I DID IT

When I was a little boy I lived and breathed football.  Touch football, flag football or tackle football, it didn’t matter.  It was the kids on my block against all challengers.  When we were in school it was football from 3 pm until our mothers screamed for us to get in the house for dinner.  In the summer it was from after breakfast until our mothers screamed for us to get in the house for dinner. 

Fortunately, my Dad loved the game too.  In his quest to build a restaurant empire he was working virtually 24/7.  But no matter where he was during his day that would begin at 7 in the morning and end after his night club closed at 2 am, he would manage to get home by 4 in the afternoon to have a knockdown, drag out football game in the street with us kids before heading back to work.  I would stare down the block waiting for his car to round the corner, and then greet him at his car with a football in my hands.  We would divide up teams and the games were on. 

Thanksgiving Day dinner could not begin until we had returned from the annual Los Angeles Rams game at the Coliseum.  There were not near as many games on TV then as there are now so when they were on, it was a special treat for me.  Bowl games and playoffs were can’t miss TV.  I could tell you the starting roster of every team in the NFL without even blinking.  And being a quarterback myself I idolized the QB’s.  There was zero doubt in my mind that one day I would be one of them. 

Throughout high school nothing changed.  I loved playing the game, my best friends were on the team and football players were my kind of guys.  I still followed all levels of football and my goal was still the same. 

After high school I went out for football at Orange Coast College and tore ligaments in my ankle during two a day practices and was out for the year.  The following year I transferred to USC for the spring semester.  That meant I was there in time for spring training.  It was time to put up or shut up. 

I was what you would call “under the radar”, meaning I did not have a scholarship to play.  I would be considered a walk on, in other words, the bottom of the totem pole.  I did not care.  I had been dreaming of this my entire life.

I found out when we were supposed to report for the first day of practice and I was there.  I walked into the locker room filled with the best of the best.  Every player there had been the best player on his team, in his league or in his state.  In some cases the best in the country.  Their uniforms were laid out for them and their locker reserved with their name on it.  I, along with a few others, had to scrounge for everything. 

I walked up to the trainer and requested a uniform.  He asked who I was, looked through several pages on his clip board and said “I don’t see your name”.   After some smooth talking he issued me a uniform.  I got the leftovers which means I got a jersey and pants for a 275 pound lineman even though I went about 180 wearing wet clothes.  I wasn’t discouraged.  I proudly put on the cardinal and gold and headed for the field. 

My name was not on any coaches clip board for any of the drills so I had to work my way in to try and get noticed.  I got in line with the QB’s, 2 of which, in future years, would lead the Trojans to a National Championship.  When it was my turn to throws passes to receivers the coaches looked at each other with a Who-the-hell-is-this-guy? look on their faces.  I zipped a few passes right on the money and felt pretty good. 

Unfortunately for me the NCAA, in a cost saving move, legislated that players must play offense and defense.  This rule only lasted a couple of years but this was one of them.  We moved to defense.  I stood off to the side watching when suddenly, a coach grabbed my jersey and shoved me into position as a strong side linebacker.  The first play called was a sweep to my side.  I charged up to take on the lead blockers and was instantly buried.  As I lay there gasping for air I looked up and saw the face of the coach who had grabbed me.  He said “Get the hell off the field.”

As the days went by I made a decision.  Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a professional football player.  I had dreamt about it since I was knee high but reality was setting in.  The hardest part was telling my Dad.  I called him one night and told him of my decision.  He said he was proud of me.  As only a Mom or Dad can do he said all the right things for that place and that time.  I meekly said maybe sports aren’t everything and I should concentrate on my studies. 

I never did get to run out on the floor of the Coliseum but I did get to put on the uniform of the University of Southern California.