Hard to Handle?

It’s a tradition for me to go to one Lakewood High School home football game, and one St. Anthony High School home football game every fall. It’s a sort of ritual for me, as Lakewood is my alma mater, and St. Anthony is my Catholic prep school of choice to follow. I already did the former, and last night, I decided to do the latter.

I had to make some sacrifices though. Cashing all the pennies I had, combined with trading in my NCAA Football 2008 game for the PS2. In the end, I was having too many problems with the game, and I decided then and there that it was time for someone else to go through the same hell I went through. So I had enough for a meal at Carl’s Jr, and some money for the game and a program.

The Saints were facing the Grizzlies of Downey Calvary Chapel, and up to now, Calvary Chapel were not winning impressively, with close wins. Meanwhile, Austin Muhleka was performing very well as the signal-caller, with a 3-1 record at that time. However, I knew that it was a new game, and the last thing I wanted to watch was a massacre a la the match against the Dolphins of Chadwick. Also, the match was the last game before opening Santa Fe League play against Salesian, so it was a time to impress.

The sun began to set as the Saints went through their stretches. St. Anthony’s football field, Clark Field it was called, looked as if it didn’t miss a single beat. After so many years of use, it looked like the same St. Anthony field when I first watch my very first game at this place: rusted metal, the paint chipping off the wooden bleachers, the scoreboard still looking the same, the years indicating St. Anthony’s 12 league championships, the grass pitch, and the dirt track that surrounded the field. To the north was the Touchdown Club Snack Shack, the only concession stand in the stadium, and Guesno Field, the home to the Saints baseball team. And to the far north lay the Lakewood Center Mall. Far to the south was Long Beach City College, and to the southeast was Lakewood High School. The Lancers were in my neck of the woods, and they were facing the Cabrillo Jaguars that night.

The stadium looked like it was out of a time warp, with the wide goal posts to accommodate kickers of all skills and sizes, but that was the charm of Clark Avenue Field. It was an old lady among the football field of Long Beach, but one that never got old. The sun began to set, giving way to the cool October night as the home team, decked in their purple tops and white bottoms, went through their preliminaries.

A guy by the name of Chris came over to ask some people in the stands to help move the chains. After a small pause, I decided to go ahead and help them for the course of the game. I was decked in my purple yarn scarf, with a purple St. Anthony polo shirt, my Long Beach State rugby sweater and trademark black Beach Pride hat. Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” was blaring through the speakers. This was one of those small-school cozy-feely types of games. It was a good time to see if the Saints were in form to begin league play on the right foot. Last week, they escaped Brethren Christian, 29-26.

Also, I was still recovering from my cold, and my throat was still scratchy. I still owe it to my friend Chris. He prevented me from losing my voice a night ahead of the Beach’s volleyball match with Northridge. The lights went on. Time stood still. I closed my eyes, chain marker in hand. I recalled the days I was on the sidelines, covering junior college football games the past two seasons. I had seen it before. It was nothing new to me. But moving the chains was.

Sometimes, I would not know where to go, but as I went up and down, stretching the chains, I heard the coaches and players confer with each other. I could hear the yelling, the frustration, the elation, and the roller coaster of emotions that came from being on the sidelines. One time, I even showed my disgust at a trick play by Muhleka that went awry in a hurry.

At halftime, a young kid was wearing a Long Beach Pop Warner football jersey. “Love the LB on that sleeve,” I said.

“You do?” he said, beaming.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, it’s you, Super Fan!”

“That’s me.” I said, with my wink and salute. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Yeah!”

“All right. Enjoy the rest of the game.” And he scurried off to sit down with his parents.

I joked with Chris midway through the fourth quarter on a key Saints drive, “By now, Lakewood should have already crushed Cabrillo right now.” I talked with him and my partner Reno about my team during my senior year, that 1-8 year from hell. Sure enough, as I went on the bus back to the Westside, I walked by Hill and Santa Fe. All quiet. I thought to myself, “The Lancers must have crushed the Jaguars, as I thought.”

I was right. Lakewood won, 48-14. But the Saints made it look like I was watching Lakewood vs. Tesoro all over again. St. Anthony was stuffed in the second half, losing to Calvary Chapel, 20-14. In retrospect, I can’t deny that it wasn’t six dollars wasted. But the prospects of Brian Walsh’s Saints to break out of their 11+ year hoodoo aren’t looking too bright right now.