1964 –– Pioneer League Championship: As seen through the eyes of Richard Rockne Crowell
The extended version of this story begins in the summer of 1961. I had been waiting my entire life to play high school football. Throughout elementary and junior high school, I rarely missed an Eagle home game on Friday nights. At the end of every summer I sensed when the "two-a-days" started, and always showed up at the high school to witness the torture taking place on the practice field. I could hardly wait to be a part of this savage ritual.
I received a letter from the high school informing me when and where football signups and physical exams would be. I made sure I was one of the first in line. When I arrived at the high school I quickly realized that the number of freshmen who wanted to play football was quite small; the "B" football team would be composed of mostly juniors and sophomores. The "B" football team had won the Pioneer League championship the year before, and many of the boys in the junior class who had never played high school football before decided they were going to be part of another championship team.
As part of the signup process we filled out our paperwork and waited in a line to talk to Coach John Stevenson; after a brief interview we would take a physical exam. When it was my turn to enter the room I walked in and sat down at a seat across the table from Coach Stevenson. He was interviewing a tall, skinny kid I had never seen before. I found out the kid's name was Mike Battle and he looked like a football player; deep set eyes, high cheek bones, 50's style flat-top haircut. He kind of looked like Bill Kilmer, the UCLA quarterback. I remember hearing Coach Stevenson saying, "Mike Battle, huh, any relation to Art Battle?" Well, I had no idea who Art Battle was, but would soon find out. Mike's reply was, "Yea, he's my uncle". I had my interview with Coach Stevenson, took my physical exam, and headed home. That night at the dinner table I asked my dad, "Who is Art Battle?" My dad told me Art Battle was an All American halfback who played football for USC in the 40's. Yea, Mike Battle looked like a football player.
The next meeting of the "B" football team was the day we were issued practice uniforms. The "two-a-days" would be starting soon, and I could hardly wait. We were lined up in class order; seniors first, Eddie Pagett was the only senior, then juniors, sophomores, and freshmen. By the time they got to the freshmen, all the practice uniforms were gone. Wait! This can't be! You mean to tell me that after waiting 14 years I can't play football because you don't have enough uniforms? But I have a pair of cleats. You've got to give me a uniform. Coach Stevenson gave us the bad news, but told us that any freshman who wanted to volunteer as a team manager might get a uniform later in the season. Well, this didn't appeal to most of the freshmen so they quickly started walking home to give their parents the bad news; all except me and Bill Landreth.
We were going to play football even if it meant taking on team manager responsibilities and waiting for uniforms to become available. The first day of practice it was obvious to Bill and me that we'd have practice uniforms in a day or two; I never heard so much bitching and complaining in my life. Our dreams soon came true. By Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday morning Bill and I had our uniforms. Many of the upperclassmen had decided it was more fun to drink chocolate Cokes at Dick's Cafe? after school; to hell with playing "B" football. As soon as possible Bill and I were on the practice field in full uniform. Of course, Coach Stevenson didn't hesitate to tell us that our team manager responsibilities did not get turned over to someone else. We still had to clean out lockers when someone quit. We still had to make sure there were towels, water, blocking bags, medical supplies, and spare equipment on the field before each practice. And we still had to clean up the locker room when everyone was done with their showers after practice. However, by the end of that first week, Bill and I had some of the best equipment available to the "B" team.
The following week school started and we were down to one practice a day. There were only five freshmen playing football that year. In addition to Landreth and myself there was Mike Battle, Marc Smith, and Mark Allen. Mark Allen as a 14 year old freshman had to play varsity because of his size. Mark practiced every day with the varsity, literally got the holy shit knocked out of him, and never got to suit up for a game; CIF rules. But he stayed with it. Most everyone on the "B" team thought Battle was a sophomore because he was 15 years old. However, after school started we found out he was only a freshman. Marc Smith was possibly the best athlete in our class, so it was no surprise that he too ended up with a uniform before the two-a-days started. By 1964 only three of these five freshmen would be playing football for El Segundo High School; me, Marc Smith, and Mark Allen.
High school football was everything I had hoped it would be. As a team we ended up with an overall record of 5-4, but were 5-2 in league and took third place. Battle alternated between quarterback and halfback, while Smith played defensive back. As for Bill Landreth and myself, well we played in the final minutes of the fourth quarter when the Eagles were ahead or behind by two or three touchdowns. At least we played more than poor old Mark Allen. I came away with the attitude that I would be bigger, stronger, faster, and tougher the following year, and would win a starting position.
The 1962 season started out with a little more balance on the "B" team. We initially had about 50 players, approximately half freshmen and half sophomores. As the season progressed many dropped out and several upperclassmen from the varsity came down to join us. The varsity also had a different balance. Mike Battle had moved up to varsity joining Mark Allen, and Kenny Wilson, Jeff Peterson, and Bob Wood started their high school football careers as sophomores on the varsity squad.
The experience I had gained as a freshman helped as a sophomore. I earned starting positions on offense and defense; I was a happy camper. Marc Smith took over the quarterback responsibilities, but my long time friend Bill Landreth moved back to Oklahoma. The team was composed of so many of my friends from elementary school and junior high school, I felt extremely good about our prospects for success. The first game gave us our first victory, a solid 21-13 win over St. Anthony. As I recall John Booterbaugh scored all three touchdowns, and this would be the trend throughout the entire season. If Boots didn't score, we didn't score. Unfortunately, John had a weak Achilles tendon and wasn't always on the field when we needed him.
After this first big win things would only get worse. The next game against Mira Costa would bring us back down to earth. Boots didn't score, so we didn't score; a 0-19 loss. However, a three touchdown loss to Mira Costa was nothing to be ashamed of. Mira Costa had a larger enrollment than El Segundo, and competed in a stronger division. However, game three would literally change the mindset of our team.
Next was the game with Culver City. Culver City had an enrollment of about 1400 students, but was only a three year high school. Their "B" football team was made up of mainly juniors, with a few sophomores and seniors. They let us know who was in control from the opening kickoff. Our first offensive play Booterbaugh carried the ball and picked up a couple of yards. Smith called John's number again on second down. John indicated he had roughed up his Achilles tendon on the previous play and wanted to rest it. Smith called another running play, this time Richard Johnson got the ball with basically the same results. Now it was third and five, Smith called Boot's number again. No, his leg was still bothering him. Next, he called Johnson's number. No, his leg was also bothering him. So on third down, by default, I got a chance to carry the ball. This was a rare opportunity for me since as the starting fullback all I ever did was block for the two halfbacks. Well, I carried the ball, didn't get the first down, but my legs were still healthy. Smith punted on fourth down.
Culver City scored on its first offensive series. No big plays, just ground it out, kicking our butts on every play. This set the tone for the entire game, but things would get worse. In the second quarter Smith called a pass play. The pass blocking broke down (yea, I know, blame the fullback) and Smith took off around left end. He was met by the entire Culver City defense. After the dog pile unloaded, Smith remained on the ground, screaming in pain. He had broken his leg. We were totally demoralized, and this negative feeling would stay with us for the entire season; we never won another game.
Now, as for Marc Smith, his leg was broken in a hundred places. He had to wait for about 4 or 5 days for the swelling to go down before the doctors could operate. His leg would never fully recover. As a freshman Marc had high jumped 5' 10" on the track team and participated at the varsity level in many track meets. However, after the broken leg he lost all the spring in his right leg and would work hard for three more years before he reached the height of 5' 10" again. Marc's right leg stopped growing and he ran with a limp the rest of his high school career. However, Smith was a competitor. He came out for track again his sophomore year and took up pole vaulting. Although he had lost speed and the spring in his legs he still had the quickness and strength to pole vault and play football. Coach Calbreath gave Marc the nickname "Step-and-a-Half" because of the way he ran down the pole vault runway. Smith ended up being the #1 pole vaulter in the Pioneer League by his junior year.
One more note on the Culver City game. During the second half of this game, while playing defense, I dislocated the middle finger on my right hand. The finger was bent at the second knuckle going the wrong way. It hurt like hell and tore the skin on the palm side of the finger. I came out of the game complaining to the coach. Coach Stevenson grabbed the finger, popped it back in place, and told me to go back out on the field. Well, I whined and moaned like a little baby and he sent someone else out to take my place. When the game was over I got to thinking about this incident. I felt really embarrassed that I had "wimped-out". I wished Coach Stevenson had kicked me in the ass and told me to get back out on the field. I would never let this happen again.
Meanwhile, back on the varsity team Mike Battle had earned a starting position as the free safety, and returned all punts and kickoffs. Needless to say Battle was one of the most exciting high school football players I had ever watched. He was absolutely fearless whether making a tackle or carrying the ball. Bob Wood was also doing well on varsity. He was playing fullback, a little on defense, and getting a fair share of playing time on both sides of the ball. Wilson, Peterson, and Allen were backups on the offensive line and were also getting a lot of valuable experience. The varsity lost its first two preseason games then proceeded to go on a lengthy winning streak under new football coaches, John McHargue and Bud Calbreath. The class of 1963 had a very talented group of athletes and if it hadn't been for a fluke loss to Torrance, they would have won the Pioneer League and gone on to CIF. Unfortunately, in those days only one team per league went to the playoffs. Damn, this was really a good team!
As a junior I figured I was ready to play "varsity football". I'm going to play under the lights. All of those little elementary and junior high school kids are going to look up to me, just like I looked up to all the high school football players when I was in the lower grades. Well, Coach McHargue had other ideas. The first day of the "two-a-days" he called me and Jerry Filson over to talk. He told us we both had "B" exponents and at 5'7" and 125 lbs. we probably would sit the bench if we stayed on the varsity. He thought it would be better if we both went down to the "B" team and played another year. Jerry was a sophomore, so he didn't even argue with the coach; he went down to play on the "B" team. However, I was a junior. I didn't argue with the coach either. I just told him I was playing varsity, plain and simple. Now, the thing that was kind of ironic about this was that Jerry Filson, pound for pound, inch for inch, was probably one of the finest athletes to come out of El Segundo High School. Had he decided to stay on varsity, it wouldn't have surprised me at all if he had won a starting position and played in every varsity game.
I have never regretted my decision. I felt I held my own for a guy that was "too small" for varsity football. I think the coaches respected me and gave me playing opportunities whenever they could. However, the one game I will never forget was the West Torrance game. It was a game where we dominated from the first play, and the coaches started clearing the bench in the third quarter. Somehow I was overlooked. We won the game by a score of 27-0 and I never saw the playing field. Needless to say, I was devastated. I did not go to the after-game dance in the high school cafeteria that night. I spent most of the night walking the streets of El Segundo wondering how I was going to handle this setback. By Monday morning I had it figured out. I was going to confront the coaches before practice, and let them know what was on my mind. Before Monday's practice I walked into the coach's office and told Coaches McHargue and Calbreath that I had not played a single play in Friday night's game. Neither realized that I had been overlooked in this totally one sided game, but promised it would not happen again.
On the practice field I had decided I would do anything to make a lasting impression on the coaches. My big opportunity came when the scout defense was emulating the Aviation defense, while our starting offense "teed off" on us. My anger manifested itself when Battle was running a sweep to his right. As I moved to my left trying to stop his advancement, he hurdled several would-be tacklers. Now, hurdling tacklers was one thing both Coaches McHargue and Stevenson had always tried to discourage Mike from doing; he never listened. As Battle completed his hurdling move, I arrived at his point of re-entry. I exploded into his groin area sending him flying five feet into the air. Coach McHargue yelled, "Who hit Battle?" Well, at this time I wasn't sure if I should run like hell, because I had just knocked the shit out of our star running back or if I should say, "Crowell did it sir, and I'll do it again to anybody that gets in my way." I opted for a more subtle reply, "I did it, Coach" and waited for the response. Coach McHargue seemed to be quite pleased with my big hit, and even though Battle missed the next three days of practice, I had made a positive impression. I burned this particular play into my memory, and hoped I would have a chance to repeat it in the future under different circumstances.
Well, that about sums up my junior year. I didn't play as much as I had wanted, but I did get a fair amount of playing time. I did earn a varsity letter, and may have earned a starting position if my junior high school buddy, Doug Baer, had not returned from military school and earned the starting blocking back job. Doug was a much better athlete than me, anyway, and was tougher than hell. But as a teammate and a friend I was happy to see Doug back playing sports at El Segundo. The Eagles took third place behind Aviation and Lawndale, and Lawndale went all the way to the semi-finals of CIF playoffs with a team composed mainly of juniors. The only two seniors they would lose to graduation would be their quarterback and a two-way starting lineman by the name of Fred Dryer. Their prospects looked pretty good for the 1964 season.
The "B" team under Coach Stevenson won another Pioneer League championship. Many of the smaller juniors had opted to play another year of "B" football; Black, Yasin, Stumpp, Fike, and Gilmore. Sophomores Filson, Brett, L'Hommedieu, Hough, and Traber obtained a second year of experience and contributed to the success of this team. In addition juniors Stokely and Goetz decided to start their high school football careers on the "B" team this year. This "B" team would be instrumental in the success of the varsity football team in 1964. They had a winning attitude, and would carry this winning attitude up to the varsity the following year. Now we come to "the" year, 1964. In the spring of my junior year, Mike Battle's parents moved to Lawndale, and Mike enrolled at Lawndale High School. Marc Smith, Ralph Black, and I had the opportunity to compete against Battle as juniors on the track team. Battle was a pole vaulter at ESHS as a freshman, and was again pole vaulting at Lawndale as a junior. As would be expected Marc Smith won the competition at 13'.
Jim Metoyer, the "friendly Indian", from Lawndale finished second at 12'. Third place was going to be won by me or Battle. I had just vaulted 11' for the first time in the previous week's meet. Battle was vaulting 11', consistently. We both made 11', but it took me two tries, whereas Battle made it on his first attempt. They moved the bar up to 11'6". With one of the best vaults I had ever made, I barely touched the bar at 11'6''. As I lay in the sawdust pit watching the bar swinging back and forth, I prayed it would stay on the uprights; it was not to be. Battle missed 11'6" three times, as did I, but he won third place on fewer misses. I was pissed!
I started my senior year with summer school. I wanted to get U.S Government and Economics out of the way in six weeks rather than struggle with it for two semesters in the fall and spring. The plan worked well as I received credit for two semesters of B with only six week's work. At the end of class each day I would go work out before returning home to study. I was really looking forward to my senior year of football. Battle was at Lawndale, and he wasn't shy about letting El Segundo know that Lawndale was not only going to kick our asses, but they were going to win the Pioneer League and CIF. He had made friends with his Lawndale teammates, and used to bring them to town frequently to try to intimidate us. We started making bets. Battle would bet with anyone at El Segundo; the football team, the pep squad, the drill, team, the rest of the student body, the alumni, etc. There was no doubt in that man's mind Lawndale was going to beat El Segundo in 1964. Mike's Lawndale teammates wanted in on the action; we placed bets with them also. But to really add insult to injury some of the El Segundo alumni, mainly the class of 1963 who Battle had played with as a sophomore, were betting against us. As proud 17 year olds we felt obliged to take all bets; our manhood was at stake. The only problem was we didn't have a coach. Coaches McHargue and Calbreath had accepted other coaching positions in the spring, and the Eagles didn't know who would be the varsity football coaches in the fall of 1964.
Word came in the mid-summer that George Hartman and Don Greeley would be our new football coaches. We had spring training under the old regime, so we had no idea what Coach Hartman's offense and defense would be; we were starting from scratch. At the first team meeting Coach Hartman must have thought, "Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into." Into this meeting walked a bunch of 16 and 17 year olds that looked like they had spent the entire summer at the beach. As a matter of fact, that's exactly what we had done. Few had been working out. Most were tan from a summer of leisure. Some still had our summer beards. I don't think this is what Coach Hartman had experienced in the Anaheim School District. But we did have common goals. We wanted to beat Lawndale. We wanted to win league.
The "two-a-days" soon started and boy, were we in for a rude awakening. The little conditioning I had done at the beginning of the summer had been negated by three weeks in Hawaii, followed by a wild Labor Day weekend in Catalina, where I consumed great quantities of beer and slept on the golf course at night. The first day of practice many of us spent more time "puking" than running. Coach Hartman was disgusted! But that did not change his resolve. He was going to put together a football team even if only eleven players survived his practices. By Friday many had dropped out, and the rest of us were glad "Hell Week" was coming to a close. After Friday afternoon's practice coach told us he had a surprise for us; only one practice on Saturday. He promised it would be a short one, two hours, 9:00 am to 11:00 am. If we worked hard, accomplished the things he wanted done, we'd be home by noon. Well, some of the guys decided to "hydrate" their bodies on Friday night by drinking a few beers; wasn't me. Saturday morning we didn't look too sharp. We didn't do things the way the coaches wanted. We didn't have a lot of pep. We didn't hustle. Coach Harman told us we weren't leaving the field until we accomplished the things he wanted accomplished. By 2:00 pm, we had finally reached his goals. I went home and slept for the rest of the weekend. I hoped and prayed we'd never have another five hour practice.
School started the next Monday and we were back to one practice a day. We scrimmaged Culver City at the end of the week, and actually didn't do too badly considering we'd only been with the new system for two weeks. Of course I'm sure this was probably the simplest offense and defense Coaches Hartman and Greeley had ever put together.
The next week we would have our first game against South Torrance. Now South Torrance was a much bigger school than El Segundo, but they were kind of the doormat of the Bay League; they hadn't won a game the last two years. Our lineup was still in limbo; the coaches were still trying to figure out which group of players worked the best together. Both teams scored three touchdowns, but South made one of their PATs and ended up winning 19-18. This would be the only game all season where our defense would give up three touchdowns; this would never happen again.
However, the injuries started to hit us. Bob Wood had developed back problems after last season, so he was out for the entire season; coach used him as a team manager. Jim MacEachern had problems with his diabetes and dropped out after the "Saturday from Hell". Then in the South game Ted Tyler and Bruce Keeler were racked up. Ted was supposed to be out a couple of weeks, but didn't end up missing any games. Bruce, on the other hand, had pulled some ligaments in his knee, and would see very little playing time for the rest of the season. Then to add insult to injury, John Booterbaugh snapped his Achilles tendon at Tuesday night's practice the week following the South game. So with John and Bruce out, the halfback position was very thin; Mike Brown would be getting a lot of work with little time for rest.
The second game of the season was against Redondo. Redondo, like South, was a bigger school, but unlike South Torrance they were one of the stronger teams in the Bay League. Our offensive and defensive lineups had stabilized by this game, and even though we lost 14-0, I think we made a much better showing. Our defense held Redondo's offense to only one touchdown; Redondo scored a second touchdown on a punt return. Our offense almost scored, but fumbled into the end zone, where a Redondo player recovered the ball. Even though this was a better showing for us, we were still kind of worried because we had lost two games in a row. Lawndale was always in the back of our minds, and we were wondering if we'd be able compete with them if we lost another game. As Kenny Wilson and I walked home after the Redondo defeat, there weren't too many positive thoughts running through our minds.
As we "grumbled" our way home a car pulled up to us and asked if we wanted a ride home; it was Nancy Hereford and Beth Hanson. We told the girls of our reservations about beating Lawndale in four weeks if we couldn't come up with a way to win games soon. Well, the girls let us have a piece of their minds, telling us there was no way we were going to lose to Lawndale. They both had this feeling that something good was going to happen. The game with Lawndale would be our Homecoming game; there was no way we would lose. Nancy was so determined we were going to win she had placed bets not only with Battle, but also with several of the Lawndale players we had gotten to know over the summer. To tell you the truth, Nancy and Beth really made Kenny and I feel a whole lot better. Now, if we could just win a game.
Lawndale's second preseason game was a big one. It was a Saturday night game and they were playing Leuzinger. Leuzinger was the number one ranked football team in the South Bay in 1963, and many thought they deserved to be ranked number one again in 1964. Coach Hartman recommended that we not go see this game; we never listened. It was a really good game and Lawndale won; no one could doubt who was number one in the South Bay now. We knew what we would be up against in four weeks.
An important event happened the week before the St. Bernards game. Kemer Brett had approached Coach Hartman and asked if he could join the team. Since Kemer missed the most strenuous part of any football season, the two-a-days, Coach Hartman thought it only fair that the players decide if they wanted Kemer to join the team. With a record of 0-2, and two halfbacks out for the season, the decision was simple. We needed help if we were to beat Lawndale and win the Pioneer League. Kemer had to practice two weeks before he could play in a game; Aviation would be the first game he could see action.
Also, a personal event happened to me this week. I noticed a slight pain in my right shoulder. Nothing serious; just a feeling like a thorn was in my tee shirt. I changed tee shirts, but no improvement. I changed shoulder pads, but the irritation was still there. I decided to ignore it.
Well, with the St. Bernards' game things started falling into place. The night started out moderately foggy, and was totally socked in by the end of the game. Our offense showed much improvement over the Redondo game, by scoring two touchdowns in the first half, one by air and one on the ground. St. Bernards scored on a passing play in the 2nd quarter but that was the only touchdown given up by the defense. This was the Eagles first win of the season, and we felt so much better. We will be ready for Lawndale!
The next week's practice was filled with new optimism. We could win, and we were going to continue to win. We could feel it in our bones. Kemer was getting his second week of practice. My shoulder hurt a little more, but I was not going to miss the Lawndale game. We won again earning our first shutout of the season; El Segundo 14, St. Monica 0. Again, the offense showed it could score on the ground or in the air. Our record was now 2-2 and we were ready for Pioneer League competition. Our league schedule didn't give us any additional time for improvement. We were going to face last year's number one and number two teams during the first two weeks of the regular season.
Preparation for the Aviation game was filled with enthusiasm; we would have a new running back to help out the offense. Kemer was a terrific athlete with good speed; he would give us something we had been lacking in the first four games. By this week I knew something was wrong with my shoulder; it hurt all the time. I talked to Dr. McElhenney about it and he decided to take x-rays. He laid me down on a table to perform the x-ray, and the results looked good; nothing wrong. But, since the shoulder was bothering me, maybe a shot of cortisone would strengthen it. Hey, what the heck. I've got to play against Lawndale. I've got to put another big hit on Battle. The Aviation game shocked the South Bay. The defense recorded its second shutout in as many games, and the offense scored 31 points! Kemer was the leading rusher and had an 80 yard punt return for a touchdown. Smith, Dobos, and Brown all scored too. No passing TDs, but several good completions to Sligar and Goetz. With this victory we were not going to surprise Lawndale. They would be ready for us and we were ready for them.
Another good week of practice followed. The whole town was "buzzing". Everyone in school knew what was coming. Everyone in the town knew what was coming. It was Homecoming. It was the Lawndale game. Mike Battle was coming back. It doesn't get any bigger than this. I went to see Dr. McElhenney again, and got another cortisone shot. Damn, they hurt. He also recommended that I wear my right arm in a sling when not on the football field to lessen the tension on the shoulder.
Usually after Thursday's practice we were issued our game jerseys so we could wear them to school on Friday; get the team and the school pumped up. Well, on this particular Thursday afternoon coach told us the jerseys had to be picked up on Friday morning in the Home Economics classroom. On Friday morning when we picked up our game jerseys they had been altered. They had the words "BEAT LAWNDALE" sewn onto the shoulder pad area of each jersey. This was way cool!
We were really pumped up now. We had a pep rally scheduled that day on the football field. The Homecoming King and Queen candidates would drive around the field in convertibles. Coach Hartman would give a speech to the entire student body about how our football team was going to play our hearts out, and beat Lawndale on the road to the Pioneer League championship. What a day!
The butterflies in my stomach had been running rampant all day. We finally got to the big moment we all had been waiting for; the showdown with Lawndale and Mike Battle. I had been visualizing in my mind for months how I would duplicate the big hit I had put on Battle the previous year in practice. I knew I'd get my chance. I just didn't know when. I got my chance on the opening kickoff. I had the first shot at Battle as he returned the kickoff. I missed him. I ended up eating dirt. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Damn! Our defense established itself from the beginning. Battle was at his best, picking up yards at will, but we always shutdown their offense after a few first downs. Our defensive line was absolutely awesome. Appleby, Brown, Yasin, Tyler, Black, and Sligar were relentless. Battle couldn't get a pass off to save his life. He would pick up yards on a run, and then give them right back while attempting to pass. He would never complete a pass the entire game. Unfortunately for me Battle was beating me consistently. Oh, I hit him a couple of times, but mostly I was picking blades of grass out of my helmet after I missed him.
Kemer scored in the first quarter on a punt return, but it was called back because of a roughing the kicker penalty. Now from a totally unbiased El Segundo point of view, there was no penalty. Battle was the punter and he faked like he had been hit; the referee bought into his act, negating the touchdown. One of many controversial calls we would see in this game. Lawndale's defense was almost as strong as ours. But in the 2nd quarter we sustained a drive that would give us the first points of the game. David Dobos concluded the drive with a dive into the end zone. Jim Spence kicked the extra point and this "could" be the deciding factor.
The kickoff following our touchdown will be a play I will never forget. We kicked off, Battle returned the kick, and I tried to get to him again. Tom Duncan of Lawndale came out of nowhere and hit me on top of the right shoulder. I thought I was going to die. It felt like someone had taken a knife and driven it through my shoulder joint. I somehow made it through the next defensive series before the first half ended; El Segundo 7, Lawndale 0. I grabbed Dr. McElhenney and told him I was hurting. He said he'd fix me right up. So, while the team was in the football locker room with Coaches Hartman and Greeley, I was in the gymnasium locker room with Dr. McElhenney. He told me he had a painkiller that would get me through the 2nd half. He gave me three shots, and helped me put my shoulder pads and jersey back on. The shots never took away the pain. The 2nd half would be very painful.
In the 3rd quarter Lawndale would mount a drive that allowed Battle to score from 18 yards out. I believe I made all the right "reads" on the play, but Battle ended up scoring on my side of the field. If I wasn't so damn slow, I might have gotten over there in time to help my teammates. The score was now 7-6, with the extra point attempt coming up. On this play I had the chance I needed to redeem myself. Lawndale decided to run the ball for the extra point. They handed off to Lee Leiataua, and he was running between the guard and tackle, coming my way. I met him at the line of scrimmage. I stuck him, placing my facemask right into the middle of his numbers. He slid to his left, the left side of my helmet dropped down to his midsection while I kept my head in front of his body. I tried to wrap him up. My left arm wrapped around his backside, but my right arm wouldn't move; it was dead. By this time Leiataua had picked up a yard, and was inching closer to the goal as I tried to complete the tackle. We both started to fall, and we hit the ground. I couldn't tell where he landed, but it was close to the goal line. As I looked up from the ground I could see the referee running toward us; he was not signaling. Had Leiataua fallen into the end zone or bounced into the end zone? We were both on the ground waiting for the call; the call went El Segundo's way. Lawndale had missed the extra point attempt. Lawndale instantly started complaining that Leiataua had made it; the referee disagreed. On the other hand El Segundo started celebrating while running off the field; we didn't want to do anything that would make the referee change his mind. The score was now 7-6. Could we hold on?
In the 4th quarter I would get a rare opportunity; a chance to carry the ball. During previous games I usually played a down or two on offense; sometimes at wingback, and sometimes at fullback. Well, this particular game coach sent me in at fullback; Dobos and Baer must been getting some equipment worked on or getting something taped. I figured I'd go in, throw a couple of blocks, and come back out; my usual scenario. For some reason Smith called my number. Well, Marc and I had been friends since the 2nd grade, but this is no time for friendly favors. The play was a 31 dive; fullback runs through the "one" hole. The only problem was my right arm was dead; I couldn't take a handoff correctly. Smith took the snap, slid to his left, and handed the ball to me. My arms had to form a basket because I couldn't raise the right arm; the ball instantly started jiggling around. The offensive line had created a hole you could drive a Mack truck through. If there hadn't been this monstrous hole and I had been hit, I surely would have lost the ball. As it was, I got control of the ball before I was hit, and in the process picked up 5 yards. I was never so happy to get away from that offensive position in my life. I could have fumbled and cost us the game. Thanks Marc.
The remainder of the game our defense showed its determination. We would bend, but we would not break. The defensive line would chase Battle over every inch of that field. He could not get a pass off to save his life (or the game). Again, I had a chance to be a heel or a hero, but ended up being neither. We were getting down to the last minutes of the game. Battle dropped back to pass (this guy never gives up, does he). Tom Duncan had entered my zone. Now at 5'7" and not really the best athlete on the team, I was a little nervous trying to defend against this 6'5" All-League wide receiver, and the center on the Lawndale basketball team. As is par for the course our defensive line was chasing Battle all over the field. Mike finally saw Duncan, tried to throw the ball to him, but got clobbered in the process. Now the ball was coming toward us. Duncan tried to reverse direction and I did the same. I had a better shot at the ball than he did. But with my great athletic ability I fell flat on my face, missing the ball as it bounced on the ground inches in front of me. I could have been a hero if I weren't such a klutz. Well, if anybody was going to be a hero in this game it had to be a defensive lineman; they had done one hell of a job all night. A couple of plays later the defensive line produced another "play of the game". Battle tried to pass (I told you he never gives up), the entire defensive line was chasing him, Jerry Filson who had stunted from his safety position hit Battle. The ball goes flying and the race is on. Now as I watched this from my safety position I saw all the Lawndale "speedsters" trying to beat Donny Appleby to the ball. Appleby was like a flash of lightening; he grabbed the football first. Lawndale tried to wrestle it away from him, but it wasn't going to happen. Smith ran out the clock. El Segundo won, 7-6. We did what we said we were going to do. "BEAT LAWNDALE".
As the gun sounded our team mobbed the field. I started walking toward Battle. He was not real happy and initially did not want to shake hands with his old teammates. His coach grabbed him, talked to him for a second, and then Mike decided to come back to congratulate us. I was the first to get to him; he congratulated me and told me he'd pay me when he could. I let him know he played his usual excellent game, and I didn't want his money; I was happy just to have won.
In the locker room I needed help getting my uniform off. The right arm was pretty useless. After my shower I got dressed and immediately put on the sling; I was in a great deal of pain. I must have attended the after game dance in the cafeteria, but I can't remember. Kenny Wilson and I went to Robb's afterward to get something to eat. We walked into the restaurant and there at a corner booth was Battle with Charlie Atchison and Bill Turner, Mike's teammates from his sophomore year; Kenny and I joined them. They all congratulated Kenny and me, and told us how surprised they were that we pulled it off. We ordered our food and spent some time talking about the game. I was not feeling too good so I ended up giving my hamburger to Wilson; I think he'd rather have had a package of Oreos. Well, as Yogi Berra once said, "It's not over, til it's over". Lennox won again and we were still tied for first place; got to beat them. We had our chance the following week. Practice didn't go too well for me that week, even though I was emotionally on cloud nine.
On Thursday Coach Hartman told me he'd made an appointment for me to see Dr. Martin Blazina, an orthopedic specialist and the UCLA team physician. Friday afternoon since there was no practice Jeff Peterson drove me up to UCLA. Dr. Blazina took a look at my shoulder and decided to x-ray it. He took the x-ray while I'm standing up, holding a 5 lbs. weight in my right hand. The shoulder was definitely separated with the possibility of broken bones and ligament damage. He'd have to operate to determine how much damage. Well, I really didn't want to interrupt this season. I asked him if I could finish the season, then get the operation. He said it wasn't a good idea. I told him I probably couldn't make it worse, so why not finish the season. He didn't tell me I couldn't play; he just recommended that I didn't.
Jeff and I drove back to school and I told Coach Hartman the news. The shoulder was injured, I needed an operation, but I can finish the season. We discussed the matter, coach and I didn't exactly agree about when the operations should take place, but I think he got tired of arguing with me; "You can suit up". Of course, I thought he was going to let me finish the season. Yea, right! I didn't have a doctor's written release, so I was not going to play; an operation was my only option.
The game with Lennox was somewhat of a letdown from the Lawndale game, but we were still firing on all cylinders from the beginning. The offense was marching the ball up and down the field with great regularity. The defense was as solid as ever. Two turnovers by our offense, however, prevented us from scoring two more touchdowns, and gave the Lancers good field position. The score probably should have been 26-0, but instead we won 13-7. We now owned first place in the Pioneer League all by ourselves!
My surgery was scheduled for the following Friday. I would miss the next two games. The next game with Torrance would be an easy victory, 33-6, but our running back jinx would continue to haunt us; Kemer Brett broke his leg. I got the bad news from my parents the next day at the hospital. My operation had been a success. We knew the shoulder was separated, but the operation revealed that the clavicle had been broken and a ligament had been destroyed. Dr. Blazina removed about an inch of the clavicle, and transplanted a ligament from my armpit area to my shoulder. This was all held together by two stainless steel pins and a whole bunch of stitches. The worst part of the whole operation was the withdrawal from the sodium pentothal. I couldn't keep any food or liquid down for about a day; not fun.
Dr. Blazina didn't want me out of the house for another week after I left the hospital, so I missed the West Torrance game also. This game didn't go so well in the 1st half, and I believe Coach Hartman had to verbally abuse the team at halftime to get them going in the 2nd half. My parents attended the game and came back and gave me the gory details after it was over. My dad always enjoyed watching Benny Powell play cornerback. He told me how Benny was getting burned the 1st half, but my dad could tell he was learning from his mistakes. Anyway, the 2nd half was a different story. The offense started to work, the defense started to work, and Benny started to work; one PBU and two INTs, one returned for a touchdown. El Segundo completed the season with a perfect Pioneer League record of 5-0, beating West Torrance by the score 25-14.