Hell Week is aptly named.
It's a period of intense drilling and conditioning conducted by prep football teams everywhere, and takes place near the end of the summer -- usually in the sun-scorched month of August. This is a varsity hopeful's first real opportunity to begin earning a spot on the team.
The two-a-day sessions are intended to sift the team -- to separate those who want to play from those merely infatuated with the idea of it. During this annual rite of passage, players sprint to the point of throwing up. They drill to near fainting. They push to the edge of breaking.
Infatuation rarely survives Hell Week.
Few are better geared to execute the purposes of Hell Week than SCCS assistant coach John Sanna. The fiery defensive coordinator stepped onto the practice field in dry, dusty Agua Dulce carrying five years of experience with the team. He'd seen the Cardinals through their birth and their first steps. In 2003, Sanna was eager to see them take flight -- even if it meant kicking them out of the nest.
He set the tone early.
"It was our first day and we weren't even done stretching when coach Sanna saw a rattle snake over by our cars," said then-senior Stephen Crawford.
Sanna didn't bother interrupting the warm up. He grabbed a broom and marched into the dirt parking lot.
"He just walks over and starts whacking away," Crawford said. "And when he was done he dropped the broom, threw the carcass away and walked back and stared at us while we were stretching. He didn't say a word. It kind of scared the heck out of some of the younger kids, but it set the tone that we meant business. We all saw it. We all knew what had happened."
Sanna applied the same no-nonsense approach to preparing his defense. He preached a simple message: pursue, then punish.
"The defense is a lot stronger this year," he said before the season began. "These guys know they can win. And we have more guys so everybody's out here fighting for a spot."
Sanna took full advantage of the competition. Players vying for a place on his defense had plenty to prove. Speed and strength were critical. But nothing was more important than a commitment to ferocity.
"He brought a pink chair and cooler of lemonade and an umbrella to the field," Crawford said. "He told us, 'Anyone who doesn't want to work hard at practice can have a seat in the sissy chair.' The catch was if you did that, you had to run the gauntlet when practice was over."
The gauntlet was a tunnel of players lined up two-by-two. Victims race threw it to the end, all the while absorbing a pounding from the rest of the team.
Sanna brought the sissy chair to every practice. Not one player ever elected to sit in it.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Cardinal Football Finds a Home
SCCS football played its inaugural season in 1998. But it wasn't until 2003 that the program finally found a home.
For each of the program's first five seasons, summers and falls were spent in large part begging for a place to practice. City parks, public schools, homes with exceptionally large yards. It didn't matter. The team would drag its players and equipment wherever there was room.
Unfortunately, in the football-saturated valley of Santa Clarita, practice space was hard to come by. In a city that routinely produced Southern California section champions in the 11-man divisions, SCCS sat low on the totem pole.
And so when the 2003 summer practice season began -- not on the cramped slopes of Canyon Country Park or in some gopher-ridden patch of dirt and crabgrass -- but in a dedicated, secluded acreage of grass -- SCCS's coaches and players has good reason for the spring in their collective step.
The land belonged to Steve Borden, better known to professional wrestling fans as Sting. Borden's oldest son, Garrett, was an 8th grader at SCCS and would join the team in 2004.
It didn't matter that the field sat 10 miles north on Highway 14 in Agua Dulce. What did matter was that the team had a place to park its blocking sleds and practice pads. It had a field on which it could simulate game situations. It had a place to call home.
The dedicated facilities, along with the team's playoff push in 2002, generated a lot of enthusiasm.
"We have 34 guys on the field this year," Moss said during a preseason practice session. "Last year we had 21. Twelve freshman came out for the team."
The surge in the roster meant more depth, which meant more players to pit against each other in practice. But it would be up to coach Moss, offensive coordinator John Stone, and defensive coordinator John Sanna to cash it in for wins.
"We want to win the big game this year," Moss said. "Last year we won the games we were supposed to win, but we didn't win the battles. We want to turn that around this season."
For each of the program's first five seasons, summers and falls were spent in large part begging for a place to practice. City parks, public schools, homes with exceptionally large yards. It didn't matter. The team would drag its players and equipment wherever there was room.
Unfortunately, in the football-saturated valley of Santa Clarita, practice space was hard to come by. In a city that routinely produced Southern California section champions in the 11-man divisions, SCCS sat low on the totem pole.
And so when the 2003 summer practice season began -- not on the cramped slopes of Canyon Country Park or in some gopher-ridden patch of dirt and crabgrass -- but in a dedicated, secluded acreage of grass -- SCCS's coaches and players has good reason for the spring in their collective step.
The land belonged to Steve Borden, better known to professional wrestling fans as Sting. Borden's oldest son, Garrett, was an 8th grader at SCCS and would join the team in 2004.
It didn't matter that the field sat 10 miles north on Highway 14 in Agua Dulce. What did matter was that the team had a place to park its blocking sleds and practice pads. It had a field on which it could simulate game situations. It had a place to call home.
The dedicated facilities, along with the team's playoff push in 2002, generated a lot of enthusiasm.
"We have 34 guys on the field this year," Moss said during a preseason practice session. "Last year we had 21. Twelve freshman came out for the team."
The surge in the roster meant more depth, which meant more players to pit against each other in practice. But it would be up to coach Moss, offensive coordinator John Stone, and defensive coordinator John Sanna to cash it in for wins.
"We want to win the big game this year," Moss said. "Last year we won the games we were supposed to win, but we didn't win the battles. We want to turn that around this season."
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
What Is Eight Man Football?
Eight-man football is similar to standard, 11-man football in its objective, if not its approach.
Teams need 10 yards for a first down, earn six points for a touchdown, three for a field goal, etc. In California high schools, games unfold in four 12-minute quarters, just like in 11-man. Quarterbacks still throw, running backs run, and linebackers hit.
But that's where the similarities end.
Eight-man football, which emerged in California in the mid-eighties as a way for small-enrollment schools to field teams, is played on fields that are shorter -- 80 yards instead of 100, and skinnier -- about 40 yards instead of 50, at least in theory. SCCS, like many schools, play on borrowed fields, where changing the width just isn't practical.
Even on fields that are 40-yards wide, play is wide open; points tend to come in bunches. With just eight defenders covering, a running back, for example, can slip one tackle and find himself behind the entire defense. A receiver can beat one defensive back and be standing alone in the end zone.
It's not unusual for a team to score 30 points by halftime and lose in eight man. For SCCS, which played on fields 10 yards wider, that fact was exaggerated. A touchdown was never more than a well executed sweep away ... provided the team had at least one good athlete carrying the ball.
In 2003, the Cardinals possessed two such athletes in a pair of juniors: The speedy Orlandi Pena and the slippery Stephen Mercier. Pena routinely beat defenses to the edges and always gave more than he got when he and the defense collided. Mercier had a knack for pinballing off of would-be tacklers without losing his feet or his momentum.
Both were tough to catch and even tougher to bring down.
This was the dynamic pair that first-year coach Garrick Moss had inherited in 2002, when SCCS surprised everyone with a winning season and a playoff appearance.
By 2003, the Cardinals were bigger, faster and more experienced. Moss and his staff were also more experienced. The team unveiled new schemes on both sides of the ball in '02. In 2003 SCCS was ready to spread its wings.
People who followed the team closely were anticipating it. The Cardinals' rivals in the Heritage League, on the other hand, never saw it coming.
Teams need 10 yards for a first down, earn six points for a touchdown, three for a field goal, etc. In California high schools, games unfold in four 12-minute quarters, just like in 11-man. Quarterbacks still throw, running backs run, and linebackers hit.
But that's where the similarities end.
Eight-man football, which emerged in California in the mid-eighties as a way for small-enrollment schools to field teams, is played on fields that are shorter -- 80 yards instead of 100, and skinnier -- about 40 yards instead of 50, at least in theory. SCCS, like many schools, play on borrowed fields, where changing the width just isn't practical.
Even on fields that are 40-yards wide, play is wide open; points tend to come in bunches. With just eight defenders covering, a running back, for example, can slip one tackle and find himself behind the entire defense. A receiver can beat one defensive back and be standing alone in the end zone.
It's not unusual for a team to score 30 points by halftime and lose in eight man. For SCCS, which played on fields 10 yards wider, that fact was exaggerated. A touchdown was never more than a well executed sweep away ... provided the team had at least one good athlete carrying the ball.
In 2003, the Cardinals possessed two such athletes in a pair of juniors: The speedy Orlandi Pena and the slippery Stephen Mercier. Pena routinely beat defenses to the edges and always gave more than he got when he and the defense collided. Mercier had a knack for pinballing off of would-be tacklers without losing his feet or his momentum.
Both were tough to catch and even tougher to bring down.
This was the dynamic pair that first-year coach Garrick Moss had inherited in 2002, when SCCS surprised everyone with a winning season and a playoff appearance.
By 2003, the Cardinals were bigger, faster and more experienced. Moss and his staff were also more experienced. The team unveiled new schemes on both sides of the ball in '02. In 2003 SCCS was ready to spread its wings.
People who followed the team closely were anticipating it. The Cardinals' rivals in the Heritage League, on the other hand, never saw it coming.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Planting Seeds of Success
Every journey begins with a first step. Every path to greatness begins somewhere. For the Santa Clarita Christian (SCCS) football program, that first step took place in the most unlikely of places: On Catalina Island.
In truth, it wouldn’t have made a difference if the Cardinals had faced Avalon in their own back yard. They were outmatched.
The score was 60-26 Avalon before the Cardinals came up with their first defensive stop, which came on a recovered fumble with 47 seconds to go in the third quarter. For the entire second half, the boys from Santa Clarita were just trying to make it to the end of regulation. In eight-man football, a team that falls behind by 45 points or more after halftime loses via the dreaded mercy rule.
But that doesn’t mean they took the loss well. Everyone was disappointed. Some were devastated. Parents and players were in tears. This was a painful, bitter defeat.
“It’s been a good season, but I feel like I failed,” he told me. “I didn’t take the team past what anyone else has done. I didn’t pick it up when it counted.”
Sulham had just turned in one of the best statistical games of his career, completing 22-of-37 passes for 358 yards and four touchdowns. On defense, he shared the team lead in tackles with eight.
But there wasn’t much I or anyone else could have said to make him feel any better at that moment. If you’ve ever been an athlete, you know there’s no salve for the ache that settles in your stomach after you realize you’ve just played the final game of your career.
In truth, it wouldn’t have made a difference if the Cardinals had faced Avalon in their own back yard. They were outmatched.
The score was 60-26 Avalon before the Cardinals came up with their first defensive stop, which came on a recovered fumble with 47 seconds to go in the third quarter. For the entire second half, the boys from Santa Clarita were just trying to make it to the end of regulation. In eight-man football, a team that falls behind by 45 points or more after halftime loses via the dreaded mercy rule.
But that doesn’t mean they took the loss well. Everyone was disappointed. Some were devastated. Parents and players were in tears. This was a painful, bitter defeat.
Such devastation runs counter to the once-popular notion in Santa Clarita that SCCS athletes don’t care as much about winning as the rest of the football obsessed high schools in the Santa Clarita Valley. The players and coaches never argue with the refs. They don’t talk trash. They don’t rub victory in opponent’s faces and they don’t lose their composure or make excuses when they lose.
But anyone who confused good sportsmanship with a lack of competitive fire learned something from the Cardinal faithful on Catalina that day. Cardinal senior quarterback Caleb Sulham said it best.
But anyone who confused good sportsmanship with a lack of competitive fire learned something from the Cardinal faithful on Catalina that day. Cardinal senior quarterback Caleb Sulham said it best.
“It’s been a good season, but I feel like I failed,” he told me. “I didn’t take the team past what anyone else has done. I didn’t pick it up when it counted.”
Sulham had just turned in one of the best statistical games of his career, completing 22-of-37 passes for 358 yards and four touchdowns. On defense, he shared the team lead in tackles with eight.
But there wasn’t much I or anyone else could have said to make him feel any better at that moment. If you’ve ever been an athlete, you know there’s no salve for the ache that settles in your stomach after you realize you’ve just played the final game of your career.
He wanted to get his team to Round 2 of the playoffs – something no player wearing a Cardinal uniform had ever done. It was a noteworthy goal. The distance between Round 1 and Round 2 of the playoffs can be vast.
But Sulham had already helped his team bridge an even greater chasm. He took a team of players that hadn’t won in almost two seasons and taught them to believe they could. He took a team with only three seniors and showed them how to win.
Sulham wasn’t on the field for the Cardinals’ season of firsts the following year. But that team was very much a piece of his legacy. The 5-5 sprout of a winning team grew into an eight-man powerhouse in part because he helped plant the seed.
By the end of the 2002 season, Caleb Sulham had already taken the Cardinals farther than they’d ever gone. He just didn’t know it yet. Nobody did.
But some suspected.
But Sulham had already helped his team bridge an even greater chasm. He took a team of players that hadn’t won in almost two seasons and taught them to believe they could. He took a team with only three seniors and showed them how to win.
Sulham wasn’t on the field for the Cardinals’ season of firsts the following year. But that team was very much a piece of his legacy. The 5-5 sprout of a winning team grew into an eight-man powerhouse in part because he helped plant the seed.
By the end of the 2002 season, Caleb Sulham had already taken the Cardinals farther than they’d ever gone. He just didn’t know it yet. Nobody did.
But some suspected.
Friday, January 1, 2010
A Dynasty from an Ant Hill
The Santa Clarita Christian eight-man football team won its second straight CIF championship in 2009. In 2008, the Cardinals were named California state champs.
A dynasty? Maybe. But not always. Not even close, and not ever likely.
The Cardinals' ascent to excellence began in 2003. Two years before that, the team was 0-9.
This blog is the story of that '03 team and its remarkable and unexpected run. It is a tale of boys on the cusp of manhood and parents on the edge of their seats. It's about coaches squeezing the most out of their team and players chasing victories they never imagined they'd taste.
It's about what the Lord can do and what happens when football becomes something more than a game.
This is the Cardinals' story. More to the point, this is where their story began...
A dynasty? Maybe. But not always. Not even close, and not ever likely.
The Cardinals' ascent to excellence began in 2003. Two years before that, the team was 0-9.
This blog is the story of that '03 team and its remarkable and unexpected run. It is a tale of boys on the cusp of manhood and parents on the edge of their seats. It's about coaches squeezing the most out of their team and players chasing victories they never imagined they'd taste.
It's about what the Lord can do and what happens when football becomes something more than a game.
This is the Cardinals' story. More to the point, this is where their story began...
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