When the Game Stands Tall, Special Movie Edition

by Neil Hayes

  John Chan played so well in the playoffs, the memory of his disappointing performance in the regular-season finale had quickly faded. Few had ever taken their De La Salle careers as seriously as he did. It frightened him, wondering how he would fill the void.

  He and Cole Smith are trying to secure appointments to the Naval Academy. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like the perfect fit. The discipline, the academics, the demands of being a plebe—it’s exactly the type of challenge that would help replace De La Salle football.

  “I want to say something about Sam Cheatham,” Chan says, referring to San Leandro’s standout wide receiver and defensive back. He relates a story.

  Brendan Ottoboni, Gino’s older brother, was running a pass route across the middle in the previous year’s championship game against San Leandro. He leaped high in the air to make the catch. Cheatham timed his hit perfectly, putting his shoulder right on Brendan’s exposed midsection. It was a clean hit, but brutal.

  Brendan spent four days in the hospital with internal bleeding.

  “When Brendan rolled over and threw up after the hit, I heard a cheer. Not a huge roar but a cheer, and that pissed me off,” Chan says. “I remember that. What brought it up is I was talking to Nick Holtz, and Nick and Brendan go to Colorado together, and Colorado has been recruiting Sam Cheatham. Cheatham was on a recruiting trip there earlier this year and had a highlight film. They were showing it in the training room and they saw Brendan’s hit. Of course he had that on his highlight film. But he also had Brendan throwing up. Not that he’s a horrible person for that, but it pisses me off because I’m Brendan’s friend. If I was a DB tomorrow I’d shut that guy down because he’s gotten on us the past two years. I’ve got my own problems to worry about. I didn’t play great last year. It’s not my place, but I’m asking you DBs to shut that guy down. Do it for Brendan, too.”

  “I’ve got something to add to that,” Ladouceur says, sitting up in his chair. “In all the films I’ve watched of that guy, he comes up like a shot, head down, full-speed into runners. You offensive linemen can take care of that yourself. I don’t want you head-hunting the guy, but he’s a touchdown alley guy. A good touchdown alley target is that guy. I’m not telling you to get revenge. I’d never tell you to do that. But he’s a good target. He comes in to hurt people. He plays the game hard. No doubt about it. I’m not saying he’s cheap or dirty or anything, but that’s one guy you want to keep off your runners. I was going to say that before you mentioned it. Not about Brendan, but I don’t like to see guys flying in and putting hats on our runners. That’s part of your assignment tomorrow. Touchdown alley blocks mean taking out those secondary guys, too, because they come up and hit.”

  Chris Wilhelmy’s season hasn’t turned out the way he imagined it would. Team physician Dr. Wilhelmy’s son expected to be a key contributor. Instead he has been sidelined for much of the season with various injuries. He worked hard to make it back before the end of the season. Now the season is ending when his was just beginning.

  Ladouceur gave seniors a personal letter during chapel service earlier that afternoon. Wilhelmy couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “When Coach handed out his letter today, it really affected me,” he says, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I was touched by it. I was looking at all those names on the top and I knew I would remember them for the rest of my life. I’ll always keep it so I can look at it because I know those people care about me. Tomorrow night we’re going to be playing for the person next to us, but I’m going to give it my all for every senior and every junior, too, because I want to end my season like Coach said. I want to walk off that field knowing I can look the other seniors in the eye for the rest of my life and we can say, ‘We did that together. We were together that night. We were together for that whole season.’ ”

  “I appreciate that,” Ladouceur says. “That’s heartfelt. I hope everybody feels this way, because this team is over in twenty-four hours. This team disbands in one more day. It’s sad and it made me sad today. I was going around hugging you seniors today in chapel and it was difficult for me, but in a good way. Life goes on and we have to push forward, but when I come back tomorrow I want to have the job done, completed. I just don’t want to have any blot on what you guys have done. I have a feeling you’re going to go out there and fight for each other because that’s what you have become. Like I said, in twenty-four hours this team will cease to exist. The only thing that will live is our memories. Our bonds will always be there, but we will not function as a team anymore. That’s why you should be really jacked for tomorrow.”

  The coaches have spoken. The players have spoken. A meal has been consumed and they have methodically gone over the offensive and defensive checklists, just like they have before every game.

  But something has been left unsaid. Everybody is hesitant to fold up their chairs and disappear into the night.

  “You know my personality,” Eidson says softly. “I’m not a quiet person. But I really believe this has been my quietest year.…”

  “Yeah, right,” Geldermann snorts.

  “Well, I guess I am who I am,” Eidson says, resigned. “Every day I put my four-year-old daughter in the car and I say, ‘Hanna, you don’t have to yell.’ Then I realize it’s God getting back at me.”

  The room fills with laughter.

  Eidson has found himself pondering another question. He never imagined it would come to this when the season started, but twelve weeks of conclusive evidence have convinced him otherwise.

  This is by far the best secondary in school history. Not even St. Louis and Long Beach Poly were able to throw against Damon Jenkins, Matt Kavanaugh, Jackie Bates, and Willie Glasper this season. The front seven had been solid all season, making this one of the most balanced defenses in school history. Considering the caliber of competition the Spartans faced, it also has been one of the best.

  “You guys who played defense this year,” Eidson says after the laughter subsides. “You caught the attention of Spartan faithful as a very special group. If you finish this season the way you can, I’ll be able to say this is one of the best defensive groups I’ve had. It’s up to you. It won’t do anything for me. I don’t care if people consider me a genius. I’m not looking to move up the ladder. It’s all for you.”

  Ladouceur tells his assistants not to ramble when they talk to the team. Eidson is rambling now, but nobody minds.

  “We always talk about retiring,” he says. “We’ve been talking about that for ten years, but teams like this keep bringing us back. Lighting that victory cigar on the beach in Hawaii and watching you guys hit the waves at midnight, what a great memory. That’s something I’ll never forget. I want to thank you guys for that.”

  Eidson sits down.

  “If you go through life and get to work side by side with your best friends, consider yourself lucky,” Ladouceur says. “Not many people get to do that. I’ve been coaching for twenty-four years but I’ve never said ‘I’m going to work.’ I say ‘I’m going to school,’ because I don’t consider what I do here work. I don’t know why. I haven’t thought that out yet. Maybe it’s because I’m still learning about myself, too.”

  A streetlight is out and it’s very dark when players file out the door. Erik Sandie talks to a teammate as he walks down the sidewalk toward his truck.

  “Oh, dude, I thought I lost my letter,” he says.

  “What letter?” a voice in the dark asks.

  “My letter from Coach Lad,” Sandie says as he opens the door to his truck, the dome light illuminating his features. “I would’ve never forgiven myself if I had lost the letter from Coach Lad.”

  ★ ★ ★

  Ladouceur gave his seniors the following letter during the final chapel service earlier that afternoon. He also chose the music, selecting “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart.

  12–06–02

  To: Chris W., Britt, Chris B., D. Fuji, Matt K., Gino,
Maurice, De’Montae, Damon, Aaron, Ian, Carlo, Chris M., Cole, Erich, John C., Eric L., Brad, Ryan, Sean, Joe, Erik S., Garth, Matteo, Tony.

  I want to thank you for the opportunity to coach you through your varsity football days at De La Salle. My association with you has been a positive experience for me that will stay with me for the rest of my life. You have provided me with some wonderful memories that I know I will look back on with pride—and smile.

  I know you have all improved as football players because I have witnessed the growth. However, this is not what is most important to me. What is my hope and dream is that you have all improved and grown as human beings through your experiences at De La Salle. I believe that you have, but only “the man in the glass” knows for sure.

  You all know and lived the “secrets” to De La Salle’s success-love, brotherhood, sacrifice, discipline, heart, courage, passion, honesty. These are not just “catch words” we throw around to impress others or justify our existence. We know what these mean because we created it and lived it. Understand that with that knowledge there is no turning back for us—ignorance is not an option. It is your future duty, no matter where you end up, to create the environment you have created here by bringing your best selves to the table.

  It is my hope and prayer that your future significant others (friends, wives, children, coworkers) will have the good fortune to experience you as I have. Remember to always take the difficult look at yourselves and have the courage to change, evolve and grow.

  Go out tomorrow and play like you are—dare to be you—Spartans. And as for me, you will remain “Forever Young.”

  With respect,

  Coach Lad

  ★ ★ ★

  San Leandro has established itself as the best public school program in the Bay Area during the past three seasons, each of which ended with a lopsided loss to De La Salle in the championship game. Those are the only three games the Pirates have lost during that three-year stretch; they came by a combined score of 135–40.

  If not for the Spartans, San Leandro would have a 46-game win streak of its own.

  San Leandro is ranked twenty-second in the nation by Rivals.com, making it the third nationally ranked team that De La Salle has played this season.

  The day of the 2002 North Coast Section Championship Game marks the eleventh anniversary of De La Salle’s last defeat, a 35–27 loss to Pittsburg on this same field. In many ways San Leandro resembles the 1991 Pittsburg team, especially at the skill positions.

  Three-year starting quarterback Dennis Dixon resembles a young Randall Cunningham and will go on to a prolific career at Oregon. He is the best quarterback prospect in the Bay Area. Sam Cheatham set league records for touchdown catches (thirteen), career touchdown catches (twenty-two), and single-season receiving yards (813). The Pirates’ other wide receiver, Reggie McPherson, caught five passes for 99 yards in an NCS semifinal win the week before. Cheatham and McPherson are bound for Northwestern.

  De La Salle players walk toward the field with the quiet serenity of parishioners on their way to Mass. They hold hands and walk in parallel lines, emitting a calm confidence.

  “I can’t believe the growth,” says Pat Hayes, the former JV assistant coach who helps Ladouceur in a variety of ways. “After St. Francis we thought it was over. The kids were the only ones who believed.”

  The announcement that Mater Dei has upset Long Beach Poly 21–20 in a Southern Section semifinal game prompts gasps from the crowd of 16,139. The night before, the St. Louis Crusaders defeated Castle High to capture the program’s fifteenth Hawaii state championship in seventeen years.

  Senior captains De’Montae Fitzgerald, John Chan, and Cole Smith join hands and walk to the middle of the field for the final coin toss of their high school careers.

  “Let it come to you,” secondary coach Terrell Ward tells Maurice Drew on the sideline. “Let it come to you and it will come in a big way tonight.”

  Drew lets it come to him, all right. San Leandro quarterback Dennis Dixon reads blitz, rushes his second pass attempt, and it hits Drew right in the chest. It’s bad enough to throw an interception on the first drive of the game, but now Drew, the best running back in the state, is in the open field.

  The De La Salle crowd cheers wildly while others look on in disbelief as Dixon pushes Drew out of bounds at the 1-yard line. Britt Cecil scores on a quarterback sneak on the next play.

  Less than two minutes into the game the Spartans have a 7–0 lead against the best public school team in Northern California.

  San Leandro coach Danny Calcagno is considered one of the best young coaches in the area. He looks young enough to still be playing quarterback for San Leandro, which he did in the mid-1980s. His team lost to the Spartans 54–13 in an NCS playoff game in 1984.

  He has tried various strategies against De La Salle through the years, all with limited success. The closest he ever came to being in a game against the Spartans came in 2001, when his team trailed 20–13 with 6:49 left in the third quarter. Ladouceur’s team then scored 28 unanswered points to win going away.

  Calcagno’s game plan calls for the same kind of quick, precise passes that allowed Pittsburg to control the ball for much of the third quarter of their upset victory over De La Salle in 1991. With Dixon, Cheatham, and McPherson, he has the personnel for it.

  Dixon rolls right and throws a strike to a well-covered McPherson for a 10-yard gain on the first play of San Leandro’s second possession. A run on second down gains four yards before Dixon completes a 16-yard pass over the middle, prompting the San Leandro fans to wave their Pirate flags. The drive stalls after an incompletion on third down near midfield.

  “They’re going for it, Terry!” Ladouceur yells.

  “No, they’re not! This is how they punt!” Eidson shouts impatiently. Sure enough, at the last possible moment, Calcagno rushes his offense off the field and his punt team comes running on.

  De La Salle offensive players are in the huddle, waiting for a penalty to be marked off, when they notice that Cole Smith can barely stand.

  Ladouceur believes that Smith has come to epitomize the program. He made himself into a superb high school football player, but football doesn’t define him.

  Smith suffered his first concussion against St. Louis. His second was the result of a head-to-head collision on the first drive of the championship game. It’s only midway through the first quarter, the outcome still very much in doubt, but Cole Smith’s high school football career is over. He’s the only one who doesn’t know it.

  He has no memory of the hit or why he insisted on staying in the game when he was obviously woozy. He won’t even remember sitting on the bench, trembling and sobbing, as his teammates approach one by one to hug and comfort him throughout the first half.

  Drew runs off left tackle for 37 yards and a touchdown on the next play, rendering the penalty moot and giving De La Salle a 14–0 advantage when the first quarter ends.

  That’s when it becomes official, even though De La Salle’s defensive players are unaware of it. The defense has not allowed an opponent to score a first-quarter touchdown all season—quite an accomplishment considering that St. Louis, Long Beach Poly, and San Leandro all feature high-powered offenses.

  Drew runs to the San Leandro 4-yard line before Jackie Bates walks into the end zone behind a wall of green. Binswanger’s extra point attempt is blocked, making it 20–0 with 10:27 left before halftime.

  Drew began his varsity career with a four-touchdown performance in the 2001 Long Beach Poly game and is ending it with a similarly dominant performance. The scholarship offers are pouring in: USC, UCLA, Cal, Colorado, and Wisconsin are among the schools bidding for his services. He will finish the season with 1,459 yards and twenty-six touchdowns—including six kickoffs or punts returned for scores. He’s a good enough defender that USC is interested in him as a safety.

  He sweeps the left side on third-and-3 from the De La Salle 27, patiently waiting for five eager blockers to form a w
all in front of him. He gains 40 yards to set up a 24-yard run by Bates that makes the score 28–0 with exactly three minutes left before halftime.

  San Leandro needs to put together a drive in the final 2:53 if it hopes to carry any momentum into the locker room at halftime. Dixon is trying to set up a screen pass when he sees Sandie burst through the line and come after him.

  Kyle Balough sheds his man and sprints toward Dixon. When he recognizes the screen, he stops, just as he has been taught to do.

  Dixon tries to flip the ball over Sandie. Balough reaches up and makes the interception. The De La Salle crowd comes alive as Balough rambles 27 yards for a touchdown and a commanding 35–0 lead.

  “Now that’s how you play the screen!” a delighted Geldermann shouts as he hurries down the sideline to congratulate Balough, who is being mobbed by his teammates in the end zone.

  Offensive and defensive players are on opposite sides of the locker room while making adjustments at halftime.

  “This is a good lesson for you juniors,” Eidson says. “If we check out of this defense.…”

  “Parker, what do you see on the load?” Ladouceur asks. “Is that guy in a six?”

  “We’re pretty much shutting down their running game,” Eidson says. “They’ve gotten some yards. They’re not 12–0 for nothing.”

  The strategy sessions have ended when Geldermann walks up to Cole Smith, who is still suffering from the effects of his concussion, and flips him the bird.

  “Hey, Cole, how many fingers?” he asks, grinning. Cole laughs.

  “Just so you know, in all the years we’ve played in the championship games, we’ve never had a shutout,” Eidson tells players as they prepare to take the field for the second half.

  “What about my senior year?” Geldermann asks. The Spartans defeated James Logan 35–0 for the 1994 NCS 4A championship.

  “This would be the second time then,” Eidson says, correcting himself. “Sorry. My bad.”

  Smith is as wobbly as he was when he first came off the field. A teammate tries to help him up from his chair.