He was 14 years old and he played inside linebacker for the Avenel Junior High School freshman football team in New Jersey.

The moment Billy Nyers strapped on his helmet, this boy of adolescent years became a man of violent intention. Before each game, he sat by himself in the locker room, calculating, motivating, visualizing what he was about to do on the field, like a gladiator preparing to enter the arena.

When Billy stepped across the yard lines, his body kicked into an adrenaline rush, a feeling he had never felt before and one he wanted to have again.

When I coached him, he could dominate a game. He drove himself across the line of scrimmage into the face of his opponent with the force of a Mack truck. There was no second gear for the gladiator of the grid iron. With every tackle, number 60 in blue and gold showed his teammates that you win by annihilating and terminating the opponent. Get out the body bags. Nyers is coming to play some football!

Then something happened that changed everything. Billy blew out his knee while running down the field on a kickoff. To say he was devastated fell far short of how he really felt. He wanted to go to his own funeral and nobody else was invited.

I volunteered to tutor him while he recovered at home from knee surgery. Since we had clicked immediately as coach and player, we bonded as teacher and student. With every visit, the academic lessons were masked by the one subject we never talked about. We both knew his football career was in serious jeopardy.

The next fall, Billy entered Woodbridge High School and tried to play again, but his knee told him not on my leg you won’t. He was left without the game he loved and with one torturing thought, “What do I do now? He made a silent promise to himself. Get back to the game after high school. Feel that rush again. Billy traded his helmet and shoulder pads for a whistle and a clipboard.

From the blue-collar streets of Port Reading, Coach Nyers brought the intensity of the gladiator to the football field. From day one his players learned he would demand from them their attention to every detail that would make them winners.

He stormed into a rage whenever a player failed to execute. During a scrimmage at practice, his tight end got pushed back by the defensive end. Coach Nyers, dressed in his T-shirt and shorts, got down in a three-point stance against the defender who was equipped with helmet and full football gear. At full speed, Billy fired off his stance and threw a forearm under the defensive end’s chin and drove him 5 yards up the field. His players got the message. Go 100 percent or go home.

He still makes no excuses for the unfiltered words that spew from his mouth or his hotheaded temper that has raised his fists at times. If you cross him, be ready for the fight. Even if you have an army behind you, he’ll battle you, and win or lose, there’s a legitimate cause for every altercation he’s ever been in.

From this school to that school, Billy built an impressive coaching resume. He excelled with the X’s and O’s of the game. He was football’s version of Field Gen. Patton planning his attack on the enemy.

As the head coach in Plainfield, he was the only white face in front of an all-Black team. Players who challenged his discipline rules discovered there were unyielding consequences. Billy suspended star players from big games and one in particular was a great athlete who Billy said was headed either for a D1 football scholarship or a life of crime. The kid’s father told Billy how grateful he was for enforcing the discipline his son needed.

Despite Billy’s efforts, the kid got involved in a gang war and was shot and killed. At the emotional funeral, his tearful father thanked a tearful Coach Nyers again for trying to help his son.

Billy’s coaching career led him from five high schools and one college back to his alma mater, Woodbridge High where his Barons won a state championship in 1997.

Outside the lines, Billy battles the breakdown of his body every day. Kidney cancer, spinal deterioration and stomach issues have sent him to hospitals for nine surgeries. He had complete shoulder replacement. He takes medication to stop the swelling in his arm and leg from water retention and he sees a cardiologist for his heart that is under attack from every inch of the rest of his body. Once more, he has had to leave the game he loved behind.

He lives each day as if it’s a two-minute warning in the game of his life. He stays loyal to his family and his friends are forever.

He knows he must take the time to take care of himself, but his gas tank, once full of patience while he waits for the day when he can return to the sidelines, is running close to empty.

Someone once told me you have to have a passion in life in order to have a life.

Billy understands these words, and so do his former players who love him like a father.

He longs for the Friday night lights.

He wants to feel that rush again.

Rich Strack can be reached at katehep11@gmail.com.