Gen X v Gen Z: The Mouthpiece
The stovetop flares circular red. Ginger sits at my feet, her tail thumping against the linoleum. I stare into the pot, watching the water as tiny bubbles form and cling to the bottom.
One breaks free. Then two. Then three.
Soon, a string of them.
The surface of the water goes turbulent.
The pot starts rattling.
I glance up at Mom.
She gives me a silent nod.
Pinching the plastic strap of the mouthpiece between my thumb and forefinger, I lower it into the boiling water and count: “1001, 1002, 1003…”
At “1010,” I pull out the mouthpiece.
I hesitate for a moment, then slide it over my upper teeth. I bite down firmly, feeling the warm plastic press against my gums. It doesn’t burn like I feared. The sensation is oddly pleasant. Its edges are softened and malleable. I press my tongue against the back of my teeth, simultaneously sucking the air and water out as the pliable plastic molds itself into the imperfections of my gumline, the ridgelines of my teeth, and the valleys between them.
When the fit is right, I slip the mouthpiece out and run it under the tap. The cold water hardens the plastic into its final shape.
That was it: my first mouthpiece.
It was 1980.
I was in fourth grade.
Fast forward a few decades, and now I’m a coach. And let me tell you—one of the biggest surprises about coming back to the game after decades away? Having to remind players—over and over—to put in their mouthpieces.
Oh, the look on their Gen Z faces after reminding them for the hundredth time:
What is it with you coaches and your obsession with mouthpieces?
Let me answer that question.
Just know I’m going to preach.
Here are three reasons why all of us Gen X ballers cherish the humble mouthpiece:
1. WE WERE RAISED ON RONNIE LOTT
Back in our day (yeah, I know what I sound like), mouthpieces were simple. Clear plastic. Unassuming. Identical for every player on the field. Unlike the peacock-feathery dance of today, the mouthpiece wasn’t an accessory. We didn’t stick it out of an air hole in our helmet. Multiple mouthpieces in multiple colors didn’t dangle from our facemasks. No fangs. No designs. No flash. Just function. For us, the mouthpiece wasn’t a fashion statement. It was a tool. Utilitarian. Necessary. We wanted to hit. We were allowed to hit. And we knew we’d get hit. The mouthpiece was there to protect us. It wasn’t about standing out. It was about being ready. Between plays, it might have dangled from our facemasks as we relayed calls from the sideline to the huddle. But when it was time to line up, we slid it back in—no complaint, no hesitation, no coach barking at us to do it. That simple motion of slipping it into place meant something. It told our mind, our body, and our spirit: lock in. Even on the sidelines, most of us kept them in. We wanted coach to know we were ready. Ready to play. Ready to lay a motherf*cker out—just like forty-two, just like Ronnie Lott.
2. WE WATCHED INDIANA JONES GO BACK FOR HIS HAT
The helmet and shoulder pads. Thigh boards and knee pads. Girdle and practice pants. All of it came from the team—oversized, sweat-stained, and handed down like battle relics. Nothing was form-fitting. But the mouthpiece? That was different. It was personal in a way no other piece of equipment could be. Molded to the shape of our gums and teeth, it was our own. A quiet kind of individuality. It was always there, tethered to our facemask—within reach when we needed it. We spent time (sometimes too much time) finding the perfect bar to hang it from, looping the strap just so. When frustration hit—after a mistake or loss—it bore the brunt of our angst. We bit down on it hard, taking solace in its presence. In the searing heat of summer practices, it was a source of relief. We sucked on it, drawing out saliva when water breaks were few and far between. When nerves crept in, we chewed its corners during pre-game. It was a comforting source of certainty. It wasn’t just a mouthpiece—it was a part of us. It accompanied us through every week of the season, every bad call, every improbable victory. Half-chewed in its constancy, it was something we trusted. It was our talisman. Like Indiana Jones with his hat, it was our well-worn, battle-scarred companion. When it fell in the dirt, we picked it up, rinsed it off, and put it back in our mouths. When it hit the locker room floor, we did the same without a second thought. When it got knocked out in the middle of a play, all eleven joined the search party. No matter what—we never left it behind.
3. WE HEEDED JOHN FACENDA’S CALL OF AUTUMN
Beyond its practicality, the mouthpiece carried another valuable quality: it was affordable for almost everyone. It wasn’t a barrier to entry into this beautifully transformative game—the game that takes boys on a quest for something bigger than themselves. Not like cleats, which we also brought with us into the game. Cleats were expensive—they were passed down from year to year when they had to be. But not the mouthpiece. In between seasons, over the course of the offseason, our teeth shifted, grew, and moved. Some got chipped. Some got pulled. A new mouthpiece was needed each season. I had thirteen in all, counting pee-wee through college. Each mouthpiece became a fossilized record who I was—who we were—in that moment of becoming. A simple piece of molded plastic, marking our step across another threshold—a summons.
It was time.
Time to stand at the stove, watch the bubbles form, and count: “1001, 1002, 1003…”
Time to soften a piece of clear, unassuming plastic into the shape of who we were at that moment.
With every bursting bubble, we heard John Facenda’s voice—his dramatic, poetic narration turning football into mythology.
“The Autumn wind is a raider.”
FOOTBALL…IS…HERE!
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This post is part of my latest book project titled: “Football is _______”
Every two weeks, I’ll fill in the above blank with a word or phrase and tell a story. I’ll do that for 52 weeks and then compile the posts into a book of essays.
I’d love for you to join me on this journey and share your thoughts or stories along the way. If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it with others who might appreciate it as well.
Read previous posts in this series.
Thanks for reading! – shawn
