Because the team we were playing that week, Hart High School, ran the single wing, I was the primary ball carrier, a tailback receiving a direct snap from the center. We were running Hart's plays based on what they had run the previous year. I actually still have my plays and scouting material from that year, and every few years I pull out those yellowing pages and look at them. It never fails to bring a smile to my face.

 

By the time the hours of daylight had become the twilight, the sweat of the afternoon was now cold in the early evening chill. Our success against the varsity could be measured in feet rather than yards. They were really hitting us hard, which was good, I think, but on one play I did make it past the line and headed for the goal. Coach Solari blew the whistle before I could actually score, depriving me of the thrill of scoring and my teammates of a small victory and a measure of pride in our accomplishment. Everyone had done their assignment perfectly. We all wanted to be football players, and there is a big difference between someone saying, “He’s on the football team,” and “He’s a football player.”

 

Coach explained the defensive breakdown, and challenged the players to be more aggressive. I remember thinking, “That’s all we need, for these guys to be even more aggravated than they already are”. The first stringers began to yell and a few were actually snarling. We were, after all, the South Pasadena Tigers. Football is often a game of emotion as well as execution. Blocks or tackles described as “pancakes” and “de-cleated” were praised by the coaches and respected by everyone. We all agreed of course that it was better to give than to receive.

 

It was nearly dark; we had been practicing for almost three hours. We lost over twenty yards in the next three plays. At last, Coach Solari said, "Goal line Defense."

 

This signified that practice was almost over. The defense dug in and we ran some plays that perhaps moved the ball forward an inch. It was hard to tell who made the hits since there were no numbers on the uniforms, but I think I saw Bill Reece, Jeff Howe and Bill Little through the ear hole of my helmet. I thought the guys on our side of the ball had done well not to LOSE yards, because with the end of the practice in sight the defense was really fired up. Our defensive guys were really good; six of them went on to play college football and eight of them made All Rio Hondo League first or second team. After yet another unsuccessful effort which failed to gain even a yard, Coach Solari said to the defense,

 

"Gentlemen! Four more plays. First and Goal from the five, practice will end with a thousand yards of bear crawls if they score. Scout team, if you score you'll be done."

 

Bear crawls were tedious, the most dreaded part of practice, and of course we were all already tired and bruised from the previous three hours, so this was motivation for everyone. It seemed unfair that after being beaten up all afternoon, the scout team scrubs would almost surely be the ones doing the bear crawls. Football taught us that life is not fair. It's a good lesson that I have found to be true. There might be praise for a good effort, but only results count. When you finish second at a job interview, you still don’t have a job. At least we had been given a chance, albeit a small one, to determine our fate.

 

I called a play, and explained the blocking assignments. We broke the huddle to do our best to test the varsity. Thoughts of the movie Rudy, about a Notre Dame football player now come to mind.

 

On 1st down, I tried the right side of the defense, but I was hit almost as I caught the ball. I only just had time to tuck it and I barely held on to it. Despite the pounding, none of us had fumbled all afternoon, a small victory.

 

On 2nd down I tried the left side, with much the same result. I made a note from my position on the ground that the moon could now be seen brightly overhead.

 

On 3rd down Coach came into our huddle and called a play. Our fullback was stuffed at the line and there were still five yards between us and the goal. I thought at the time that it might as well have been a hundred.

 

We had just one more chance to prove ourselves. I was thinking about those bear crawls, but also about salvaging some pride for our guys who had played their butts off all afternoon. Most of us knew we wouldn’t get on the field on Friday night, this was our big game.

 

We huddled again and Coach Solari called the same play to the other side. I looked at him and said, actually shouted, "I'm carrying the ball." I can’t believe I’ve said this but there was no way to take it back. Coach looked at me, but he called the same play.

 

"I'm carrying the ball," I said again, this time with less volume but just as much conviction. Coach looked at me again for a long minute. I had defied him, but I could also see he was maybe proud of me in a way.

 

"All right."

 

I called a play, but I changed the blocking scheme. The center snapped the ball and as I started right, our YBack helped on a double team on the end. There was just enough room for me to scoot through the gap they created and flash across the goal line before I was hit hard by the linebacker and the safety. They rocked my world and drove me backwards, throwing my lightweight body violently to the turf and knocking the wind out of me, but Coach Solari blew the whistle and yelled touchdown. My friend Bill Little helped me up and said something like, "Good effort."

 

I didn't hesitate. I got up, dropped the ball and took off running before Coach Solari could change his mind. The rest of the Scout team quickly followed me. I had to run all the way across the campus from the practice field to the locker room. I knew if I didn't clear the locker room and get on the way home I might have to deal with some of the varsity guys who were NOT that impressed with my effort. I knew it would take awhile for them to do the bear crawls, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I didn't even shower, I just changed quickly, grabbed my stuff and left. As I was running covertly toward the street, I could hear the varsity as they headed toward the locker room from the practice field. [I still didn't think of myself as varsity] saying stuff like,

 

"Where is that %@$%&* Tomlin?"

 

It was dark by then, but even as tired as I was [less tired than the guys who did bear crawls though] I decided that I would rather walk the two miles home than wait for a ride and become a target for the frustration of the defense.

 

I was almost home when a car pulled up beside me. I recognized the car, it was Coach Solari’s little green Volkswagen bug. He lived just a few blocks away from me. He rolled down the passenger window and said,

 

"Tomlin, what are you doing walking home in the dark?"

 

"It's not far; I just live up the street." I said.

 

"It's not far NOW," he replied.

 

I couldn’t think of anything to say. Coach Solari was already a legend in 1960. He had played in the Rose Bowl and was an All American at Cal. As the coach at South Pasadena High School he had already led the team to two CIF Championships. In 1998, they named the stadium for Coach Solari, which had been named for President Roosevelt. I attended the ceremony and was happy that he even remembered me. Of course I had written several times to thank him for being a big part of my life.

 

"You had a couple nice runs today. You did a good job."

 

You have to have known Coach Solari to realize that this was huge praise, a great memory. Eventually, near the end of the season, he actually called me a football player. I always remembered what this moment meant to me when I became a coach and teacher myself, and I tried to praise honestly the efforts of the kids on my teams.

 

"Thank you Sir."

 

He smiled at me then and said,

 

"Hart never uses the YBack to double team."

 

"No Sir, I know that."

 

"Maybe they should," he said, and with that he drove away.

 

 

Ray Solari's Party (1998) after the re-naming of the stadium.

'61 Tiger FB team (left to right)

Jim Tomlin, Bill Little, Dave Curry, (behind Dave Curry is BB Coach Jack Schwartzbaugh), Jim Ritchko, Coach Solari, Dave Dickson, John Kovac.