Every football season, there are arguments between myself and my fellow sports reporters about our style of game coverage. I stick by my way of walking the sidelines, armed with two pads, marking the yardage that is indicated right in front of me, while being on constant look out for oncoming linebackers.

The Valdosta Daily Times’ two Cs, (Christian Malone and Chris Walsh, of course) are press-box boys, sitting high and dry in air-conditioned boxes, sipping on fresh spring water and having grapes fed to them as they sit on cushioned chairs.

Well, once again, it was proved to me that being close to the action, and personalities, is the way to go.

Throughout my eight years of covering high school and college football, there are many memorable sideline moments, but a new No. 1 emerged during the Lowndes vs. Central Gwinnett game at Martin Stadium Friday night.

While I have seen many good games and bad, it’s not always the highlight-reel touchdown, or late-game field goal block that remains ingrained in my memory banks.

In no particular, order my favorites range from big hits, big plays, water-cooler baths, players enjoying the games, and other sights that may not be prevalent perched high above the stands.

My first memory from field’s edge comes from the second game I ever covered, a 2000 matchup featuring Florida’s Astronaut High School. Being relatively new to the world of high school football, I hadn’t had much time to be impressed by the young athletes putting it all on the line in front of peers, parents and fans. However, it took one punt return for a touchdown by War Eagles senior C.J. Lewis to learn that lesson.

In a flash of the eye, his speed was displayed, which is much more impressive covering yards from left to right than in inches when you put two fingers by your eyes from the press box a hundred or so feet in the air.

Standing on the sidelines of Raymond James Stadium watching South Florida play also brings back memories — one fond and one not so pleasurable.

Being a pessimistic sports fan is taught where I grew up in New York just as early as to use your hands while you speak.

So naturally any time USF kicker Santiago Gramatica lined up for a field goal, there was a cringe shooting up my spine. In one of the Bulls’ early big games, he actually made a big kick, but it wasn’t simply seeing the small-framed Hispanic split the uprights that is memorable, it was seeing his NFL-playing brothers, Martin and Bill, leap up for high fives that kept the sight in my head. It should, too, since it seemed every time Gramatica leapt for joy, he came back down with an injury.

The other memory from the Bulls’ sideline unfortunately turned into a sad one. It comes from the biggest and loudest hit I ever witnessed.

Two USF defenders descended on a would-be receiver, meeting him at the same time, issuing a smack that was heard throughout the stadium. The receiver’s helmet flew off his head like a cork under too much pressure, about 20 feet into the air. After a long pause, the unfortunate individual was taken to the hospital, where he would remain paralyzed in a coma for more than a month.

Those three go beyond being related to just statistics and standings, and that trend continued when I took on the Lowndes assignment two seasons ago.

I sharply remember the Bus’ smile and enthusiasm, pumping up his teammates and fans. I bet there’s no entertainment like that in some press box. Speaking of entertainment, I love Lowndes’ blowout wins, because that brings on a dancing 300-pounder in defensive tackle T.J. Manning. If he makes it to the NFL, stay tuned to dancing with the stars, he’ll make Mario Lopez look like he has two left feet.