A day with the Eagles
Web reporter Adam Maya spent Thursday with Santa Margarita High’s football team, which entered its game against Orange Lutheran ranked No. 1 in Orange County. Maya provides an inside look at one of the top programs on a day that started with a coach’s concern and ended with optimism, even after a tough loss.
ARRIVAL
I arrive at Santa Margarita at 2 p.m. The team is at the end of a light pregame practice. Some players are involved, some are watching, some are talking about Chicken McNugget Tuesdays.
The practice ends and the players head to the locker room for a meeting. After being introduced to a few coaches, I join the team in the locker room. Somehow “uncomfortable” doesn’t quite describe the feeling of walking into a room of about 80 teenagers looking at me, wondering who I am and what I am doing here. It also doesn’t help that they’re all bigger than me. Whatever, I take a seat on the floor, and one of them offers me his chair. I decline.
“You’re living in the past!” Coach Mike Jacot tells the team. He is clearly dissatisfied with how it has practiced this week, sensing a lack of motivation after beating then-No. 1 Mater Dei this past Friday.
TEAM MEAL
We head to the dining room and pray. The tables are set and at every spot there is pasta, salad and water. Assistant coach Greg Orlando pushes his pasta and salad over to me. It is the first time I eat salad not just to appease my mother, maybe ever. Over our meal, assistant coach John Weimann jokes that Facebook is the place to be, and I’m not sure how to take that given his age. The coaches talk about the show “South Park” and about how they loved playing on Thursday nights because it meant no school on Friday. Orlando, who played at Santa Margarita in the late ’90s, then mentions how three coaches are having babies within a three-week span. “They’re living vicariously though me,” he says. “ ‘What’d you do Saturday night?’ I don’t remember. ‘Sweet.’ ” In this conversation I also learn about an ongoing game the coaches are playing. At random moments they will ask each other questions with very obvious answers, and if you’re naïve enough to answer then you’ve been Maxwell’d, named after the game’s creator, assistant coach Mike Maxwell. We finish our meal and say another prayer. A stack of cards is being passed around with the Prayer of Jabez on the front and a person’s name on the back, whom we are supposed to pray for. By the time I get a card, however, the prayer is over. Peace be with you, Erik Brown.
BREAK
The players head back to the locker room and the coaches scatter. I head to the coach’s office. Plastic wrap hangs between the offensive and defensive rooms where a door should be. Weimann tells me I don’t want to know why there isn’t a door. I want to know why there isn’t a door. “It probably isn’t appropriate for this story,” he says. There are white boards everywhere, filled with depth charts and formations. Assistant coach Scott McIntosh checks out his fantasy football league and reads aloud some rather interesting, but not suitable for publication, message board banter. There is a sign in the defensive room showing how many drives it has been since the Eagles last gave up a touchdown. Clearly, defense defines this team.
PREGAME
At about 4 p.m., we head to Brea Olinda. The offense is on one bus; the defense on another. There are four other buses taking parents and students. The atmosphere in the bus is very loose, but very quiet. There is little conversation, as several players immediately pull out earphones. On the way there, we watch highlight videos of the past couple seasons under Jacot. The first video opens with a monologue from Al Pacino in “Any Given Sunday,” and I get goose bumps. What can I say, I goose bump easily. Less than 5 miles from the school we pass two toll roads, both of which I went through on my way to the school, and I realize we’re going to go through them again on our way back, and I’ll have to pay these things again when I leave. Unbelievable.
We arrive at Brea Olinda around 5 p.m. Once we exit the bus and enter campus we don’t really know where we’re going. But soon we’re headed down a hallway inside the school. “Watch your mouth,” snaps a woman walking in the opposite direction at one of the Santa Margarita players. I know I’m 23, but this is still hilarious. As the players dress, I hang out in the hallway with four players on the freshman team who have been invited to serve as water and ball boys. Underneath their jerseys is a dress shirt and tie. As players walk by many feel the need to get a couple good punches in on one of the freshman. I can’t really explain why they’re doing it, yet I completely understand it since I have a 10-year-old brother with whom I behave similarly. Not much happens except one player tells another to smell a rotten trashcan in the defensive locker room. Many of them apply face paint and one player is donning more than the typical paint under-the-eye. “Gotta look cute,” he says to no one in particular. Again, the team is very mild-mannered at this time, not a whole lot of chatter. Kicker Rob Maniaci asks the ball boys, “Who wants to be in charge of my kicking ball?” Each of them enthusiastically raises a hand.
There are signs everywhere that say “No Cleats!” but I think I’m the only one who sees them. As we head to the field we walk past a Coke vending machine filled with Milky Way and Three Musketeers-flavored chocolate milk, and Starburst fruit drinks. Are these commonplace now? Where have I been? My high school only had generic soda machines that ate up your money unless you broke them. … I want some.
We take the field and the team begins its walkthrough. I learn from assistant coach Vince Patee that two Eagles, Maniaci and John Michael Davis, both transferred from Orange Lutheran. It is not clear why Maniaci left, but Davis apparently wanted a chance to compete for the quarterback position. Patee tells Orlando he wants to see Maniaci worked in at wide receiver, but they both agree he still must learn the offense. Patee then tells me a story about when he played at Oregon in the mid-50s under former Oregon assistant, and USC head coach, John McKay. He says McKay once told a player with long hair that he was welcome to keep his hair long but he would not be allowed to practice or play with a helmet until he got a haircut. Apparently, the kid wasn’t sure if McKay was joking, but Patee says he wasn’t.
Weimann walks by and says he overheard an Orange Lutheran fan say “ ‘Let’s beat these Catholics. Win one for the Christians.’ We’re all Christians,” he then says. Yeah, I came from a Catholic school myself and I never understood how people confuse this, but if anyone’s wondering, Catholicism is a Christian denomination, not its own separate religion.
It’s a half hour before game time and Jacot gathers everyone for a final statement. “Find your motivation!” he says. The team then huddles behind the visitor’s bleachers. “We haven’t earned it yet. Nobody respects us,” one player screams. “Keep hitting them and they will give up,” says another. “I’m not going to school tomorrow,” says another.
Fullback Chris MacLean then runs down the middle of the huddle, going helmet to helmet with whoever is in front of him. Thankfully, I am behind him. “Play your (butt) off tonight. AND HAVE FUN!!! That’s the No. 1 thing. The outcome will take care of itself,” Jacot says. Many of the Santa Margarita parents are lined up just outside where the Eagles are gathered, waiting for them to take the field. Then out of nowhere, a five-piece marching band lines up in front of the team. “Half our coaching staff was flipping out because these guys weren’t here,” Orlando says. The stadium then says a collective prayer and the national anthem is played. The Eagles take the field, marching band and all.
FIRST QUARTER
Santa Margarita intercepts a pass inside its 20-yard line. I get the feeling the Eagles needed it. Running back Chris Spangenberg ends up scoring a touchdown, and the Eagles’ sideline briefly erupts. I then see Spangenberg pace the sideline by himself. Later, I realize he does this nearly the whole game. Orange Lutheran responds with a scoring drive of its own as Jacot yells instructions to his players during and after each play.
SECOND QUARTER
Both teams score again and Orlando tells me, “We gotta stop their dive.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but something is wrong with Santa Margarita’s defense. Orange Lutheran quarterback Aaron Corp is running all over the place. And when the Lancers do pass, Corp seems to have more time than he needs. After Orange Lutheran drives to the Santa Margarita 1, the Eagles recover a fumble in their end zone and I again I feel like they really needed it.
OK, it is officially freezing. Why didn’t I bring a beanie? Why? The two teams trade scores again and the score is tied, 21-21, at halftime.
HALFTIME
I’m very hungry, but there’s no time for that so I head back behind the bleachers with the team. Everyone is talking about Orange Lutheran. “They haven’t even punted yet,” assistant coach John Rodriguez says to the special teams unit. A few feet away assistant coach Jerry Holloway applauds the offensive line. “They (Orange Lutheran) haven’t given up this many points in a long time. They can’t believe it.” A player walks past me and complains of an upset stomach, and the team physician asks about his symptoms. I walk away before hearing his answer. Just before the Eagles are set to take the field again Jacot tells them, “We need a big stop.” No, they need a stop.
THIRD QUARTER
The half begins with another Lancers turnover and Eagles touchdown. Eric Manarino, who returned the fumble for the score, is greeted on the sideline by a teammate who jokes, “You almost got tackled by a tackle.” The announcer then tells everyone the Cardinals are in the World Series. Quietly, I am annoyed.
Orange Lutheran scores on its next two possessions, the latter of which prompts Jacot to tell a player, “It’s cover two!” Hey, I actually know what that means. On the ensuing kickoff a Lancer defender pins Santa Margarita inside its 10. “Is he that good? Should he be in the NFL?” A frustrated Rodriguez asks. Aside from Jacot, who’s often yelling at players on the field who might or not be able to hear him, none of the Santa Margarita coaches ever yells. In fact, they always seem to approach players privately and are almost soft-spoken. Likewise, the team is never very up or down.
The announcer plugs a pancake breakfast and I’m pretty upset with him at this point.
FOURTH QUARTER
A Santa Margarita field goal makes it 35-31, Orange Lutheran. The Lancers go right back down the field, though, converting two fourth downs. The second comes on fourth-and-goal, and this game appears over, reaffirmed by the barrage of four-letter words on the sideline. The Lancers then score another touchdown to lead 49-31, and it is definitely over. With a few minutes remaining Santa Margarita is still playing and its coaches are still coaching. “Eddie, we’re not playing college football,” Jacot says to an official. With half a minute left and the ball on the Eagles’ 5, Orange Lutheran kneels down and the game is over. That was a really classy move. The Lancers could have easily handed the ball off and it wouldn’t have been upstaging, but they ran the clock out. Both teams then take turns to watch as the other salutes its fans.
POSTGAME
“What are ya gonna do?” Jacot says as he walks off the field. As the players head to the locker room the coaches gather on the sideline. The conversation is light, but it all gets confusing when they begin discussing potential playoff scenarios and three- and even four- way ties in the competitive Trinity League. Then Holloway drops a Maxwell on Maxwell. Nice. With that we leave.
As a couple of us turn a corner in the locker room, there is an office, and through the window we see a bare referee. “The last thing you wanna see is a naked referee,” Weimann says. That just about kills my spirit. We quickly board the bus and head back to Rancho Santa Margarita. It is a quiet ride, understandably, although it was just as quiet on the way to the game. Two tolls later we arrive on campus. It’s 11:15 and I assume we’re all going our separate ways now. Wrong. Every player has put his helmet back on. After we all exit, the team lines up and starts walking through campus.
And there they were, all the parents. Just as they did before the game, the parents have formed an aisle for the players to walk through, congratulating them for their efforts. We all head to a statue of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. Everyone stands silently as the four team captains stand adjacent to the statue. “Keep believing in us,” one of them says. The four lead us in prayer, then we all say goodbye.
What a day.
By Adam Maya
Friday, October 20, 2006
The Orange County Register
