Bain, as in Train : Ram Tackle Is Coming to Practice From His Own Side of the Tracks

Bill Bain and conventionalism parted company years ago. The split was amiable enough, and Bain, who plays left offensive tackle for the Rams, seems the better man for it. His family remains his treasure, and his career, after being missing in action for nearly 10 seasons, now appears stuck on All-Pro.

Along the way, he earned another distinction befitting his status as a free spirit. Bain found happiness on a train.

There is a sleek black Mercedes, a testament to Bain’s success, in his Dana Point garage, but Bain is a train man now, right down to his arrival and departure schedules. In Southern California, where the car is an extension of one’s personality, Bain has chosen the public transit system.

Soon, perhaps as early as a week from Monday, Bain will be available for morning coffee chats or late-afternoon beer talks four times a week on Amtrak. Until then, he plays passenger twice a week.

“We’ve got this thing down to a science,” says Bain, who at 6 feet 4 inches and 290 pounds, takes up considerable space on a bench at the San Juan Capistrano station. “Usually we get here at 10 (minutes) to 8 and, boom, I’m gone.”

Bain is accompanied to the station by his wife, Elizabeth, and their two daughters, Jennifer and Kristen. It is an unusual looking collection: two petite young girls, an attractive woman, and a behemoth wearing sandals, blue shorts that can’t begin to hide his thighs, and a short-sleeved T-shirt that desperately clings to his keg-like chest.

The group receives a few stares from the pinstripe-suit crowd that customarily rides the Capistrano-to-Fullerton route. “Hey, I can’t wear my business suit--shoulder pads--here,” Bain says.

Time: 8:05.

“Usually, it’s here by now,” he says. “Maybe my watch is fast.”

Kristen begins beating two Eric Dickerson posters onto the ground. “Now don’t do that,” says Bain, gently retrieving the rolled-up photos of Dickerson. Appropriately, Dickerson is eluding several tacklers. Ram guard Dennis Harrah and Bain can be seen in the background.

“I brought these in at training camp for (Dickerson) to sign,” says Bain. “I took them home about two days later.” Now that Dickerson has returned from a contract dispute, Bain is trying once more.

Several minutes later, the train arrives. After hugs and kisses from his family, Bain steps aboard for the 50-minute ride.

Bain is royalty here. He settles into an aisle seat but doesn’t notice the expression on the face of the man sitting next to him. Stunned is an appropriate word. This is a man used to perusing his Wall Street Journal in the morning, not sharing a seat with someone built like a Chevy Caprice. The businessman slides closer to the window.

Other passengers aren’t so shy.

“Bill, may I ask you a question?” says another pinstriper seated near Bain.

Bain turns around. “Sure.”

“How’s Dickerson doing? Could you clear the way for him so he can score some touchdowns?”

Bain grins appreciatively. No doubt a Ram fan who understands how important offensive linemen are to a running back.

“We’re gonna try,” says Bain, waiting for the next compliment. “We’re not going up there (to Seattle for a Monday evening game) to lose, even if we’re the underdogs.”

“Good, because I’m in one of those leagues,” says the man. “We get 60 points for each touchdown he scores.”

Yes, well, fine, mumbles Bain, as he turns to his sports page.

Bain started taking the train shortly after the end of this year’s training camp. What had once been a 45-minute drive became a 75-minute exercise in aggravation. The freeways broke him.

“Now, look over there,” says Bain, gesturing toward a rush-hour traffic jam. “Right now, the freeway is at a dead stop. It’s just not worth it. This thing pays off every day. This thing never hits a traffic jam.”

There is a smugness in his voice. “Hey, everybody thinks it’s a great idea. (John) Robinson thinks it’s a great idea.”

The train continues to sway along. Santa Ana is the first stop. “Yeah, they’ve got a real nice station here,” says Bain, as if trains were his life. “Real nice.” A passenger steps off the train, but not before wishing Bain good luck for the Seattle game.

Minutes later, as the train pulls away from the station, Bain explains the pleasant demands of railroad celebrity status.

“They just say, ‘Good luck,’ things like that,” he says. “They’re a bunch of nice guys. They just ask me questions, and I just try to tell them what I know. There’s one guy I talk to who’s in investments. Another guy sells plastics. I mean, I just sit here and read my paper. Nobody really bothers me, but enough people around here know that I’m a ballplayer. People sit down and talk to you a lot.”

One of the favorite topics is Dickerson and his contract. “It’s hard for them to feel sorry for a guy who makes $1.6 million over two years,” Bain says. “But he’s a great kid.”

Quarterback Dieter Brock is another topic of conversation, but the offensive line rarely enters the conversation. “They don’t talk about me. Nah. I’m just a lineman. I just want to go home and be with my family.”

One of the conductors approaches Bain for his ticket. Bain becomes playful. He hugs the conductor, much to the delight of the passengers on coach No. 5.

Bain settles back into his seat as the train rattles past Anaheim Stadium. An item in the sports section catches his attention. It seems that quarterback Jim McMahon of the Chicago Bears has a sore neck, the result of a ritual he follows after the Bears score. After a touchdown, McMahon butts helmets with a teammate.

“Can you believe that?” says Bain. “You know, we have a play that makes me an eligible receiver. We’ve had that pass play in for five or six years. I’ve been open a bunch. Well, if I ever get a touchdown on that thing, (fellow offensive lineman Russ) Bolinger and I are going to do high heads (as opposed to high fives). Boli and I will jump up and do high heads.”

Bain continues to scan the sports section.

“Now, look at this,” he says, pointing to an item in the sports transactions telling that the Philadelphia Eagles had asked waivers on linebacker Tim Golden.

“You get a year’s credit on your pension if you play three games in a season,” Bain says. “They cut him with one week to go. He was probably one game away from getting his pension. Rotten. Yeah, well, welcome to the NFL. That’s the way that goes, too.”

Even now, at 33 and with All-Pro status, Bain, who has no desire to play elsewhere, occasionally thinks about the possibility of another trade.

“I thought about taking this thing all the way to San Diego if I ever got traded to the Chargers,” he says.

Bain finishes reading the paper and chats with several other passengers. The train approaches the Fullerton station--Bain’s stop. If all goes as planned, tight end Mike Barber will be there to drive Bain to Rams Park. Barber and offensive tackle Irv Pankey take turns providing that service.

Barber is a no-show. “He must have forgotten,” Bain says.

No problem. Awaiting Bain in the station parking lot is a recent purchase, a very used car. “My boat,” he says proudly. “Cost $1,000. Geez, is this a beast or what?”

Bain arrives at the practice field at 9:15. About eight hours later, after meetings, practice, weightlifting and various medical treatments, Bain returns to Fullerton station. He allows himself two beers, over ice, on the train home and revels in the pinstripers’ gossip and opinions.

For Bain, this is the good life. It is also the simple life and, like the man himself, refreshingly unconventional.