On The Record with Jeffrey Reed
October 3, 2026
I Practiced Full Tackle With The CCH Crusaders Senior Boys Football Team

Photo (above): 1992 CCH Senior Boys Football squad celebrating victory. Photo by Jeffrey Reed/LondonOntarioSports.com.

Participatory journalism has always interested me – no surprise, author George Plimpton had a major influence on my career. The American writer penned accounts of his active involvement in professional sports, acting in a Western, performing a comedy act at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, and playing with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

It was his sportswriting, though, that captured my eye and influenced my career. Author of three dozen books, Plimpton penned classics including, Paper Lion (1966), his most famous book, detailing his time trying out as a backup quarterback for the Detroit Lions; and Shadow Box (1977), Plimpton’s exploration into the world of professional boxing, including sparring with Archie Moore.

In 2011, at age 49, I took a page out of Plimpton’s playbook and wrote a year-long column, Out Of My League, for Sun Media. In fact, Plimpton’s 1961-published book of the same title chronicles the author’s humorous and near-humiliating pitching against MLB All-Stars at Yankee Stadium.

So in 2011, as an aging athlete quickly approaching age 50, I fully immersed myself and fully committed to the lives of elite athletes. I practiced with the London Lightning of the professional National Basketball League of Canada; batted against Molly Yetman, one of the world’s top fastball pitchers; and played tackle football with the CCH Crusaders senior boys football squad. And I had the bruises to prove it.

These were no publicity stunts, as we’ve seen with way too many television personalities looking for attention and laughter. This was serious business, with each team and athlete treating me as if I was one of them – at least, for one game or practice.

CCH Crusaders senior boys football team head coach Paul Gleason gets Gatorade treatment in 1992. Photo: Jeffrey Reed/LondonOntarioSports.com.

Without a doubt, no London high school football program – hell, no local high school sports program, period – carries as much history, tradition and honour as the CCH Crusaders football program. Their record alone – 25-time City senior champs since 1957, and five OFSAA championships – speaks volumes about how seriously the Crusaders take their football. But at CCH, it’s not all about winning; in fact, it’s more about shaping the lives of young men.

I still remember driving onto the CCH campus in late-October 2011 and reading the sign on Dundas Street: “Crusader Football, Nurturing Character In Young Men.” Among the wording on the dressing room walls was: “Tradition, Pride, Excellence.” South Bend has Notre Dame. London has CCH high school football.

Here’s my story from November 3, 2011. For one full-tackle practice, I was a CCH Crusader. And yes, I did have the bruises to prove it. A few updates to this story: head coach Jean-Paul Circelli has been head coach of the Windsor Lancers football team since 2019. The 2011 Crusaders quarterback, Austin Geddes, went on to fill that post with the Queen’s Gaels after an all-star high school career. And 2011 lineman Dylan Shervill played defense at Carleton U. before playing on the offensive line with the Western Mustangs, before transitioning into a well-respected junior coach.

Here’s my 2011 story, chronicling my day as a CCH Crusader:

Out Of My League
November 3, 2011

Prior to October 24, I have never strapped on a football helmet. By the end of that sunny day, accented by a gorgeous palate of fall colours, I was black and blue, and wondered why I had even attempted such an adventure.

Football wasn’t my game – a wise decision on my part. I played baseball for 33 years – even pitched from the bullpen with the London Majors. I ran cross country for my high school alma mater Montcalm Cougars, played a lot of tennis and some pickup hockey. Today, I’m a part-time golf instructor and hit balls at the range until my hands bleed.

Photo: Crusaders Facebook.

Sure, my 49-year-old body is arthritis-ridden. But taping up to tackle a tough practice session with the Catholic Central High School Crusaders – the most storied high school football program in London – was a challenge that most definitely was out of my league.

In 1950, schools De La Salle, Sacred Heart and Saint Angela amalgamated to form CCH, today boasting a spirited student body of more than 1,000 teenagers. A campus sign on Dundas Street sometimes reads, “Crusader Football, Nurturing Character In Young Men.” Indeed, the senior football squad is the strongest common denominator at CCH, where the gridiron is used to shape boys into men.

Walking onto Kennedy Field, named after the legendary CCH coach, was like stepping foot on a microcosm of the great University of Notre Dame Fighting Irish football stadium. Honour and tradition make CCH football a local institution. Head coach Jean-Paul (JP) Circelli greeted me at the principal’s office, where I had to sign in for the afternoon. This was another first: me voluntarily entering the principal’s office.

After scanning my 5’8” frame from head to toe – perhaps wondering how to best keep me out of harm’s way – JP said, “Let’s get you suited up.” Circelli is a co-operative education teacher at CCH and former Crusaders football star who played for five years for the McMaster Marauders. JP’s father, Mike Circelli, also teaches at CCH, where he is a coaching legend. A member of the 1974 Vanier Cup-winning Western Mustangs, Mike is defensive line coach at both UWO and CCH.

JP led me to the equipment shed at the southwest corner of Kennedy Field. Sizing me up, JP asked, “How much do you weight? When I answered 175 pounds, he wasn’t buying it. “I’ll give you extra-large pants,” he continued, next providing me with rubber-cleated shoes, shoulder pads, and finally the dreaded helmet – three, to be exact, before he found one that properly fit my recently-shaved head.

Strapping on a football helmet, I discovered, was an adventure in itself. How was I going to participate in a full-contact practice when I felt like my head was stuck in a mason jar? I’d soon find out.

Directing me to the locker room, JP already had his game face on, a half hour before 2:30 p.m. practice. He handed me off to one of the team leaders, offensive/defensive lineman Dylan Shervill. JP told me that he had not informed the team of my visit – wonderful, I thought, as this would add to the authenticity of my story.

“Hello, Mr. Reed, welcome to CCH,” said Shervill, shaking my hand and displaying all of the professionalism which Jean-Paul instils in his student athletes. The Crusaders locker room isn’t just some smelly physical education change room. Inscribed on the wall: “Tradition, Pride, Excellence.” And, “To You From Failing Hands We Throw The Torch; Be Yours To Hold It High” – inscribed on the Montreal Canadiens’ locker room wall, and borrowed from the poem, In Flanders Fields.

Jeffrey Reed practicing with the CCH Crusaders in 2011. Photo courtesy Sun Media.

Shervill, a soft-spoken young man whose large size sees me define him as a gentle giant, puts the pads into my pants, laces them up, then retreats to his corner of the room. Quickly, the locker room began to fill – one by one, then with groups of three or four students. Some stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted a stranger – old enough to be their father – in their midst. Surprisingly, some didn’t even know I was there. In fact, not until the end of the practice, when JP let the team in applauding my visit, did some of the player acknowledge my presence. Surrounded by 50 football players and a score of coaches, this wasn’t an impossible task.

You didn’t have to tell me who the quarterback was. As soon as Austin Geddes entered the locker room, he stood in the centre, surrounded by and joking with his troops, dressing for practice – with one eye on the old guy. His expression was half amusement, half confusion. My presence had caught him by surprise, and had altered his carefully-crafted pre-practice regimen. I felt bad for him, so I walked over and introduced myself. He smiled, then offered me a weak handshake. I had surprised him, maybe more so than if he had been tackled blindside before throwing to a receiver.

It was time to take the field, and my stomach felt queasy. That morning, I sat in the dentist chair. I should have stayed there.

There’s something grand about walking onto the field of battle with 50 teammates. I had felt this only once before during my lifetime, when leaving the clubhouse at Labatt Park with my pinstriped teammates, metal cleats clattering up the ramp and onto the diamond. Mike Circelli grinned like a Cheshire cat. “You don’t have to do everything (the players) do,” he said, laughing. I shook his hand, then joined the team for stretching and a lap around the track. My cousin, Lisa Reed, was one of the best runners in CCH history before leaving London on scholarship with Louisiana State University. My father and my uncle, Ken and Bob Reed, both played sports at CCH. I was about to erase 60 years of family tradition.

Jeffrey Reed practicing with the CCH Crusaders in 2011. Photo courtesy Sun Media.

JP had given me jersey No. 75 – muddied from the Crusaders’ 9-0 win over Oakridge Oaks. I was told defensive back Gustavo Barahona had left it behind after that game. He was genuinely concerned that another “player” was wearing his jersey, and that me may not get it back. I joined Barahona and the rest of the defensive backs, including Jean-Paul’s younger cousin, Luke Circelli, during practice; JP told me I was “least likely to get hit” as a defensive back, although “there will still be some contact – it depends on how much you want to get involved.”

It didn’t take me long to “get involved.” Mike Circelli ran a drill that saw backs receive blocks from guards. Much to the surprise – and amusement – of the Crusaders, I stood in line, waiting my turn to run through the line, looking for daylight with ball in hand. That was the easy part, thanks to the block provided by my towering teammate. We switched it up. Now, I had to block a guard. I promptly pushed my already-sprained index finger (golf injury) into his shoulder pads. The pain was excruciating. Welcome to high school football.

During the entire practice, defensive back Luke Circelli took me under his wing like an injured bird. Luke didn’t patronize me; rather, he acted as if I truly was a member of the team and needed to be “coached up,” according to the coaching staff. They include defensive coordinator Mark Howard, secondary coach Drew Irvine and receiver coach Vince Zvonkin – all former gridiron stars.

Earlier, in the locker room, Luke sized me up as I strapped on my shoulder pads and pulled on my jersey. “You look like a baller!” he said, as teammates circled around the newcomer. A baller, I asked? “A footballer!” said Luke. Of course; how stupid of me.

Time for another drill with Irvine barking orders. First, I had to tackle a back before he could run on the outside of two cones separated by about 25 feet. Then, I had to replace the back and – gulp – try to avoid being tackled. I switched places with Luke while in line, drawing a “make the tackle!” from Irvine. Time to run. Success! Or so I thought, as a youngster smaller than me was left sliding on the ground as I ran past the far cone. I had run on the wrong side of the cone, drawing even more criticism from Irvine, and laughter from the players who tapped me on the shoulder pads.

Photo: Crusaders Facebook

About one hour into the two-hour practice, my neck and shoulders began to feel like I had been carrying a gorilla on my shoulders. Luke asked me for about the 10th time how I felt, and I told him about the burden on my upper torso. “After the game, your neck hurts for two days,” said Luke. It didn’t take me that long to feel the pain. I have a new-found appreciation for “ballers.”

Something interesting happened before my last drill. Watching Geddes throw to his receivers, JP lectured him in front of his teammates – including me. “Let’s make one thing clear here. I am the head coach of this football team. If you have other ideas, we can make a change at quarterback right now!” Geddes showed me something right then and there. He manned up, took his punishment and showed why he is the team leader, acting like a consummate professional for the duration of practice – and showing off that golden arm.

My last drill: protect one-third of the field near the goal line during zone coverage, as Geddes unleashed the pigskin from his canon into the waiting hands of the receivers. “Coach him up!” Zvonkin yelled to Luke. Running backwards while keeping one eye on the flying pigskin and another on the receiver was one of the toughest athletic feats I had ever attempted. Miracles do happen, though, as I tipped a Geddes’ pass out of the air. I was sure Geddes was being nice, throwing to my outstretched arms (I wrenched my back). “You almost had in interception!” yelled Luke. “He almost had an interception!” he yelled – multiple times – to anyone within earshot.

Practice ended with what Luke called “suicide” runs around the track. Shortly before, one player attempted – without success – to throw up. Another was down on one knee, ready to call it a day, but suddenly sprang to action with a “suicide” lap. Again, I ran with the team, much to their surprise. This is easy, I thought, adrenaline pumping, until I began my second lap and my bum right knee – the same knee examined recently at UWO’s Fowler Kennedy Clinic – reminded me that I was not 18 years old, but two months away from my 50th birthday.

Jeffrey Reed practicing with the CCH Crusaders in 2011. Photo courtesy Sun Media.

On one good knee – at least, better than the bum knee – in the post-practice huddle, something had occurred to me: not once did I hear any of these players – or coaches – curse. If you’ve been around sports all of your life like I have, then you know why I was surprised. JP spoke, and you could have heard a pin drop. He stressed the importance of “time management. Get your act together. Not having your homework done is not an excuse for missing football practice. These are things you need to learn in life.”

Within seconds of a final team stretch, 50 players and their coaches disappeared into a classroom to watch game film in preparation for their October 27 game versus John Paul II Jaguars (CCH won, 52-7). I sat alone in the locker room, relishing my endurance – my neck hurt like hell, but otherwise I had escaped unscathed, minus the already-compromised finger and knee. I glanced at the wall, adorned with the dates from 19 City championships from 1957 to 2010 (JP’s first year as head coach). And I thought again about the sign which read, “Crusader Football, Nurturing Character In Young Men.”

I’ll never again look at high school football the same way. These aren’t just high school students randomly filling spots on a roster, and looking for cheerleaders girlfriends as well as campus status. At CCH, football is much more than a game: it’s all about honour and tradition – and most of all, winning.

With apologies to the Catholic faith, at CCH, football is as close to religion as you can get.

Update: On November 11, 2011, the heavily-favoured Crusaders lost their TVRA Central Conference semifinal to the St. Thomas Aquinas Flames, 24-22.

Note: On The Record with Jeffrey Reed returns Saturday, October 17. Until then, enjoy our previously-published columns here at LondonOntarioSports.com.

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Award-winning writer and broadcaster Jeffrey Reed is one of Canada’s longest-running sports journalists. Since 1979, he has written and talked about local sports, while also reporting on sports for a national audience. A three-time author, Reed is a disabled athlete who beat the odds to pitch and coach with the London Majors Baseball Club, and later to work as a golf instructor and brand ambassador. He has been nominated for the London Sports Hall of Fame, where his name rightfully belongs. Reach him at jeff@londonontariosports.com.