The Football Odyssey

By James Francis McGee

First edition 2002

This book is dedicated to my beautiful and supportive wife Kristina, my great friend Michael Brannan, and to my uncle, Joe Cancilla.

Also, to four great men that have left us: Coach Greg Fox, Coach Jim Lemoine, Coach Ron Johnson, and Danny Laing.

Table of Contents

1 Street Ball

2 Changes

3 Rookie Year

4 Hornet Pride

5 1979

6 Payoff

7 Senior Year

8 Preseason

9 League Play

10 A Challenge

11 Game Day

12 Upset in the Making

13 Teammates

14 Victory

15 A New Season

16 Varsity Blues

17 Hope

18 The Mudbowl

19 A Big Friend

20 Reflections

21 Hornet Hoop

22 Moving On

23 Crossroads

24 A New Era

25 The Last Hurrah

26 College Daze

27 Cougar Country

28 The Turkey Bowl

29 Fourth Quarter

1 STREET BALL

Pearl Street was your typical middle-class suburban street. Straight, flat, a bit worn, and lined with small trees and plenty of cars and trucks. To the adults the asphalt served as a medium for travel but for us kids it was our football field. No one really had a big enough frontyard to play ball on. The lawn at our house was small. My dad didn’t really appreciate six or seven kids pretending to be the Raiders wrestling around on it, so we played on the street. My earliest recollection of organized football is from 1971. I was seven and the youngest player on the “field”. (Good thing my mother never saw me out there). Most of the boys in my neighborhood would play. Most of them were also Oakland Raider fans, primarily since the Silver and Black’s home field was about 7 minutes away. Our neighborhood always had plenty of boys for some reason. I

6 can only remember two girls ever living there, Jane and Barbara-Ann. Neither was a tomboy, so it was just we boys playing the games. In those early games I never got the ball, of course. I did a lot of running around and falling and scraping my knees. As the months and years passed I improved my ability somewhat, but I was always one of the slowest players on the street. The one thing that I could do well from an early age was throw the ball. By the time I was eleven I had the best arm on the block. This was probably due in large part to my favorite hobby: throwing rocks. It was always my job to kickoff and punt, long throws that sometimes landed on the asphalt. There was a problem that we had on Pearl Street. Cars and trucks were always in the way. Hit one with a pass. Bounce one with a kickoff. Run into one on a pattern. They were only good for markers to show where the end zones were. For some strange reason, the owners of some of those vehicles didn’t appear to be football fans. In fact they seemed to hate it! This didn’t make much sense to me or my

7 counterparts. I mean really, how much could a small rubber football hurt a big metal car? Mr. Gordon disagreed with us and of course his Ford pickup was the north end zone marker. He yelled at us countless times. He threatened us with lawsuits. He told us he was going to take away our father’s retirement. He never did, but he did take away our football on a few occasions. Good thing someone always had another one lying around somewhere. By 1976, the games in the street were fewer and far between. My older friends in the neighborhood had moved on to bigger and better things like high school, girlfriends, cars, rock concerts, etc. I was playing basketball at my school, St. Philip Neri, but we didn’t have a football team. I had heard of something called “Pop Warner”, a youth football program in town, but I had no close friends that were players so I didn’t know much about it. When I turned thirteen I noticed something very strange about our street: it had shrunk! Either that or the cars and trucks were wider. The little kids in the neighborhood didn’t seem

8 to notice. I still played on occasion and was permanent quarterback once in a while. Permanent QB! Whoever thought of that was a genius! You could just stand back and throw passes all game long. The only real problem was if the count for rushing was less than 5 alligators. I loved it since I had a good arm, and I wasn’t very quick. Confirmation and graduation in 1978 pretty much ended the era of street ball for me. I was looking ahead to high school football and the great unknown.

9 2 CHANGES

The seventies were begrudgingly coming to a close, a crazy time and place, even for a kid. In the past four years the president had quit, America had lost a war, and Elvis had died. But I had a dream and the dream was football. In June I graduated from St. Philip, surviving eight years of Catholic school. I had learned a lot and gained some much-needed discipline. I toughened up a lot since we always played on the blacktop. (We had no grass at St. Philip.) High school was just around the corner. My two best friends at the time were Jo-Jo Perri and Danny Laing. A problem arose that summer when Danny was looking to attend Bishop O’Dowd High School in Oakland. Jo-Jo was following his two older brothers to Alameda High School. To complicate matters, Dave Rose, my wonderful foster father, was an O’Dowd alum. He convinced me to at least take the entrance exam for BOD.

10 I didn’t think I would pass the test. I never thought I was all that smart in school, especially in 1978 when sports and girls were on my mind 99% of the time. I took the arduous exam and surprisingly passed. More surprisingly, Danny did not. He was set to go to AHS. Since that was the case, I was going to go there too. (Friends are so influential when you’re a teen). Another option at the time had been St. Mary’s High in Berkeley, where my father had gone back in the 1940’s, but it was too far. My dad had played basketball and baseball at St. Mary’s before transferring to Oakland Tech. My grandfather wouldn’t let him go out for football since he was 6’ 3” tall and very thin. (One of his Tech classmates was Clint Eastwood). Kevin, my older brother, attended St. Joseph-Notre Dame High School in Alameda. That surely wasn’t an option…they didn’t have football! (Sports is very important in a young man’s life). Danny and I began lifting weights at his house. We thought we were tough bench pressing ninety pounds. Jo-Jo and I shortly

11 thereafter signed up at Johnny’s Gym, an old gym in Alameda that had four walls, weights, men, and sweat. Jo-Jo’s brother worked out there and we were ready to lift our way into manhood. Danny lived in an upper-middle class neighborhood in Alameda. His home was gigantic compared to mine. It was on a court and had a lagoon behind the backyard. I learned a lot from Danny and miss him to this day. (He tragically passed away in 1995). He was a great motivator. He got my courage up for my first kiss at the Alameda Theatre when I was thirteen. The most important lesson he taught me was that material things didn’t matter. He had so much, at least I thought he did, and yet he didn’t seem any happier than I was at the time. It was late June of 1978 and Jo-Jo and I were working out a lot. Danny didn’t sign up at Johnny’s. I’m not sure why, but I do remember that it was tough to juggle both friendships. Jo- Jo and Danny had more or less gone their separate ways since eighth grade graduation. I ended up hanging around with Jo-Jo most of the time.

12 Sometime early in July the Alameda Times Star advertised signups for Alameda High School frosh football. We were to meet at Thompson Field, the home field for the Hornets of Alameda High. My “football odyssey” was about to begin…

13 3 ROOKIE YEAR

It was a hot July afternoon at Thompson Field. The heat radiated off the shiny aluminum bleachers. About thirty of us sat and waited. I looked around and only a few faces looked familiar: Jo-Jo, Danny, and Mike Reno, a Lincoln Middle School grad that I had met a few months prior. The coaches finally showed up. The head coach, Coach Mike, was a solid looking man with red hair and a well-trimmed beard. His two assistants were African-American gentlemen probably in their mid-twenties. They were all Navy men, whom had served in Vietnam. Coach Mike barked out sentence after sentence and began to fire us up about the upcoming season. After his long tirade, we all signed up and looked forward to practice starting in late August. During the next few weeks I lifted and ran and lifted and ran. In between, I ate everything in sight. I over did it with the weights at

14 Johnny’s and strained my lower back. I was 145 pounds and trying to be 180 overnight. (Now I’m 195 trying to be 185 over the summer)! Of course, I didn’t slow down my workouts and my back got progressively worse. I finally got it checked out by Dr. Paul Cronenwett, one of the finest men I have ever known. He advised me to go easy. I didn’t. Equipment day finally came after a week or so of running sprints and lifting weights. We lined up to get our gear downstairs at Alameda High in the old building near the dilapidated ROTC rifle range. The smell of dingy 1960’s and 1970’s football pads permeated the air. Equipment checkout took forever, about four hours in line. I finally got my gear and my first football jersey, number 31. The jersey was an old gold varsity jersey with black numbers and black stripes on the tattered sleeves. We were fortunate to get these “quality” jerseys, since varsity Coach Greg Fox had purchased brand new unis for the varsity and JV’s.

In the fall of ’78 the AHS frosh football team was to practice at the Rittler Park field, just behind Will C. Wood Middle School. There was not enough room at Thompson Field for us. The varsity and junior varsity owned that real estate. My after school routine went like this: sixth period World History with Mr. Apel let out at, I walked home, put on most of my gear, I walked to the bus stop, I waited for the bus, I took the bus to Rittler, and I got to the practice field just as practice was starting at 4:00 p.m. We practiced for about two and a half hours each day. It seemed like we practiced forever before we had our first scrimmage. Our team had an interesting cast of characters. We had quite a few players with Pop Warner experience. A small group of rookies, me included, didn’t know the difference between a “cornerback” and a “quarterback”. We also had some sophomore returners that didn’t make the talented A.H.S. JV squad. John Randolph was one of our QB’s. He was a fine athlete who could throw the ball sixty

16 yards. Jo-Jo Perri was also a quarterback. Steve Landreth, a sophomore QB, was a tall gridder who could throw the ball through a brick wall, but had little touch. Eddie Galvan was a speedy runningback. Mike Kelly was a skinny wide receiver. Dan Stookie and Danny Laing were offensive tackles. Pete Exner was a sophomore slotback and looked about nineteen years old. I was trying out for slotback and free safety. Not much had changed for me in the speed department since the Pearl Street days. My sore back slowed me even more. The back got worse, and I finally had to take a few days off. My DB coach, Coach Leo, wasn’t too happy with me watching instead of hitting. “You need to tough it out!” he said over and over. Within a few days I was back in the frosh fray. By the first game I was fourth on the slotback depth chart and fourth on the free safety list. I didn’t play at all and we lost badly. Losing AND not playing is very difficult to deal with. We ended up losing our first three games, and I didn’t see any action. I was pretty

17 discouraged, but I wanted to prove myself so I worked even harder. In week four we came away with our only “win” of the season when Alhambra High School’s team bus conked out and we got a cheap forfeit win. I didn’t play again but no one did so I felt like part of the team for once. The fifth game of ‘78 was another Hornet loss. Our sixth game was against Piedmont High School at Highlander Field. This was a big game for me. After lifting weights, running, hurting my back, and being yelled at, I finally got to play! We were behind by twenty points midway through the third quarter when Coach Leo yelled, “McGee!” I ran over to him and was quickly sent into the game to play some free safety. The ball was snapped and I saw a handoff. I ran up, and a second later the whistle blew. Coach Leo immediately pulled me out. “You don’t come up! Stay back deep!” he barked. That was it. One play and out. We lost again, but I had gotten in on one play. A play

18 that I haven’t forgotten after twenty-three years and probably never will. We ended up losing our final game of the year to our crosstown rival, the Encinal High Jets. The frosh season was over. No wins, but my teammates and I had garnered some important experience. The losing hurt, but it made some of us hungry to work hard in the off season and to do better next year.

19 4 HORNET PRIDE

The two other Hornet football teams fared much better than us in 1978. The Alameda High junior varsity squad finished undefeated. This marked the first of three consecutive undefeated Hornet JV teams. Coach Fox’s varsity team posted a stellar 11-0-1 record and won the North Coast Section championship. The only blemish, a 6-6 non-league tie at Napa High was a bit suspect. Mysteriously, the sprinklers sprayed for eight hours straight before game time. Star RB Mike Floyd was slowed down in the Wine Country quagmire. It was great going to see the varsity play that year. I was a bright-eyed freshman and I immediately learned what “Hornet Pride” was all about. Each home game was an event. Hundreds of fans packed the Thompson Field bleachers. The gold and white clad cheerleaders yelled and screamed in the cool autumn air. Fans sang the Alameda High fight song after each TD was scored. We all stood for each

20 kickoff and cheered on the mighty Hornets during each play. It was a surreal time and a great feeling. I looked on in awe. What a great team! Coach Fox led an amazing squad to victory week in and week out. At QB was Ricky Hernandez, an outstanding athlete who could run or throw. Mike Floyd, the tailback, was an amazing talent. He was very fast, very tough, and had super moves. Wearing number 28, Mike was greatly composed and focused on the field. A great leader by example, he was respected by teammates and fans alike. At FB was Mark Horton, a redheaded battering ram that bowled over defenders. Paul Knott, a 6’ 4” wide receiver, dazzled defenseless DB’s throughout the season. The line was anchored by big Mark Perri, Jo-Jo’s older brother, an outstanding tackle that ran a 4.9 forty. David Carr and Toren Lagorio were guards. Solid Kevin Werk was the center. Mark Pharr was as tough as nails at free safety. Jerry Ogden, grandson of Pacific Coast League catching great Billy Raimondi, was a fine CB. Speedy Jerry Nildhamrong was

21 another DB. Bryan Calestini was a tenacious linebacker. John Salinas, number 66, was a solid defensive end. Lagorio, also a valuable inside backer, had transferred from rival Encinal High. That didn’t help the bad blood between the teams any. The varsity team of 1978 was the best Alameda High football team since the sixties. (From 1965 to 1968 the Hornets had won 36 straight games. That was a state record for many years). With a rare combination of power and speed, the gold and black gridders blew out most opponents, often scoring 40 points or more. Coach Fox’s team was 8-0-1 going into the final regular season game at Encinal’s Stargell Field. The Jets came out all fired up and jumped out to an early 10-0 lead. Alameda stormed back and scored 39 unanswered points to clinch the victory and the Alameda County Athletic League championship. Next up for the mighty Hornets was tough Marina High School of San Leandro in the North Coast Section 2-A playoffs. The game was an epic battle. Marina held a 20-15 lead

22 with under a minute to play. Mike Floyd, East Bay Player of the Year, broke free on a long TD run with just seconds remaining lifting Alameda to an exciting 21-20 playoff victory. The Hornets were on their way to the section finals. Their opponent would be the undefeated and top ranked Chieftans of Salesian High School. Despite Alameda’s record, Salesian was favored to win by ten points. It would be another fabulous contest in the “Year of the Fox”. Early in the game, things were tight for the gold and black faithful. Alameda only led 7-0 when Salesian scored late in the first quarter. The Hornets needed a spark, and a spark they would get – make that a lightning rod! Salesian kicked off after tying the game, and the ball found its way into Brian Calestini’s hands. He exploded up the field and wouldn’t be denied, rambling 80 yards for a touchdown. With Calestini’s spark the Hornets rolled all over the favored Chieftans. Final score: Alameda 46, Salesian 10. Alameda was the NCS 2-A champion, and a dream season had come to a mythical finale.

23 Coach Greg Fox was named Coach of the Year by the Oakland Tribune. He was a good motivator who let players be themselves as long as they worked hard. (Mr. Fox just passed away in the last year. We will miss him.) Our frosh team had had a dismal season in ‘78, but the leadership of that varsity championship team would lift our spirits to aim for future victories.

24 5 1979

My pass spiraled for a good 35 yards, and at the last instant speedy little Adrian Veenbaas jumped up and snatched it out of the cool and bright spring air. At that moment, I made my decision to remain at the QB position during spring football at Thompson Field. I went on to play soph-frosh football in the fall of 1979. Our head coach was Art Thoms, the former Oakland Raider defensive tackle. Art was just a few years out of pro football and the Super Bowl. He had gotten into the NFL fastlane, but was now a Born Again Christian. This was to be his first year coaching. He was a great guy, a great role model. I lasted about two weeks at QB. We were going to hand off a lot and run some option. My sixty-yard passes and 5.5 speed didn’t seem to figure into the mix. I decided to switch to tight end. That way I could play defense as well. (Alameda quarterbacks rarely played defense). During my freshman year I had played free

25 safety. This year would be different. I changed to defensive end. My defensive coach was John Salinas, a nice guy and a good coach. John was starting his coaching career after being a part of the Hornet championship team. He coached me well and in our first game against DeAnza High of Richmond I had a sack early in the game. What a great feeling! It was a typical frosh game, sloppy and intense. We came away with a close 12-7 victory. Week 2 sent us to Riordan High School in San Francisco. We battled on a soggy field for four quarters, and the game looked to end in a tie at 0-0. Mike Robertson, our starting QB, got hurt and the backup, diminutive Randy Rassmussen, was being chased around the field all afternoon. I was wide open all game long going across the middle, but Randy couldn’t see over the line. He scrambled for his life and heaved long passes to the talented Kevin Rivera, our wide receiver that was double covered. With time running out, Adrian Veenbaas, our awesome tailback and kicker, booted a game

26 winning 25-yard field goal off of Riordan’s mud. A few weeks later we played at Berkeley High School. AHS and BHS had had a magnificent rivalry at the varsity level since the forties. The Yellowjackets had a solid team with a lot of speed. Their quarterback was small and very quick. We took an early 7-6 lead and then held on for dear life as their speedy QB scrambled like Elway to the right and to the left. Luckily for us, his arm wasn’t too strong. By halftime I had one sack and was exhausted. The second half was a defensive free for all as Berkeley passed like crazy. I had four, second half sacks. Coach Thoms was going crazy! Sack number six slipped out of my grasp on the last play of the game, as the ‘Jacket QB stumbled and threw an errant pass. The year that started out so well (we went 4- 1) ended harshly with a tough 25-12 loss to Piedmont High and a 13-0 fall at the hands of the crosstown Jets of Encinal. To make the Jet loss even more painful, I sat out with the worst case of the flu I’ve ever had. Steve Yamasaki,

27 our offensive coordinator, had put in a TE reverse for me that week. (Coach Yamo was, and continues to be, everyone’s favorite coach). The Jet game was ugly. We didn’t score and their offense didn’t either, but their defense had two, second half touchdowns. A huge Samoan kid returned a fumble for a quick TD and then he intercepted a short pass and rambled forty yards to score again minutes later. With a thud, 1979 was over for the Alameda High frosh football team.

28 6 PAYOFF

The 1979 Hornets seemed to rest on their laurels or tried to. They probably didn’t work as hard and had less talent than the mighty ’78 crew. RB Tommy Leong was the lone brightspot, rushing for close to 1,000 yards. (Tommy’s cousin was Robby Kahuanui, a Hornet football legend from the mid-seventies). A long losing season finally ended with a hard to swallow loss to the Jets. Alameda was leading the game 7-6 going into the fourth quarter. The upset over favored Encinal was looking good. A moment later, all- league LB John Levingston picked off a wobbly option pitch and sprinted fifty yards for the go ahead score. Final: Jets 13, Hornets 7. The Hornet coaching staff wanted to make sure the 1980 team did not go by the proverbial wayside. The tone was set in spring football, 1980. We worked VERY hard. I had a dream of making the jump from soph-frosh football to varsity, an unheard of

29 transition in the Alameda program. There was one small problem: 25 seniors. That meant most of the junior class was relegated to the JV roster. My best friend at the time was Mike Brannan. Mike was as solid as a rock. He was a fabulous water skier and was one of the nicest guys I’ve ever known. We ran a lot together and pumped tons of weights at The Iron Island, the new name for Johnny’s Gym. Mike looked to start at guard and outside linebacker, and I hoped to start at slotback and DE. When we got our jerseys, Mike sported 67 and I donned 43. Jim Lemoine was a new coach for us that year. He was a former Raider and Houston Oiler guard. A great guy that loved football, but loved working with kids even more. I can still hear him barking at us as we hit and drove the one-man blocking sled. Doubles began in late August. Doubles is short for “double-sessions”, a diabolical routine of anguish that football players survive each August. Two-a-days, as they are sometimes called, consist of two tough football practices in one day.

30 On the fourth day of doubles, we were practicing the JV punt team. I was the right end, and I kept jumping offsides, anxious to bury the returner. Coach Dan Reynolds, one of the best linebackers in East Bay high school history, got so teed-off at me he yelled, “Start running!” I took off and started running around the field. I ran hard, waiting for Coach Reynolds to shout, “That’s enough!” He never said anything, so I kept running. After 22 or 23 laps, practice was coming to an end. Another coach finally yelled, “What the heck are you doing?” “Coach never told me to stop!” I shot back. (Nothing like good discipline.) Our opening scrimmage was at Berkeley High on a hot and humid August morning. I had been switched back to TE from slotback the week before. I was fired up and ready to go. Late in the scrimmage I released on a backside post. QB Jo-Jo Perri hit me in stride and I lumbered down to the ten-yard line. Two Yellowjackets smashed me from behind and I clutched the ball hard as I went facemask first into the autumn turf.

31 That 1980 season was a lot of fun. We pounded Piedmont High on their ugly field of sand. Pacific High of San Leandro felt our wrath 42-6. The Falcons of Harry Ells in Richmond were beaten soundly 22-0 as the BART trains whizzed by on the elevated tracks near their west end zone. In San Ramon our powerful FB Ricky Young, a Greco-Roman national champion wrestler at age fifteen, broke free for three second half TD’s to defeat the California High Grizzlies. After seven games we were a perfect 7-0, with four shutouts. We had outscored our opponents 147 to 20. (One of the best things about our winning run was that my uncle, Joe Cancilla, came to see most of our games). We had one game left…a game against the hated Jets of Encinal for the A.C.A.L. junior varsity championship! The last game of the year was somewhat overshadowed by the Hornet varsity. They were riding high on a 9-0 season. While we were playing for the JV title, Coach Fox’s gridders were challenging the blue and white varsity Jets for an NCS playoff berth.

32 We had home field advantage on that cool November afternoon. Early in the first quarter, we took a quick 6-0 lead by way of Eddie Galvan’s 62-yard TD jaunt. I blocked an outside linebacker as Eddie sprinted to the outside and then I got upfield to shield a DB. For once in my life I felt fast as I followed our tailback into the end zone. Eugene Corpuz returned a punt 80 yards for a touchdown and our Hornet “Swarm” defense buried the Jets to secure a 14-0 shutout victory. The championship was ours! All the running and lifting and blocking and tackling and sprinting had paid off. The varsity game was going to be a classic. After dominating opponents for nine weeks, the two best teams in the area were finally facing off. Starring for Encinal was RB Junior Tautaulatasi. He had amassed over 1,000 yards rushing (and later played in the NFL for the Eagles). QB Marvin White was short, quick and had a rifle arm. FS Michael Lee and OLB John Levingston, two All-Northern California players, led the Jet defense.

33 Alameda was led by QB Mark Moser. Moser, a tall, rail thin blonde teenager, had a low-key approach and a tough spirit. RB Bobby Arnold came out of nowhere to rush for over 1,200 yards. Continuing the family legacy, tough Randy Perri anchored the defensive line. JV player Ricky Young had been brought up to team with hard-hitting Danny Esparza in the middle of the defense. Stargell Field was filled to capacity with standing room only on that bright November afternoon. All-American LB Jack Del Rio of Hayward High looked on with intensity, scouting for the upcoming playoffs. (Del Rio went on to play many years in the NFL, and is currently coaching at that level). The pattern of “3 and out” went on and on during the high school struggle for supremacy. The game was full of loud hits and crunching tackles. Late in the second half QB Marvin White ran left, then right, then left, and then right again. His scrambled for an eternity. Finally, White lofted a pass to the deep middle. TE John Levingston, who had worked his way open, hauled in the long bomb to score a TD. The

34 home field crowd went crazy! The PAT was blocked by the sturdy Ricky Young and the score stood at 6-0 Jets. Alameda battled valiantly for the remainder of the game. Bobby Arnold was hammered constantly by the Encinal defense, trying to find some running room off tackle. Late in the fourth quarter FB Danny Esparza shot up the middle on a few dive plays for decent yardage, but it was too late. The clock showed all zeros and Coach Pete Noble’s Jets had survived the brawl 6-0. The season was over for the Hornets at 9-1, despite garnering a co-championship. Encinal earned the only playoff berth the A.C.A.L. was entitled to. (The Jets ended up going all the way, winning the North Coast Section 2-A championship on the Oakland Coliseum turf. They pounded St. Patrick’s of Vallejo in the title game. St. Pat RB Patrick Terrell, a state leader in rushing during the season, was held to just 13 yards by Noble’s defense). It was a disappointing end to a great year for the Hornet varsity. To make things worse, the team graduated 25 seniors. School spirit was down. Most people didn’t think 1981 would

35 bring many victories or excitement. Only time would tell….

36 7 SENIOR YEAR

Spring football finally arrived in May of ’81, and I was surely ready. I’d spent countless hours lifting weights at the Iron Island Gym and had run countless miles on the South Shore beach in preparation for the upcoming season. I had come a long way in my football career. It had been quite an odyssey: street football in the old neighborhood. whiffle football on the hard St. Philip Neri blacktop, five touchdowns at the 8th grade altar boy picnic (against suspect opposition), getting in on only one play during a horrible 0-7 season during my frosh year, having Art Thoms for a head coach my sophomore year and getting eleven sacks in six games, and starting TE and some games at DE on our undefeated JV championship team. Hard work was paying off little by little. I worked out more than ever in 1981: weight training six days a week for two hours each day, running five miles every day, running bleachers and sprints three days a week, jumping

37 rope four days a week, and doing 100 sit-ups and 120 pushups each night. I had a vision quest, a dream. I wanted to start on varsity both ways, earn all-league honors, and help our team win the NCS championship. Lofty goals, but ones that I believed were attainable. When spring football began, it almost seemed like Coach Fox hadn’t gotten over the 6- 0 loss to Encinal from the previous year. He gradually got fired up and got us going and looking ahead. We worked hard and the two weeks of spring ball flew by. During the summer we had passing league games at Laney and Chabot colleges. They were good workouts for us. QB Dave Faria, an old kindergarten classmate of mine, looked really good. WR Adrian Veenbaas was faster than ever, and returning varsity slotback Mike Kelly was slashing about the field. (One of our coaches that summer was Kevin Hennessee, the current AHS head coach). Passing league was great. We played MacClymonds High at Laney and Castro Valley High at Chabot to name a few.

38 Double sessions were slated to begin in late August. I learned an important lesson in the middle of the month. As the saying goes, “The best laid plans of mice and men”…. I was seventeen and in the best shape of my life, finally hitting the 155 pound mark after eating and lifting for months. I was all set to go. Then one day I found out that I needed to get my wisdom teeth pulled…all four of them…three days before doubles were to begin! I had the teeth pulled, and I was zonked. I felt like a zombie that hadn’t slept in ten years. Doubles started and for the first three days, I felt like I hadn’t trained at all. Little by little I bounced back and felt as normal as a guy can feel during the dreaded double days. Practices were tough. The coaches worked us very hard. The mornings were foggy and cold with wet grass. The afternoons were hot and long. To cap it all off, when it got really hot you could smell the paint being used at the nearby car painting warehouse. By the end of each hot afternoon, you could almost taste the color of the day.

39 Finally it was over, two long hot weeks. By then we were looking pretty good and Coach Fox seemed fairly happy. Jo-Jo Perri was battling Dave Faria for the QB job. Eddie Galvan was the starting RB. Ricky Young was the FB. I was fighting Mike Kelly for the starting SB position. Mike Robertson, the old frosh quarterback, was looking to start at TE with Bert Barber, another kindergarten pal from 1969, as the backup. Danny Laing was a starting OT. Mike Brannan was a starting guard and outside linebacker. Our first competition was an intra-squad scrimmage, gold versus white. I had a very good day, catching five passes and scoring two touchdowns. My hard work had paid off again! I felt happier than I had ever been in my life. It was great finally playing on the varsity team and making some plays. I had a chance to be a starter and realize one of my dreams. The following Monday we had a team meeting. Coach Fox seemed to be in a good mood. He started out by saying, “It looks like we finally found someone that can catch the

40 ball”, as he looked in my direction. The best of times and the…. An hour later I was running routes in practice. Don Murray, our receivers coach, threw the ball to me, and I dove to my right to make a low catch. I landed hard on my elbow and immediately felt serious pain in my right shoulder. I got up and ran to the back of the receiver line, knowing right away that something wasn’t right. My shoulder was killing me, and I couldn’t raise my arm at all. The dreaded visit to the doctor later that day brought bad news: separated shoulder…out three to five weeks. I was devastated! I started wearing a sling, and kept running at practice. My new goal was to get back by league play in less than three weeks.

41 8 PRESEASON

Our first game was against St. Mary’s High, my father’s old school, at the College of Alameda field. It was a Saturday game scheduled for 1:30 p.m. I was really down. Not only was I out of action, but I wouldn’t be able to play against Willie Brown, Jr., son of the Raider Hall of Famer. (Ironically, he didn’t play either because of injury). The Hornets battled against the fast Panther team for four quarters. The score was 0-0 with less than two minutes to play. With time running out, St. Mary’s broke through, scoring on a short run. The PAT was no good. Time ran out and AHS had lost a tough one, 6-0. Week 2 pitted us against a solid James Logan High squad at Thompson Field. In 1980, we had beaten Logan in a great game. We had led them 7-0 with seconds remaining. As the clock ran out, Logan scored a TD to cut the lead to 7-6. They played for the tie, and we blocked the extra point. Penalty. Offsides Hornets.

42 They tried the PAT kick one more time…and we blocked it again! Game over. Hornets 7, Colts 6. In 1981, Logan got us back, beating us in a tough 12-7 affair. We were now 0-2, and there were grumblings at AHS about the football team being pretty bad. Week 3 sent us on the road again, this time out to California High in San Ramon. They boasted over forty players. We had barely twenty-five. They had brand new all black uniforms with shiny helmets. As JV’s in 1980 we had beaten the Grizzles 35-7. They hadn’t improved much in a year, and we won 34-0 as I led cheers on the sideline in my sling. We had earned our first win of the year. That’s the good news. The bad news was one of our starting tackles, Danny Laing, had injured his knee early in the second quarter. (He ended up being lost for the season). Danny was a tough competitor and it was a big loss for our team. We were 1-2, with a new found hope. I was finally released to play by the orthopedic surgeon, albeit reluctantly. It was time for

43 league play, the games that really counted, and the Alameda High Hornets were ready.

44 9 LEAGUE PLAY

Our first league opponents were the Pirates of San Leandro High. They were led by twin brothers Kevin and Mike Sullivan. Wideout Mark Bellini was another standout player. Things went bad early. Eddie Galvan, our outstanding RB, injured his knee on our first offensive series of the game. He was hit near the left sideline and writhed around in severe pain. He would be lost for the year. We battled against the odds and held a slim 10-7 lead on the thick Thompson Field turf late in the fourth quarter. On a third and long play, our linebackers blitzed and QB Kevin Sullivan dumped off a middle screen pass to speedy Mark Bellini. He made one move and was gone on a thirty-eight yard touchdown run. The point after was good and we trailed 13-10. I finally got my first varsity playing time on the last series of the day, but we ended up losing a close game to the red, white, and blue Pirates

45 that Friday evening. Our record was 1-3, 0-1 in league play, with an uphill battle in front of us.

46 10 A CHALLENGE

Things looked bad. Our second league game of the season was against highly favored Piedmont High School. The Highlanders were ranked fourth in the East Bay at the time. We had lost two starters for the season, and we had to play on the road. Our fans didn’t have much faith in us. Piedmont was undefeated, led by three-year varsity QB Sandy Schwab (son of Charles Schwab). The Highlander QB was a fine athlete, having won the A.C.A.L. 330 hurdles the past spring. Schwab was a Division I prospect who had already thrown for 1,000 yards and 10 touchdowns on the year. (He would later play at Northwestern University, breaking the NCAA record for passing attempts). The talk on the street was Piedmont 50, Alameda 0. We were focused despite the local gossip. Our team practiced hard all week, and Coach Fox had us as ready as we could be.

47 11 GAME DAY

I walked out of the locker room at Thompson, carrying my helmet and shoulder pads. The bus would be leaving in about ten minutes. The sun was setting just west of the field. It was a surreal feeling as I walked the 120 yards to the far goal post. I sat down and visualized sacking Schwab. I had dreamed of this since my sophomore year, when I had first heard about the Piedmont phenom. It was my vision quest to sack him and help our team win the game. It was time to go. The strong diesel fumes from our team bus filled the air as I got up and headed back down the field.

48 12 UPSET IN THE MAKING

The game started poorly for us. Schwab completed two passes and then on the next play he ran past me for a quick ten yard gain. “Keep your containment!” yelled defensive end coach Mark Dorfman from the sideline. Moments later, Schwab fired a short touchdown pass, and their kicker was good on the PAT to give Piedmont a 7-0 lead. We regrouped and settled down, keeping our opponent in check the rest of the way to end the first quarter down just 7-0. The Highlander fans were awfully quiet all of a sudden, on this, their homecoming night. In the second quarter, with a renewed confidence, we steadily moved the ball down the field. RB Mike Kelly fought like a madman for every inch he could, and we got inside the Piedmont five-yard line. One play later we were on their three. A dive play was called by Coach Fox. I was the slotback on the right side. My responsibility

49 was to block their all-league, 225 pound, middle linebacker Eric Vulgaress. The ball was snapped, and I got off quickly. I made contact with the big LB and stuck my gold facemask into his purple chest. I drove my feet and a moment later I heard the whistle blow. Touchdown! Kelly had scored. Reliable kicker Mike Reno hit the extra point to tie the game at 7-7. Halftime finally arrived. I was dead tired, having played the entire first half on gallons of adrenaline. It was my very first game as a varsity starter, achieving the biggest goal in my life so far. I was living a dream as we were in the thick of it against the top rated team in our league. We ran up the steep concrete ramp to the visitor’s locker room yelling and chanting,“Hornets” all the way. We were covered with sweat, sand, and dirt on that warm September night. We were kings in our world, higher than any drug could get a person. The underdogs from Alameda were trading punches with one of the best teams in the area and still standing.

50 The locker room was crazy. The coaches seemed a bit surprised at the score, yet very excited. We finally calmed down a bit and prepared to listen. The plan for the second half was to play smart and aggressive defense and keep churning out the yards on offense. I can remember sitting there on a hard locker room bench listening to Coach Fox. I was so exhausted that I could barely move, with steam rising from every pore. I was wondering if I could walk back down that ramp, let alone play another half of football. My right shoulder was sound, just a bit sore. As I looked around, I felt like I was the only one out of gas. But it was time to go. We huddled together and yelled “Hornets” on three, and that was the last time I even thought about being tired. I felt re-energized. It was an indescribable feeling being in my first varsity football game as a starter, something that I had worked so hard for for three years. Just then it dawned on me…the thought that being a part of a team was an even better feeling. These guys were great

51 and I knew at that instant that I would never forget them.

52 13 TEAMMATES

We had all sorts of characters on that Alameda team of 1981. At tackle was John “Wolfman” Randolph. He was an incredible athlete. He had been a frosh QB who could throw sixty yards and a very good hoop player as well. John was by far our strongest player. His bench press was outstanding at around 360 pounds. Another tackle was my great friend Jo-Jo Perri, the best baseline shooter in basketball that I have ever seen. He was another former quarterback. Tim Hartman was our center and played linebacker on defense. He was a hard worker and a great student. Tim also excelled at baseball and was slated to get a scholarship at Cornell University. Rich Warnick was a guard and defensive end. He was short and as solid as a rock. Rich was another top performer in the classroom. I admired him a lot. He was a two-year varsity

53 player and gave me lots of encouragement along the way. My best friend, Mike Brannan, was a guard and outside linebacker. He was tough as nails. Strong and muscular with blonde hair, he would get all the chicks’ attention. Mike was a great water skier, who could have been a pro. A big play guy, number 67 had returned an interception seventy yards for a touchdown in the 1980 JV championship game. We were workout buddies, having run many miles together around Edison School and pumped tons of iron at the gym. Mike Robertson, another former QB, was a tight end and defensive tackle. He was a very good baseball player as well. Mike Hawley was one of the few juniors on our team. He played guard and defensive end. Mike was a solid player and my backup at DE. (Later in the season, he beat me out). Dan Green was a fierce outside linebacker. He was one of the smallest players on our defense, but probably the toughest, playing the majority of the season with a broken hand.

54 Junior Greg Koubek was young, but had plenty of experience. Greg had played on championship Pop Warner teams before high school. He was a torpedo on the defensive line for us. Robbie Robinson was a big junior tackle. He was our biggest player at 6’ and 210 lbs. Robbie went on to play center in college. Adrian Veenbaas was a WR and DB. He was our fastest player, and did a great job for the team. Kevin Rivera played WR and cornerback. He and I had a long history together. We were classmates at Otis School in kindergarten back in 1969. We had come up together on soph- frosh with Coach Thoms. Curt Leavitt was our free safety. He was very sharp and was an outstanding runner on the Hornet track team. Joe Abasolo was a slotback and corner. He was highly skilled and tough. Joe’s buddy, Eugene Corpuz, was our other corner. Eugene was a smart player whom I’d known from my paper route days with the Oakland Tribune.

55 Mike Kelly was our runningback. He had switched from slotback when Eddie Galvan had hurt his knee in the first game of the year. Eddie had been very skilled, while Mike played with tons of heart and pounded his way for over 750 yards in nine games. Ricky Young was our fullback and inside linebacker. The champion wrestler anchored our defense. He averaged about fifteen tackles a game. Herb Haley was a WR for us. He was number 83 and had great speed. Herb and I palled around some. He had a great sense of humor and gave me my nickname, “Madman McGee”. Our QB was Dave Faria. We had been next door neighbors when we were little kids. Dave had moved away and I didn’t see him again until high school. He was a good athlete who also excelled in baseball. A smooth passer and a quiet leader, Dave also punted for our team. Steve Floyd was a tough inside linebacker on our squad. The younger brother of Mike Floyd pounded ballcarriers time and time again.

56 Danny Laing wore number 90 and played tackle. He had great intensity and a sense of humor. He was shattered after hurting his knee in San Ramon, but no one would ever have known it. Danny cheered us on every step of the way in practice and in games.

57 14 VICTORY

The second half versus Piedmont was a whirlwind. We ground out yards with Young pounding the middle and Kelly slashing off tackle. Piedmont went to the air, time after time. Schwab scrambled and passed and scrambled some more. Late in the third quarter we drove down the field and had first and goal at the Highlander two-yard line. The “heavy” formation we used that night had me in the slotback position between the tackle and tight end. Coach Fox called a power play to my side. The ball was snapped and I hit a linebacker, driving him back three yards with every ounce of adrenaline I had left. Touchdown Hornets! The PAT was no good and we led 13-7. Sheer euphoria! That’s all I can say to describe it. We were on top of the world, but the game was far from over. On the ensuing series, the dangerous Sandy Schwab hit a few passes to fellow all-leaguers

58 Charlie Camporeale and Cory Anderson. Our defense regrouped and started to swarm. Rich Warnick and I sacked Schwab and the ball popped loose. I scrambled for it, but the referee ruled his knee was down, no fumble. On the next play I got a piece of the quarterback as he threw and Curt Leavitt picked off the pass. Curt sprinted up field behind our intense blocks. Finally, he was wrestled to the beat up turf. A few minutes later the clock ran out, and we had done it! We beat the odds and upset Piedmont on there homecoming night. I can still remember yelling, “Hornets, Hornets!” at the top of my lungs as the Alameda fans stormed the field. It was a chaotic frenzy of black and gold. Yells and screams. Adrenaline and dirt and sweat and joy.

15 A NEW SEASON

A 1-1 record doesn’t sound that great. But when you were 0-1, and then you bump off the top team, things look fabulous. The coaches, players, fans, and community were revitalized after the furious and fantastic victory in the Piedmont hills. Game 3 was to be against the Falcons of Harry Ells High. The game would be played under the lights of El Cerrito High School, since Ells didn’t have lights, and it was the Falcons’ homecoming. Harry Ells was a poor team in ’81. We knew this and it ended up hurting us. We had our weekly team meeting at Kevin Rivera’s house the night before game day. I was voted team captain for the Ells game. It was a great honor. I was really fired up, even though I was still sore from the Piedmont game. We munched on chips and guacamole and looked forward to another win.

60 It was very cold on that Friday night in El Cerrito. It was sad to see only twenty fans show up for Harry Ells’ homecoming. (Not much school spirit at a school that would close in a few years due to low enrollment.) The Falcons had been down since 1978 when they came in second to Alameda’s championship team. They had a solid runningback named Nate Fairley. He was about 5’10” and 210 lbs. and had good speed. I jogged out to the fifty-yard line for the coin toss. I called heads and we won the toss. I elected to receive and hustled back to the sideline to get ready for the kickoff return team. The game started. We had two penalties on the first series and then punted. On the second play of defense a pulling Falcon guard hit me in the left knee with his helmet. I went down hard, but popped back up quickly. In a lot of pain and anger I hobbled back to the defensive huddle. I played all night on that sprained knee. It hurt and I didn’t do very well, especially on a short sweep to my side near the goal line. I contained the play, but couldn’t push off to make the tackle and the runner scored.

61 Our team didn’t fare very well that night either. We played over-confidently and sloppily and barely came away with a 25-12 victory. (It should have been 42-0). We were now 2-1 in league and tied for first place. The next morning Coach LeMoine came by and saw me at Bay Isle Wine and Spirits, my weekend job, to see how my knee was. I could barely walk. He recommended that I go and get it checked out. I was really down. I went to the doctor on Monday afternoon: second degree sprain of the medial collateral ligament. Great! I iced my knee and started rehab right away: Cybex, Ultrasound, etc. The doc said I would probably be out 3 weeks or more. I was determined to miss no more than one game. Our overall record at the time was 3-3. We were scheduled to play our seventh game at Vacaville High in a non-league affair. Our principal, Harry Price, was a Vacaville alum. It looked to be a very tough game. It was a very warm Friday night under the bright lights in Vacaville. The band started playing and their team roared out onto the field.

62 They had over 50 players. Their smallest player was listed at 185 pounds and their biggest at 300. Vacaville was loaded! Our running game was stuffed all night long. We had to go to the air. QB Dave Faria played a great game. Under heavy pressure he passed for 238 yards. Mike Reno and Mike Brannan both got injured and the score was 34-14 with less than two minutes remaining. Vacaville scored two more times against our weary defense to round out the 48-14 smashing. We had come from the thrill of victory in Piedmont two short weeks earlier to the pain of defeat up in the North Bay. The good news was we were still tied for first place in league. Next up for us were the Cougars of Albany High. Albany was always a very athletic team. The 1981 edition was no different. Their split end was Miguel Wingo, a champion long jumper and sprinter. Big and fast Tyrone Ivory was the flanker. At QB was lightning in a bottle Spud Washington. Defensive back Kenny Wilkerson led the fast Cougar defense. I had hoped to get medical clearance for the Albany game, having an appointment at 2:00

63 p.m. on that Friday. The plan was to get the doc’s John Henry on my medical clearance form, get to Thompson Field by 2:45, and then suit up for the game. Wrong! The doctor was late, and I didn’t get into his office until 2:40. By the time I made it to the field I was pulling my hair out and going crazy. I ran to the sideline and looked up at the scoreboard: Albany 20, Alameda 10 with just about six minutes left in the game. Moments later the tide turned. The Hornets recovered a fumble and scored. After three plays the red and gold Albany team was forced to punt. Alameda drove quickly and scored another touchdown. A great comeback! Final score: Alameda 23, Albany 20. With this exciting comeback win, we were 3-1 in league, and tied for first place with the 3-1 Piedmont Highlanders.

64 16 VARSITY BLUES

Our next game was against the Pacific High Vikings of San Leandro. Pacific was a fifth place team that had nothing to lose against us. We, unfortunately, looked past the Vikings of Burrell Field. We had our sights set on the defending section champion Encinal Jets. Encinal had knocked the 9-0 Hornet varsity out of the playoff picture the year before. The Jets had gone on to win it all at the Oakland Coliseum. We wanted badly to defeat them and make it to the playoffs in 1981. On Friday, November 6th we traveled to Pacific High School on a cold and damp night. We were really fired up to play; too fired up to play. It had been a long week of practice, with the autumn weather beginning to stir up. We did our team warm-up on the south end of Burrell Field as the cars whizzed by on Highway 17 just to our left. Little did we know that the freeway noise was going to be the least of our problems.

65 In hindsight, 20 years later, the game against us was their “Piedmont” game. We were heavily favored. They were psyched up and ready to attack us in hopes of an upset. We, by contrast, were ready to earn a decent win and prepare to battle the blue and white Jets on our home field in seven days. Pacific High had played in the shadow of San Leandro High School for many years. They were the proverbial “step-brother” in town. Even with Marina High closing the year before, Pacific didn’t get much more attention. Gametime finally arrived. We lost the coin toss and kicked off. The Viking offensive line pounded us right off the bat and scored on their first series to take a surprising 6-0 lead. The line was anchored solidly by Eric Timmons at center. Their diminutive RB, Denny Crum, was very elusive and tough. Our D-line had its hands full. Who were these guys? Better question: Where were we? We fumbled three times in the first half, each time in the red zone. Guys started getting on each other in the huddle. We were coming apart at the seams. Pacific converted on a medium range field goal and

66 stormed into the locker room at halftime with a solid 9-0 lead. We tried to regroup at the half, but it was no use. We fumbled two more times in the second half, and the Vikings kept pounding the ball at us all night long: two yards, four yards, three yards. They were intense and unrelenting like a bulldozer in low gear. The nightmare on Teagarden Street finally came to an end at around 9:30 p.m. We lost 23-0.

67 17 HOPE

Our tumultuous season had taken another hit. The dream that began under the lights at Piedmont High had abruptly come to a crunching and startling halt. The team was devastated. Coach Fox looked like he had been punched in the stomach. His demeanor didn’t improve much all week. We were 3-2 in league and 4-5 overall. Our only chance for the post-season was to beat Encinal High in our regular season finale and for the last placed Harry Ells Falcons to upset the Piedmont Highlanders in Piedmont. The odds were definitely against us. We worked hard during the week, finally culminating with a goal line defense drill to wrap up possibly our last practice of the year. I can still see, hear, and feel the last play of practice. I was in at the right defensive end position, and I crashed down hard to get a piece of the diving scout team running back. The

68 whistle blew, and we looked ahead to our game versus the Encinal Jets.

69 18 THE MUDBOWL

It was dark by the time I made my way out of the locker room. It started to lightly sprinkle. I got to my ’68 Camaro, which I had left parked in my usual small parking place on Walnut Street. The faded metallic blue paint was already covered with droplets of rainwater. I got in and turned the key. The worn out 328 engine fired up and sounded as rough as ever. (It was almost time to put in another quart of 10-40). I reached down and popped out the ZZ-Top Fandango 8-track tape and tuned in the radio. AM was on for a change. (When you’re seventeen, you don’t care about AM.) Just before I switched to FM and KSJO I heard something about a huge storm…. It rained cats and dogs all night long. I got to school at the usual 7:30 a.m. time. I bought a warm cinnamon roll with butter from a nice cafeteria lady for twenty-five cents…on to first period to start a surreal day.

70 I blindly attended two or three classes, thinking only of the game and the non-stop rain. In the late morning we had a great assembly in the AHS gym. The cheerleaders did a great job doing skits and firing up the student body. By lunchtime there was talk that the game might be canceled because of so much rain. I wasn’t regular rain. It was the kind that just kept on falling, hard and fast; almost biblical rain. Luckily for us, football was almost never canceled because of weather. 2:00 p.m. finally came and we all made our way down to Thompson Field with the bitter pain of the Pacific loss still in our guts. It was standing room only at Thompson Field that day. The bleachers were packed with hundreds of fans and countless others stood behind the sideline and end zone to watch the big game. It was a raucous mass of gold and black and blue and white. School President Adan Alonzo stood at the 50-yard line in the pouring rain with an American flag for the playing of the “Star- Spangled Banner”.

71 I don’t remember anything about the pre- game warm-ups. The first vivid memory I have of that momentous game is me stomping downfield in the ankle deep greenish-brown soup of Thompson Field on the opening kickoff. The Encinal kick returner fielded the low Mike Reno kick and headed towards my sideline. I had containment on the right side. I was screaming like a madman and ran face first into the startled gridder in blue. I crashed into him, grabbed him around the chest, and drove him into the water-logged turf. Muddy water splashed into my face as the muffled whistle blew into the wet late afternoon sky. For the Encinal game I had switched from slotback to my old position of tight end. It was to be the first time I had played TE in over a year. This strategy would free up Mike Robertson to play fulltime at defensive tackle, and for agile Joe Abasolo to move into the slotback spot. Joe might be called on to run a few counter plays against the quick Jet defense. My chief blocking assignment against the Jets was to get into All Nor-Cal outside linebacker John Levingston’s chest and keep

72 him away from the Hornet ballcarriers. Levingston was a great athlete and a fine young man. I hoped the horrible field conditions would be somewhat of an equalizer. On certain plays my rule was to get downfield and block free safety Michael Lee, another All Nor-Cal defender. In varsity games played in serious mud and rain, rubber footballs could be used instead of the slippery leather ones. Leather balls can get very slick in muddy conditions. On Friday the 13th, in November of 1981, the Hornets had a rubber ball. The Jets didn’t. A messenger from Jet coach Pete Noble came across the field early in the first quarter. They wanted to borrow a rubber ball. Coach Fox answered quickly with a definitive, “No!” His response greatly helped our cause that day. The first quarter was a mud bath of hits, slips, and fumbles. The rain continued to pour form the dark gray sky. Black umbrellas were everywhere and shouts and screams echoed throughout the opening quarter. The second stanza started with a 0-0 score. Jet QB Barry Kruse, a tall, lanky passer, had a

73 rough go through the first twelve minutes. He had fumbled three times and lost two of them. The Hornet defense was doing a super job. John Randolph, Mike Robertson, Ricky Young, Mike Brannan, Rich Warnick, and Dan Green had crushed the Jets on every play. They were making the naysayers (who had jumped off the Alameda bandwagon the past week in San Leandro) eat crow. Midway through the second quarter we had the ball on the Jet 34-yard line. Coach Fox called a “32 Bull G-Trap”. Fullback Ricky Young took the handoff and sloshed through the number 2 hole, just behind our right guard. I had been battling linebacker John Levingston all afternoon. I had gotten pieces of him here and there. On the 32 play I finally got a good angle on Levingston, and I turned him out just a bit. I kept my feet driving and a moment later I glanced up to see our fullback heading upfield near the submerged ten-yard line. I released my block and took off in hopes of getting downfield to get another block. Ricky made a slight move, and the free safety slipped

74 just a bit. The tough Hornet fullback crossed the sunken goal line and we had taken a huge 6-0 lead. Reliable kicker Mike Reno booted the PAT with his flat-toed shoe and we led 7-0. Halftime came a few minutes later. We were going crazy in the locker room. The coaches calmed us down a bit and gave some quick instructions. The second half was a muddy blur. The storm kept raging, we kept running the ball, and Encinal kept fumbling. John “Wolfman” Randolph was closing in on twenty tackles for the game. With less than two minutes left in the high school war, we still led 7-0. We had moved the ball conservatively late in the fourth quarter. It was second and seven for us at the Jet nine-yard line. I had given up on having a pass play called in the huddle, when all of a sudden the play came in. “Red 27 Power, throwback Y-post!” barked QB Dave Faria. This was a fake off-tackle play to the weakside and then a throw to the TE (me!) running a short backside post pattern. I would be wide open and catch a touchdown in the biggest game of the season and of my life.

75 We broke the huddle, got up to the line, and got set. I had a huge adrenaline rush going on, when out of nowhere came a yellow flag and the horrible sound of the ref’s whistle through the rain. Delay of game. We had taken too long to run the play! Take a breath. Back it up five yards and run the play. Wrong! Coach Fox called a running play…the smart call, the right call. In hindsight, just knowing he had called my number meant almost as much getting that TD. With just 58 seconds left on the clock we ran the play. I released downfield to cutoff the free safety. I hit him in the end zone just as the whistle blew ending the play. He didn’t like the high block that I had delivered, and he responded with two quick punches to my helmet. I grabbed him as the flags flew, and the refs rushed in to pull us apart. Both of us were ejected from the game with 52 ticks left on the clock. As I jogged to the sideline, the Hornet crowd cheered wildly. Mr. Esparza, a super parent and loyal fan, gave me a big pat on the back as I reached the sideline.

76 The clock finally ran out in our thrilling 7-0 victory over the Encinal Jets. Our record was 4- 2 in league. We hoped for a big upset at Piedmont High, but it was now time to celebrate our triumph. At 7:00 that night we went to the Alameda High gymnasium for the 1981 homecoming dance. The rain had slowed down slightly. We danced and talked and compared aches and pains from the earlier day’s game. Finally the news came: Piedmont had hammered the Harry Ells Falcons 35-0. Highlander quarterback Sandy Schwab had thrown five TD’s in the rain. Our season was over. For a moment, I was numb all over. I couldn’t breathe or speak. The finality of that moment was stunning. Our hopes for a league title were thwarted. Our dreams of the NCS playoffs were ruined. My eyes welled up with tears. I started to walk home in the rain, not even remembering if I had driven or walked to the dance.

77 19 A BIG FRIEND

On a quiet Saturday morning I was stocking shelves at Bay Isle Wine and Spirits. I was still dealing with the reality that my high school football career was over. I heard the front door buzzer sound and got to my feet. A huge man had just entered the small store. He was at least 6’7” tall and close to 300 pounds. The man had a familiar face, I face that I had only seen on television. It was the “Tooz”, Oakland Raider defensive lineman John Matuszak. The year before Oakland had won the Super Bowl in New Orleans, but in 1981 they were struggling amidst rumors of a move to L.A. Mr. Matuszak didn’t look to be in too good of a mood on that day. I was nervous at first, but when he asked me about the gold practice jersey I was wearing I felt more at ease. I went on to tell him the story of our season. To my surprise, he was very interested. The Tooz went on to tell me that he had played tight

78 end and now was a defensive end, the two positions that I had played. He went out to his truck and brought me back a picture, which he autographed for me. I pulled out my wallet and gave him one of my small football pictures that I kept on hand in case I ran into a cute girl. “I’m sure he’s going to keep that”, I thought to myself. (Five years later, I ran into a friend of mine. She said she had been at a party in San Francisco and had seen John Matuszak there. He was showing people the pictures in his wallet, and my football picture was still there!) The following week John came into the store when I was working. He had free tickets for me to the Monday Night Football game, the Raiders versus Pittsburgh. I told him sorry, but I couldn’t go because my football sports award dessert was the same night. He then reached into his other pocket and with his huge hand pulled out another ticket. “Here”, he said. “This is a ticket to the post- game party at the Hilton. You can sit at my table”. I took the ticket and thanked him profusely as he left the store.

79 The Raider post-game party was not too festive. The defending Super Bowl champs suffered a tough loss that night to the Steelers. To make matters worse, it had been on Monday Night Football, the Raiders’ winning stage. I sat with Bob Chandler, Raider WR, and two pretty ladies. The Tooz was mingling around the room most of the time, but he came by now and then to see how I was doing. Despite the mood in the room, I had a great time, an unforgettable night talking with my heroes. Chandler told me it was okay to ask for autographs, so I got up and walked around with a pen and a few white napkins. I talked to strong safety Mike Davis, a playoff hero in 1980 when he intercepted a Brian Sipe pass in frozen Cleveland to secure the Raiders a trip to Super Bowl XV. He was down, but spent a few minutes speaking with me. (A really nice guy). I ended up getting autographs from Davis, Chandler, Greg Westbrooks, Henry Lawrence, Randy McClanahan, Gene Upshaw, Art Shell, and my big friend John Matuszak.

80 Soon Oakland’s season would end with a thudding upset loss to the Chicago Bears at home. (Jo-Jo Perri and I got to stand less than fifteen feet from the great Walter Payton that night). A few months later owner Al Davis would tear our hearts out and move the team south. I was through playing football and now my team had moved 500 miles away. It might as well have been 5,000,000 miles…a bad time indeed.

81 20 REFLECTIONS

Four years had come and gone, four seasons of football. Four seasons of friends, coaches, wins, losses, pain, and ecstasy. I had traveled from the late seventies to the early eighties in what had seemed like the blink of an eye. Time went by too fast. I had had some great times. Times that I will always cherish, friends that are still with me today, even though I only see them in my memories. We were young and reckless. We were on top of the world. Our goals were not always reached, but our spirit continues to live on; Hornet pride, a part of history. A small part, but an important part nonetheless. My last moments as part of the Hornet football team of 1981 were spent clearing out my locker at Thompson Field. I carefully peeled off what was left of the capital “A” stickers from my helmet. I stuck them to a wrinkled sheet of binder paper and set them aside to take home and save. My white Adidas cleats came out of

82 the locker last, still damp and mud-caked from the Jets’ game. I pounded them on the concrete floor, got up slowly, and walked out of that great chapter in my life.

83 21 HORNET HOOP

After football season ended I went on to play basketball for Alameda High. I took great pride in being the only football player on the Hornet varsity hoop team that year. I worked hard in practice every day, but never started a game. I was a 5’11” forward/center who thought I was 6’4”. We won seven games and secured a playoff berth with one regular season game remaining: Encinal at the Jet gym. The reward for all my hard work during the season came with two minutes left in the fourth period and us leading by eighteen points. I didn’t think I was ever going to get into the game, and I was growling under my breath for the chance. Somewhere in the bleachers came a low chant, “McGee, McGee, McGee….” It got louder and louder until the gym echoed with my name. Our coach called my number finally, and I got to go in. I had a blast in the one minute or so

84 I played, throwing three full court passes to Ronny DiFabio, a reserve guard that hit on three quick layups. Three assists and the season was over. After the game I ran into John Levingston in the locker room. He played forward on the Encinal hoop squad. He said to me, “Nice passing, you should have been a quarterback”. I thanked him and wished him well in college.

85 22 MOVING ON

During the Springtime I lifted weights and jogged instead of running my second year of varsity track at Alameda High. My new jogging course was on City Line Road, a new street just north of the Oakland Airport. On occasion I would run with Coach LeMoine, who lived nearby. I would tell him about how I was going to play JC ball and then move on to a university before visiting the Oakland Raiders as a walk- on. Coach LeMoine would give me a serious look and tell me that no matter what I did, to work hard at it. My immediate goal at the time was to play football at Laney or Chabot College in the fall of 1982. The head coach from Laney College had been my driver’s training instructor, but I ended up going to Chabot Community College in Hayward. The atmosphere at Chabot was nice and I was somewhat familiar with the area, since I had many relatives that lived nearby.

86 QB Dave Faria, DB Joe Abasolo, and I signed up to tryout for the Chabot Gladiators football team. Dave went out for quarterback and Joe went out for cornerback. I didn’t think I should tryout for TE since most of the guys were over six feet and weighed at least 235. I contemplated strong safety but finally decided to go out for receiver. The Gladiators were coming off a championship season. Hornet alum Randy Perri was a starting defensive tackle for them. Marcus McDade was a JC All-American cornerback. Former Jet Junior Tautaulatasi was their star runningback. We ran and lifted and participated in football drills for many weeks. The running was sprints, 1.5 mile runs for time, and other conditioning. We ran “gassers”. That meant you had to run from sideline to sideline four times full speed. We did endurance weight training at stations. It was thirty seconds of bench, thirty seconds of bar dips, and so on. The football drills were fun. I got to run routes and learn plays. In late July, we had a written test on

87 the countless plays we had learned. I studied hard and got a 100%. The Pioneers from Cal-State University Hayward came down from the hill to challenge us in 7-on-7 games. This was great experience. (In one game, the old Hornet RB Bobby Arnold was playing cornerback as I played wide receiver). By mid-August, Dave and Joe had hung it up for different reasons. I had begun the summer as one of twenty-three receiver candidates. My time in the 40 yard dash had dropped to 5.0, my best all-time, but I was still the slowest out of all the receivers. By late August, sixteen receivers had been cut or quit. I was the seventh receiver, and that meant a lot. A letter that arrived in the mail from the head coach, Terry Cagaanan, verified that I had made the team. What a great feeling! The day before pads were given out and triple-session practices were to begin, I twisted my knee diving for a pass. I limped around all day, trying my best to keep up. The injury broke my concentration, and I actually dropped a few passes that afternoon.

88 The next morning Coach Cagaanan called me into his office. He told me that he wanted me to red-shirt and play the next season since I had sprained my knee. He went on to say that I wouldn’t get much, if any, playing time during my first year at Chabot. I asked him if I could give him my decision the next day, and he agreed.

89 23 CROSSROADS

My football odyssey had been a long one: street ball, only one play my freshman year, eleven sacks as a sophomore, starting on the JV championship team, playing varsity and just missing the playoffs, making a college team, and then another injury. I was at a crossroads in my football career and in my life. Even though I was only eighteen at the time, I knew it. Should I red-shirt? Should I quit? Should I get a job and not attend college? Important questions and important answers…. My declared college major at the time was Fire Service Technology. Of course I had dreams of playing pro football, but as “plan B” I chose the career of a firefighter. My grandfather from Ireland had been a firefighter in Oakland for thirty-five years, and I had hoped to follow in his footsteps. I could work and still have plenty of time to workout and do side jobs. A few of my new friends in the firefighter program said I would never get hired by a

90 department if I had a bad knee. This information strongly influenced my decision. After some serious thought, I decided to give up football and concentrate on my schoolwork. I told Coach Cagaanan of my decision. He said he hated to see me go. I thanked him for the experience and walked out of football. No football. For a time I felt depressed, like a failure. An empty space developed inside that would last for quite a while. I tried to think positively and move ahead. Within a few weeks I refocused my energies on school.

91 24 THE PLAY

Later that fall I got talked into going to the Cal-Stanford Big Game by my great friend Brad Paul. I had a horrible head cold, but I went nonetheless. He attended Cal so we would sit in the Bears’ rooting section. John Elway was the quarterback for Stanford that year. He was a senior and hoped to beat Cal on his way to professional football. It was a back and forth game with Cal finally taking the lead late in the fourth quarter. With about two minutes left in the contest, Elway led the Cardinal on a great comeback. On fourth and long, he threw a frozen rope that was completed for a key first down. Moments later, Stanford scored with just seconds on the clock. I felt miserable the entire game with three handkerchiefs and a can of warm soda. For Cal to lose like this was like a kick in the head. I had been a Golden Bear fan

92 since I was a little kid and my dad used to take us on the AC Transit bus to the games in Berkeley. Muncie, Bartkowski, et al would cringe at the ending of this game for sure. NOT for sure! Seconds later the never say die Cal kickoff return team lateraled the pigskin for an eternity. Finally, Kevin Moen crossed the goal line and crashed into one of the Stanford band members that had prema- turely rushed the field to celebrate. I was swept up in an exuberant tide of blue and the next thing I knew, I was down on the field. The axe was carried within a few feet of me in the celebrating sea of collegiate humanity. For a few hours at least, my broken heart didn’t ache so much.

93 25 A NEW ERA

During the fall, I heard about an opening on the Alameda High School frosh football staff. Art Thoms was still the head coach and Steve Yamasaki was his top assistant. I spoke to them and got hired. I coached receivers and defensive ends that year. Coaching wasn’t the same as playing, but it was great in its own way. The young Hornets were really neat guys. They worked very hard and reminded me of younger days. One of the vivid memories that I have from coaching the AHS frosh was during the 1985 season. We were playing the De La Salle Spartans on their field up in Concord. We had around twenty players suited up and they had close to fifty-five. It was late in the season and we were pretty banged up. We had only won one or two games that year as we struggled through inexperience and injury. De La Salle pounded us for then entire game. We were outmatched on offense,

94 defense, and special teams. With 0:57 remaining on the clock in the fourth quarter, we were down 72-0. The Spartans had the ball on our one-yard line and were looking to score again. It was third down and I called time-out. I jogged out onto the field, not really knowing what to say to those eleven lost souls. Sam Yun, the captain of our defense, got the huddle together and ready to listen. I didn’t say a word…just stared into the eyes of each worn down teenager with a proud glare. I ran off the field and hoped for the best. Those kids stopped De La Salle on the next two plays from the one. They showed some serious pride as they dug down deep for two solid plays. (Sam Yun returned a kickoff 80 yards for a touchdown against the Spartan varsity the next year as a small sophomore with a huge heart). I ended up coaching seven seasons for the Alameda High frosh, culminating with a stellar 28-0 victory over Encinal on Stargell Field.

95 26 COLLEGE DAZE

In 1985 I graduated from Chabot College, earning my A.A. degree in Fire Service Technology. By then I loved working with kids so much I decided to continue my education and become a teacher and a coach. I transferred to California State University Hayward and majored in physical education and minored in history. My knee was pretty sound by then and I got into judo, with Mr. Robert Zambetti as my sensei. He was a great role model and coach, who worked with the United States Olympic team. I competed on the judo team for four seasons, participating in over sixty matches. In ‘88 I earned my B.S. degree in physical education, and the next year I received my California teaching credential for physical education and history. A few months later I was hired as an elementary physical education teacher in the Newark Unified School District.

96 27 THE LAST HURRAH

In the spring of 1990 I ran into an old acquaintance named Daryl Nish. He was a former Encinal High fullback and linebacker who was the current co-captain of the Bulldogs, an adult league flag football team. The Bulldogs played their games at Bret Harte Park in the Hayward foothills. Nish told me about how his team was preparing for the upcoming season. One problem…they needed a quarterback. I told him I’d give it a shot. The Hayward league consisted of eight teams. Each team had around thirteen players. Most of the guys were old high school players, predominately ranging in age from twenty-two to thirty-two. A few men in their late thirties and early forties also played. (One fellow was fifty-two!) Three of the leagues players’ names I knew: Manuel Manzo, a former all-league QB from Tennyson High in Hayward, John Vella, the

97 retired Oakland Raider lineman, and Freddy Belitnikoff, Jr., son of the Super Bowl XI MVP. Manzo was 6’4” and could still wing it, especially on the adult league’s short sixty-five yard field. Vella was big, but still as quick as a cat. He played DE and TE for his team. Freddy, Jr. was a DB and WR on our team. In one memorable game I threw a long first down pass to Belitnikoff as Vella was rushing in at me. The day of our first practice arrived. I wasn’t sure how I’d do, but I knew my arm was sound. I’d thrown thousands of passes during the previous nine seasons as a receiver coach. I was really focused that day, in the “zone”. I completed 25 out of 30 passes and threw for 6 touchdowns. The five passes that I did not complete were dropped. The gold and black Bulldogs were sold on me at QB. In 1989 the ‘Dogs had gone winless, losing all seven flag games. There wasn’t much pressure me, since to win one game would be an improvement. Our first game was against the Panthers, the defending Hayward Adult champions. On our first possession we drove down the field in five

98 plays and scored. My conversion pass fell incomplete and we lead 6-0. Our fans (all four of them) went crazy. My Uncle Joe was there…just like during my high school days, cheering us on. (He’s a great uncle!) The Panthers seemed a bit out of synch and surprised, but they quickly regrouped and scored to take an 8-6 lead. We answered back on the next drive with my second touchdown pass of the night to go ahead 12-8. Our lead was short-lived, as they hit on a long pass and a conversion to lead 16-12. Their defense stiffened and we were shutout the rest of the way. The one hour running clock expired, and we lost the game. Our team was pretty upbeat despite losing. We bounced back and won our second game 20- 8. I played pretty well, but pulled a groin. (That strain ended up getting worse each week and made me feel “old” at 26). At 1-1, our expectations were high, but we only ended up winning one more game and finished at a disappointing 2-5. Three of our losses were fairly close. In one forgettable loss,

99 I threw three interceptions and no touchdowns, and we lost 42-6. Overall, I had a good year and lots of fun. I finished with 16 touchdowns and 9 interceptions. One of the best things about that season was I got to play on the same team with my best friend, Erick Waddington. He did a good job, even when he had to block John Vella on occasion.

100 28 COUGAR COUNTRY

After being hired to teach in Newark, I soon found a spot on their frosh football staff. Newark had a proud football tradition, going back to the many battles between the Knights of Newark High and the Patriots of Memorial High School. In the early 1980’s the old Newark High was converted into a junior high and only one high school remained: Newark Memorial High School. The new mascot was the “Cougars”, and in a very short time they had taken their place among the East Bay fraternity of quality football programs. The head coach of the varsity was Rich Swift. (Coach Swift led the blue and gold Cougars to a 9 - 1 record in 1985). Defensive coordinator Ron Johnson, Coach Swift’s right hand man, did a superlative job teaching and inspiring the Cougar defense. Newark Memorial continues to turn out quality teams and young men each autumn.

101 Jim Proffitt was the head coach for the frosh team at Newark Memorial. He was a Vietnam veteran and science teacher and a great motivator. Dan Freitas was the defensive coordinator. Coach Freitas was an intense competitor and a fine teacher of football technique. I learned a lot from the two of them. We had a great team in ’89. At QB was Marcus Aldridge, a strong young man that could run or pass. The runningbacks were Chade Martinez and Odell Safdari, two small freshmen that were quick and very tough. The receivers were outstanding! Hugo Gutierrez and brothers James and David Hernandez were three unbelievable route runners and pass catchers. I was very lucky to work with them in the fall of 1989. Than Nguyen and Sammy Kupau anchored our tough defense. We shut out most of our opponents. The young Cougars outscored most adversaries by thirty or forty points. We were a perfect 6-0 going into the Mission Valley Athletic League frosh championship game. Our adversaries were the Warriors of Mission San Jose whom also sported a stellar 6-0 record. A

102 great game ensued, full of thunderous hits that rarely are seen below the varsity level. Neither team would back down, and the halftime score was 0-0. Late in the third quarter, one of our cornerbacks pulled a hamstring and I sent his backup in. On the next play Mission ran a halfback pass and scored a crucial touchdown over that subbing DB. Mission kicked off, and we ran three plays and punted. On the Warriors’ first down one of our inside linebackers forgot to go into the game, and Mission bolted to a long TD run right up the middle. Final score: 16-0, Mission. 6-1 was a great year, but losing a championship was very rough. Coach Proffitt gave an upbeat talk to the team afterwards, telling them that 6-1 tied for the best frosh record in Newark frosh football history. My first season in Cougar Country was over. I ended up coaching four seasons with the Newark freshmen football team. We had three 6-1 campaigns, one of them a co-championship finish. I’ll never forget that championship game,

103 a great battle under the lights of Cougar Stadium on a cool November night. We played the Huskies from Washington High School (Bill Walsh’s old stomping grounds) for the MVAL title. The first half was precision for us, and we went into the locker room with a commanding 20-0 lead. Coach Proffitt had called all the right plays and the defense was fantastic. The second half went well and we churned out ten more points to lead 30-0 with just under four minutes remaining. I sent in a backup free safety to get in on some plays and to be a part of the championship. A few coaches questioned my call, wanting to do everything to preserve a shutout victory. I replied with calm resolve and confidence in my player. On the next play my reserve player intercepted a Huskey pass and returned it fifty yards for the final score of the game. We had won the championship, the first frosh championship in Newark history!

104 29 THE TURKEY BOWL

A good friend I met through teaching was Jack Nelson. Jack taught P.E. in San Leandro. He was legendary in that city for fundraising for schools. His nickname was “the Iron Man” because he would routinely run countless miles to raise dollars for kids. Jack was raised in the Oakland hills and was fortunate to have had a huge backyard. He and his brothers chalked out a medium sized football field on the sloping back lawn. The field is fine, except you need to watch out for one manhole cover. The Nelsons even have a small goalpost at one end. Each year the family plays football on Thanksgiving with friends and relatives. This wonderful tradition began sometime in the 1960’s and still happens each year. I was fortunate enough to be invited to play in November of 1992. We had a great time that day. I played QB and Jack was my top receiver. It was all offense

105 and we came away with a 42-41 victory. The next year we lost 20-8. (Jack “the Wrecking Crew” had to take over for me at QB in that affair.) A few years later we tied 20-20, and in my last game we came from behind to pull the victory out of the jaws of defeat. (Jack led the second half comeback.) It’s amazing how sore you can get from playing just one game!

106 30 FOURTH QUARTER

After teaching physical education and getting layoff notices for three years, I decided to switch to the classroom where there is much better job security. I coached one more year of frosh football in Newark in between correcting papers and doing lesson plans. At the end of that season I made the difficult decision to stop coaching. The subsequent autumn I tried to talk myself into believing that I didn’t need football. I would have more time for work, more time to workout, etc. I only half believed my own advice. On some days I was happy and on other days I was depressed. I felt like an athlete that had retired too early. After the first few years, I really began to miss football. I had always wanted to coach at the varsity level. My dream was finally realized in the fall of 1997. I was hired to work on Coach Swift’s varsity and JV staffs for the Newark Memorial Cougars.

107 I ended up coaching with the varsity and JV Cougar staffs for four seasons. We had some great players and great times. In November of 2000, the team went 5-1 in league and earned a spot in the NCS playoffs. We lost a tough 7-0 game to our arch-rival James Logan High of Union City. It would have been great to beat them. We then would have played De LaSalle High of Concord, the top team in the nation, in the section semi-finals. (In 2001, the Cougars posted a memorable 9-2 record). It was a great experience to work with the fine Cougar coaching staff. All good things come to an end, and I decided to hang up the coaching cleats once more and focus my energies on teaching. From 1978 to 2000 football was a very important part of my life, but I finally knew it was time to say goodbye. I’ve been very fortunate in my life. I’m thirty-seven years old now, and close to twenty years have passed since that “Mudbowl” with the Encinal Jets. As I sit here and write this book, thousands of high school football players across the country are participating in their

108 double-session practices. One day I hope they can look back and have at least some of the great memories that I now hold. Life is wonderful and uncertain. You need to set goals and work towards them. Some goals may be “dreams”, but anything can happen. Some of the things that I have learned from my football journey are: friendships are priceless, don’t take anything for granted, be honest, be yourself, always give 100%, and TEAM matters. Don’t get discouraged if you fail to achieve some of your goals. They are not really failures, just changes in your life’s journey…in history. You are a part of history, an important piece in this complex odyssey called life.

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