...and "it's a beautiful day for football in the Coliseum"

“I’m on the 50” my old man used to say… “33 rows up, smack dab in the middle of the Coliseum. I’ve got the best seat in the house.” That’s how my dad would respond when people asked where his season seat was for his beloved Los Angeles Rams. For as long as I could remember as a kid, my father was a season ticket holder for his favorite football team. He always seemed kind of excited as he’d head off to the game on Sundays after church, and I still remember the light brown binocular case he’d have slung over his shoulder as he headed out the door to hop into his black ’65 T-Bird to head downtown to the game.

Once I was older…about 6 or 7 or so, my dad would take me along to the game with a buddy of mine (usually Billy Horning from down the street on Esther Ave) and drop us off in near tunnel 28 in the General Admission section on the Peristyle end of the famed on Coliseum. The Rams organization had a program for years called “Free Football for Kids,” so my father and I would stop by each week at the Rams ticket office on West Pico (adjacent to 20^th Century Fox Studios) and pick up a general admission ticket for four dollars which came with two free tickets for kids under 12. My day would then accompany us into the game through the General Admission turn-style, tell us to stay out of trouble, and proceed to his 50-yardline perch while we happily watched the game  from the corner of the end zone.

Regardless of the many times I’d been there, it was always a magical feeling to emerge from tunnel 28 and arrive inside the historic Coliseum. Just the bouquet of colors alone was overwhelming at that young age, and it was always fun to watch my beloved Rams warm up in their beautiful blue and white home uniforms. I knew every player…every player…and I truly loved many of them. Dick Bass, Les Josephson, Willie Ellison, Billy Truax, Kenny Iman, Jack Snow, Roman Gabriel and Merlin Olsen…the position didn’t matter…if they played for the Rams…I knew their name. My favorite player of all time was number 75…Deacon Jones. He was part of the Rams notorious defensive line ominously named The Fearsome Foursome. They were all good (Lundy, Olsen, Grier and Jones) but Deacon Jones was my guy.

I suspect part of the love for Jones was simply his name. I just thought Deacon Jones was a really cool sounding name. But the thing I liked about him most was the tenacious but humble way he played. He was credited for coining the term “sack” and rushed the passer in an era were marquee players were known less for their idiotic antics than for their actual ability to play the game. In all the years I watched Deacon, I never recall him celebrating after a sack (ala Mark Gastineau), he simply made the play and then walked back to the huddle like it was routine. I suspect he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but I’m also guessing he didn’t want an offensive lineman dancing around like a moron every time he’d successfully kept Jones off the quarterback.

 

Hall of Fame defensive end Deacon Jones passed away earlier this week at the age of 74, and it made me think about how yet another part of my childhood is gone with the wind. It made me think about Sunday afternoons in the warm sun at the Coliseum in Los Angeles watching my team play as I listened to Dick Enberg’s play-by-play on my cool little cutting-edge transistor. It made me think about a time when talented players like Deacon Jones quietly went about their business and let their ability do the talking. It made lament the decline of humility, and welcome the attractiveness and drawing power of that characteristic on the rare occasion you see it today. It made me think about missing my dad.

This useless blog ends pretty much the same way every week, with some lame appeal to think more about the things that matter most and an urging to spend more time with the people you love. When you’re young, you assume things will stay the same way forever. Then one day, you wake up with shingles and realize that many of the people and things you thought would always be here have vanished.  So…keep the priorities clear…and if you can, make your time this weekend count.

I was driving home from work the other night when this song came on the radio. It sounded to me like Alison Kraus and James Taylor…and when it was over the DJ confirmed that suspicion. This won’t be everybody’s thing, but if you can’t appreciate serene beauty of this tune popularized mostly by Elvis Presley, well then, I really don’t know what to tell you.

Have a great weekend, and I really am sorry about the poor writing, bad spelling, and lousy grammar.

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