by Neil Hayes
“Because we’re not getting off the ball and hitting anybody!” Eidson shouts from across the room. “It’s obvious.”
Ladouceur ignores his longtime assistant. He is tinkering with blocking assignments when Eidson erupts again.
“We’ve played horrible and we’re still shutting them out,” he tells his defense. “Come on, I know we don’t see this offense often, but we’ve seen it for an entire half. I shouldn’t be the only one who’s frustrated here.”
Eidson’s temperament is in stark contrast to the night before, when he stood in front of players and spoke softly and from the heart:
The thing I liked about the prayer service today is I think you truly understood what the program is about, especially you seniors. This program is not about what you do on the football field. It’s about the journey you take. The game is secondary to what goes on throughout the whole process. That’s a very important lesson. I know what that’s like. I was a very average athlete in high school. That was OK. For me it was about having an experience with my friends and doing something that I knew brought out the best in me. My self-esteem was never tied up in what kind of player I was. I learned that at a young age. My self-esteem was tied up in what kind of person I was. It was a gift I had when I was younger, and it stuck with me. Hopefully, it will stick with you, too.
As you guys talk about tomorrow night’s game and what it means to you, don’t talk about how you could’ve done this or that. I personally believe that none of you went downhill at De La Salle. I truly believe you all worked as hard as you could and really maxed out. You had some plays here and there where you could’ve done better, but you guys came along great. You reached your ability. Maybe you wanted to be better and do this or that, but hopefully that doesn’t mean your experience has been negative. You’ve all done as much as you could do to be the best you could be, and that’s what life’s about. That’s the type of life lesson that you will carry with you. Like Coach said, hopefully this will not be the highlight of your life. I don’t want anyone in this program saying the greatest time of my life was when I was seventeen years old. If that’s true, you’ve missed the point of this program.
John Chan doesn’t need to be told that he’s having the worst game of his career in his final home game. He was responsible for the first holding penalty and struggled throughout the first half.
Drew runs off left tackle on the first drive of the next series and is knocked back three yards after a loud collision with an Ygnacio Valley defender. He miraculously manages to keep his feet, spins away, and sprints down the sideline for what would’ve been a 50-yard touchdown run if it weren’t for another holding penalty on Chan.
“I love watching the JV game before our game in the afternoon, and watching the sun go down and the lights come up,” Chan said the night before. “But I could care less where I’m playing as long as I’m playing for my teammates, my friends, for people who work as hard as we have.”
Cecil throws a 41-yard touchdown pass to Colvin to make it 28–0 early in the fourth quarter. The Ygnacio Valley offense has picked up only one first down in the second half when Damon Jenkins hammers a receiver to the ground after a short gain.
It’s easy to forget how good Jenkins is because opponents rarely throw to his side of the field. They prefer to test junior cornerback Willie Glasper, who has made them pay with four interceptions this season.
Then Jenkins steps up and makes a play, like the 99-yard interception return against Pittsburg, or a big hit, like the stunning fumble-inducing blow he delivered against St. Louis, and you are reminded why Ladouceur calls him the best cornerback in school history.
The last game at Owen Owens Field is meaningful to Jenkins because his eight-year-old half-brother is in attendance. Jenkins puts an immense amount of pressure on himself to perform well when the boy is watching because he knows how much his brother looks up to him.
Jenkins is guarded outside his circle of friends, which made what he said the night before at the team meeting resonate throughout the garage.
“Growing up in Oakland I had my favorite coaches, but this group of coaches is my favorite,” he said. “I really don’t have a father figure in my life. I look at this coaching staff as father figures because I’ve learned so much from each one of you guys.”
Mark Panella spoke when Jenkins was through.
“When I graduated and came back and had the opportunity to coach, it wasn’t about the money. What Damon had to say, that validates it for me. That’s why I make the sacrifice. That’s why I coach.”
Aliotti runs up and down the sideline early in the fourth quarter, trying to find seniors who haven’t played yet.
Being a backup at De La Salle has its advantages. The reserves take a beating playing against the first-team offense and defense during the week, but they get more playing time than they would at most schools because De La Salle games are often blowouts by halftime.
Some of the more heartfelt sentiments expressed during Thursday night’s meeting came from players who rarely take the field until midway through the third quarter, after the game has been decided.
Matteo Richie fractured his skull in a bicycle accident in the seventh grade. When he received a settlement from the manufacturer he told his parents he would pay his own tuition during his senior year.
An undersized offensive and defensive lineman, Richie got beat up daily in practice during his junior year and seriously considered dropping out of the football program rather than endure another season.
“Then I thought about who I was becoming because of it,” he said. “I was a jerk when I was a freshman. I wasn’t a good person at all. My character has changed, and I realized it was a direct result of the football program. I saw the benefits and the good that has come out of it and decided to stick it out, and I’m so glad I did.…”
“Last year at this time I was real happy because the only thing that was driving me was that the season was almost over,” said backup defensive back Chris Bizot, who had one goal for the 2002 season: to earn a Cobra Corps T-shirt for special teams play. He was awarded one after his performance against Liberty. “I felt like an outsider. I didn’t have any friends on the team. I feel totally different this year. I just want you guys to know that even though I don’t play a lot, I couldn’t be happier about my role on this team, and there’s no one in this room I don’t consider a friend.”
Fittingly, tonight’s game ends with two more big plays from seniors. Aharon Bradley, whose downfield blocks contributed to two long touchdowns in the Long Beach Poly game, scoops up a fumble and returns it 30 yards for a touchdown. Then cornerback Dan Fujimoto gets his first career interception with nine seconds left and is mobbed by his teammates on the sideline as parents chant “FU-JI! FU-JI!” from the stands.
Players from both teams pose for pictures with their parents on the field after De La Salle’s 35–0 win.
“I hate losing here,” one Ygnacio Valley player tells a teammate. “Losing here is the worst, and it happens every goddamn time.”
Not every senior has made his final game at Owen Owens Field memorable. Chan is distraught on the sideline in the fourth quarter, his helmet tipped back on his head and his hands on his hips.
“When you’re responsible for 35 yards in penalties and you almost get your quarterback killed, it doesn’t feel so good,” he says.
But as Ladouceur said in his summation the night before, there’s something that can be learned from that as well.
Some of the best lessons we learn in life are through adversity and disappointment. At least that’s how it’s been in my life. You don’t have to be crossing the goal line all the time to learn and feel value, especially to learn about yourself. The most I learned about myself is when things were falling apart. So when you guys talk about your season not working out the way you wanted it to, don’t piss and moan about it; look for the lesson in it. How do you grow from that? That’s when you become a real man. When you’re riding the
crest of the wave and you’re having a great time, that’s fun, that’s great. But when shit starts falling apart on you and things don’t work out like you want, that’s your opportunity to really become a man. You can’t be a little boy to do it. I just want to reiterate: follow through with what you say you are and what I believe you are. What you said tonight was inspiring. The way you’ve been practicing has been inspiring. The way you’re coming together as a team is inspiring. Follow it through. Finish it right.
23
1992 THE STREAK BEGINS
The record books indicate that the greatest winning streak in football history began with a 34–14 season-opening victory over Merced High School in 1992. But the truth is, The Streak was born during a confrontation in the weight room during a suffocating summer day several months after the loss to Pittsburg in 1991.
Juniors Alli Abrew, who threw the game-clinching interception during Pittsburg’s 35–27 upset victory in the 1991 NCS championship game, and running back Patrick Walsh, who couldn’t hang on for a game-saving tackle, were determined to learn from mistakes made the year before.
Bob Ladouceur re-evaluated the program. He realized that he had been too lax, allowing players to come out late and coaches to leave early. From that point on he demanded total commitment from everyone. They owed one another that.
Offensive line coach Steve Alexakos introduced his own high level of accountability into the program. He was brought up from the JV staff midway through the 1991 season. His first words after the loss to Pittsburg were a rallying cry for the program:
“Monday, we go back to work,” he said.
It was the end of a streak and the beginning of “The Streak.” It was a painful loss, sure, but it also was an awakening.
“That game was a defining moment in our program’s history,” Ladouceur says. “The kids showed a tremendous amount of character after that game. It was a turning point for our program.”
Players already had made “Leave No Doubt” their rallying cry for the upcoming season. They took it upon themselves to ratchet up the intensity during off-season workouts, pushing one another beyond established limits, calling one another out when someone skipped a repetition in the weight room or coasted during sprints.
Their dedication extended beyond the field. Team leaders discovered three players violated the no-alcohol policy over the summer and were told to either match their teammates’ commitment level or leave the team.
Ladouceur didn’t know about the forced resignations until later.
“That was a huge turning point,” Patrick Walsh recalls. “That was when the team finally took itself over. It has been on automatic pilot ever since. Coach Lad is almost like a guidance counselor.”
Quarterback Alli Abrew blamed the loss to Pittsburg the previous year on his interception and fumble. He vowed to redeem himself. Walsh was just as devout. Without a size advantage, he propelled himself over and around would-be tacklers with the sheer force of his indomitable will. He rushed for 2,032 yards and thirty-eight touchdowns during his senior season and embodied the ascendant spirit of the program.
The thirty-four points the Spartans put up in their season opener was the fewest they would score in any game all season. They went on a rampage through the regular season, outscoring opponents by an average of 50–8, including a resounding 44–7 victory over the Pittsburg team that ended their 34-game win streak the year before.
In that game Walsh turned in one of the most dominant individual performances in De La Salle history. A standing-room-only crowd filled Owen Owens Field. Fans stood twelve deep in the end zones. They watched Walsh rush for touchdowns of 77, 35, and 20 yards, catch a 51-yard touchdown pass from Abrew, and throw a 62-yard touchdown pass.
He finished with 224 rushing yards on fourteen carries, four touchdowns, one touchdown pass, and 360 yards of total offense.
“That was an angry team,” Eidson remembers. “Every game was a personal affront to them. We kept waiting for them to settle down and they never did. We’ve never had a team like that. Every game really mattered.”
Walsh taped newspaper articles above his bed heralding Pittsburg’s upset victory the year before. Every night for a year he heard those articles rustling in the breeze from the ceiling fan. It made it hard to sleep but he wanted to remind himself of that loss every night before he went to bed.
He told his teammates this story during the meeting the night before the rematch with Pittsburg in the 1992 NCS championship game, and it has been passed down ever since.
“Patrick Walsh is the most passionate person I have ever met, and he was able to channel that tremendous passion into high school football like nobody I’ve ever seen,” says Tyler Scott, a senior wide receiver on the 1991 team that lost to Pittsburg.
It wasn’t until after the Spartans defeated the Pirates 41–6 the following day that Walsh took the articles down and slept peacefully.
“That team taught me about the program,” said Mike Blasquez, who was a first-year trainer in 1992. “It wasn’t like they lost a game and had to work harder. It wasn’t as simple as that. They examined the relationships and the intangibles that would make them a tighter group. They talked about how the seniors the year before didn’t love each other and didn’t watch each other’s backs and how that was the reason they had lost. They wouldn’t let that happen. They were going to do everything right. It goes back to Bob’s initial dream: to create a program that teaches life skills at all costs, that teaches players how to do things right at all costs. It had nothing to do with football.”
That team set the standard for every De La Salle team since. Juniors on the 1992 team saw the personal accountability that seniors demanded and followed their example. It became less of a coach-driven program and more of player-driven program.
“People always wonder what will happen when De La Salle finally loses,” Walsh says. “I know what will happen. It will be a rebirth.”
★ ★ ★
In only a handful of games has The Streak been in serious jeopardy. Only once could it be legitimately suggested that fate intervened.
The Streak was still in its infancy when De La Salle traveled to Pittsburg for the sixth game of the 1993 season. The crowd of 6,500 that packed Pirate Stadium was delirious late in the fourth quarter.
Pitt coach Herc Pardi was bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, head down, praying, during the final minute of regulation.
The Pirates scored on a two-point conversion with forty-five seconds left to give Pittsburg a 21–20 advantage.
“I remember talking to God after we scored,” Pardi recalls. “That’s the wrong person to talk to when you’re playing a Catholic school.”
The crowd began celebrating what would surely be Pittsburg’s second win over the Spartans in three years. De La Salle fans were filing out of the stadium.
“The game was over,” remembers Pittsburg quarterback Cy Simonton. “They were a running team. If they put the ball in the air, we had the athletes to knock it down so they couldn’t score. There was no way they were going to beat us.”
There were twenty-three seconds left after quarterback Mike Bastianelli completed a 16-yard pass to the Pittsburg 46.
Bastianelli, who was also the team’s kicker, rolled out left on the next play, just hoping to throw a safe pass to the flat to move that much closer to field-goal range.
The Pittsburg defense double-covered the running back in the flat, forcing Bastianelli to search for a secondary receiver. He found tight end Nate Geldermann running a deep drag pattern over the middle. Geldermann was a good athlete but not a big-play threat. Bastianelli knew it could be a big gain but worried about the clock. Geldermann would catch the ball in the middle of the field. It would be difficult to get out of bounds.
Bastianelli let the ball fly, hoping he hadn’t made a game-ending mistake.
Geldermann made the catch at the 35 and swerved at the last moment to avoid a head-hunting Pittsburg defender. They were screaming at
him to get out of bounds on the De La Salle sideline. When he veered toward the left sideline they started jumping up and down, encouraging him to keep running for the end zone.
Another defender dove at his feet at the 10 but Geldermann stepped out of the tackle. When he reached the end zone after a 46-yard play, De La Salle had a 26–21 lead with 11 seconds left and the celebratory atmosphere had been replaced by stunned silence.
“Everything about De La Salle football is so precise that nothing is left to luck,” says De La Salle tight end Tony Lupoi said. “But that play right there, it seems like somebody was guiding us along.”
“They practice that play every day,” Pardi said of what was by far the most gut-wrenching loss of his career. “That wasn’t luck.”
The Pittsburg and De La Salle coaching staffs were the only ones who recognized the irony amid all the heartbreak and jubilation.
The winning touchdown had been scored on the same play Ladouceur had called in 1991 when Abrew’s pass, intended for tight end Andrew Freeman, was intercepted by Percy McGee and returned 79 yards for a touchdown that provided the winning margin in Pittsburg’s 35–27 victory.
“It was a very, very quiet bus ride home,” Lupoi said of the trip back to Concord after the last-second win in 1993. “Most teams would celebrate a victory like that. We’re not most teams. That was a bruise. To put yourself in a situation where you have to win in the last minute meant so much had gone wrong there was nothing to say.”
★ ★ ★
The Streak isn’t a string of unparalleled and glorious triumphs, immune to failure or impervious to human tragedy. There have been losses along the way—terrible heart-wrenching losses far from the field.
The story of the Vontoure brothers is the most tragic tale in school history. Chris and Anthony Vontoure were two of the best athletes to play for Ladouceur. But the story doesn’t begin with Anthony, or even Chris, the older brother he adored. It begins with Mike Jr., the oldest of the three Vontoure boys.