An Aging Grace : He Never Made Pros, but at 41, Quarterback’s Sandlot Play Is Poetry

“Life is to be a participant, not a spectator.”

--Tom Nordee

The king of sandlot football is 41 now and still rules all those games of touch on the bluff that overlooks the ocean in Long Beach. His hair--and dreams of making the pros--are on the way out, but there is no need to say farewell to his right arm, which is as golden as ever.

Tom Nordee, wearing a cap to cover the bald spot, used that arm last weekend in San Diego to throw enough touchdown passes to make looking for even a hint of tarnish unnecessary.

Nordee led his Belmont Station team to five straight victories in the Southern California Flag Football Championships, which for him was nothing new. He’s always had that arm, a creative brain to direct it and a desire to lead others to victory.

“We want Nordee” was the chant on a fall Saturday in 1965. Nordee was sent in at quarterback for Long Beach City College near the end of the season’s final game. Hand the ball off, the coach said. Nordee did. Same thing, the coach said. I want to score, I’m a passer, thought Nordee, and he threw a touchdown pass. As his friends carried him off the field, he knew he was in heaven.

Until that day, Nordee had never played in a high school or college game. At 128 pounds, he had been too skinny to make the Poly High team. He swam and played water polo but what he loved was throwing a football. So he played in the parks of Long Beach and began to build a career as a masterful amateur quarterback.

Last weekend, the 6-foot-2, 175-pound Nordee, still in heaven, threw a touchdown pass almost the length of the field to Michael Willis, who had to run like the wind to catch it. Nordee, with the self-assured grin that is often perceived as arrogance, came to the sidelines and said, “The old man can still throw 80 yards.”

That arm, it seems, has forever been throwing “bombs.”

On an afternoon of war in 1967, Nordee, a medic, was full of rage near Phan Rang, South Vietnam. He had just seen a close friend die in an ambush. Nordee pulled the pin on a grenade and faded back as if looking for a receiver in the rice paddy in front of him. A Viet Cong, about 80 yards away, was running what to Nordee resembled a post pattern (where a receiver runs toward the goal posts), so Nordee let go with a “pass” and, as always, was on target.

Players on the Belmont Station team, practicing recently on the grass bluff, said it was sad that Nordee never made it to the National Football League.

“ This is his NFL,” said Dennis Byrd, a former Cal State Long Beach player.

If not that, the bluff--which draws former professional and college players--certainly is his kingdom, and Nordee can look down on it from his 17th-floor apartment on Ocean Boulevard at Cherry Avenue.

On his balcony, Nordee, who is also a competitive body surfer, said, “A beach and a football field--what more can you want?”

Inside the apartment are 16 years’ worth of trophies which Nordee won for leading semipro, touch and flag teams to championships, and for being the most valuable player of several leagues.

‘I Like to Win’

“I like to win,” said Nordee, who once shattered a trophy against a tree because it was for second place. “If I’m jogging on the beach and someone passes me, I’ll drive myself to sprint.”

Nordee’s brother, David, 38, who has caught a lot of his passes, said: “He’s a legend in his own time. He’s probably the best sandlot player in the world. He’s a born leader. Give him an offensive line and I know he’d riddle any team. He always comes out on top.”

Young players try to beat Nordee in pickup games on the bluff but rarely do. Sparkling like the ocean behind him, he riddles them, then laughs good-naturedly at them.

“When I first came out here, I said, ‘Who is this old quarterback?’ ” said Kevin Stinson, 27. “But the first time I saw him throw, he had my respect. He’s shown us all something.”

Often, if there is no one else to play with, Nordee, a kid at heart, is on the bluff with children, showing them how to catch passes.

Several Pro Tryouts

Nordee has tried out with several pro teams but never had much of a chance. In 1974, when he was 29, the Rams told him he was too old. This summer, at 41, the Birmingham Stallions of the United States Football League told him he was too old, although he really didn’t believe it. Only last season, playing for the Bellflower Bears, he was named the most valuable player of the High Desert semipro league.

“I’ve tried,” said Nordee, a counselor at Cypress College, “but I don’t think I’ll do it again, I don’t think anything will materialize. I might do it for fun, though. It’s ego-gratifying to do better than some hotshot rookie.”

Tom Fears, a member of the National Professional Football Hall of Fame who once watched Nordee have a bad day while trying out for the L.A. Express, said, “He has the ability but he’s way over age. Nobody will touch him.”

The pro dream may be over but Nordee doesn’t lack sources of inspiration. Last weekend, he tried to win the tournament so that his team could go to St. Louis in November for the national flag championships.

He had put together a talented team that had won leagues in Long Beach and Carson last year. It included John Tautolo, formerly of the New York Giants; Michael Alo, formerly of USC; Michael Willis, once a star at Cal State Long Beach, and Vister Hayes, who was with the Express.

Nordee’s team defeated its first four opponents in San Diego by wide margins. Nordee, with his hat on backward, threw short passes and long ones and completed most of them, even the ones that wobbled. The pass routes he had designed were more intricate than those of any of the other teams.

“He puts it right there,” said Sean Blair, a former Cal State Fullerton player whose face was baked red by the sun. “Every guy is wide open, he’s got it all laid out.”

Sometimes, though, Willis, Hayes and Bill Brown, who last year was a tight end at Brigham Young, just took off with great speed and ran under Nordee’s throws.

“I think a lot of him,” Hayes said of Nordee. “If I had to pick a quarterback, he’d be it.”

Nordee also ran for touchdowns, sidestepping or spinning past defenders before they could pull the flag (strip of cloth) from his belt. He even played safety on defense. He talked constantly, giving advice and directions.

“Nothin’ to it, guys,” he would say, coming off the field after yet another TD.

“He’s probably the youngest 41-year-old I’ve ever seen,” said cornerback Greg Johnson.

Belmont Station, which had won two games Saturday, won its first two Sunday and took the field against a team called Faith Chapel in the semifinals.

Hayes was out with a muscle pull. Alo was dehydrated. Everybody was tired, even Nordee, but he didn’t let on. In a red jersey and plaid shorts, he kept spreading around his enthusiasm.

At half time, he said, “I want you guys drinking water. Remember, I’m a Vietnam medic, I know how to take care of my troops.”

Sprint for a Touchdown

Late in the fourth quarter, Nordee sprinted for a touchdown that tied the game at 27. He then passed to Willis, who made a stretching catch with both feet on the end zone’s sideline, for the extra point.

Faith Chapel was then stopped and all Nordee had to do was run out the clock. But like that day 21 years ago at Long Beach City College, he thought, “I’m a passer, I want to score.” So he passed.

“What’s he doing?” his players grumbled. “He’s going to lose it for us.”

And with 1:35 to go, Nordee threw an interception. But Faith Chapel ran out of time and the Long Beach team advanced to the finals against the Local Pros, a San Diego team that was the tournament’s defending champion.

The game would start, the tournament director said, in 10 minutes because it was getting late.

‘I’m Beat’

“Oh, man, I’m beat, I need at least 30 minutes,” Willis said.

Four games in one day would be too much.

Belmont Station voted to have the game rescheduled, and when the Local Pros learned that, they assaulted Nordee’s weary team with obscenities.

But it was too dark to play anyway and no lights were available. It was decided to reschedule the championship game for Sept. 13.

The San Diego team kept screaming, “You’re scared.”

Nordee just smiled. This was a relief in a way. After the narrow victory, he had gone to meditate because “I was fatigued, I wasn’t thinking clearly and made mental errors.”

Now there would be no chance that the weekend would end in a loss. There would be four weeks to prepare to win.

“We’ll practice every day on the bluff,” the king of sandlot football said to his team, then walked happily toward the sunset.