DRILLS, SPILLS AND LOTS OF TAPE : At La Habra, the First Week in Pads Means 3 Daily Practices for Pride . . . and Out of Fear

High school football is a rude game. Players spend a week--they call it Hell Week--lifting weights, running and sweating only to be rewarded with something worse. Then they’re piled under gobs of foam and plastic, expected to work just as hard and to understand strategies and plays that read like Sanskrit.

Oh, the first week in pads. If ever there were something designed to make a guy’s life a living heck, this is it. New plays and new formations kindle new yearnings in players to join the band.

At La Habra High School, four-time defending Freeway League champion, it’s all taken to the extreme. Hell Week lasts two weeks. Pads do not mean two-a-day practices, but three-a-days. Players are taped for their first practice at 7:30 a.m. and will not finish the day until 8 that night.

Here is a look at one day in their lives.

At 7:30 a.m. Mike Dunnuck slumbers into the La Habra locker room and faces the horrible realization-- Bob Rau has athletic tape and he wants my ankles.

“No! No way! You’re the worst taper in the world, coach!” And with that, Dunnuck tears out of sight and into the metal maze of lockers, Rau giving pursuit. Comic

relief ensues. Rau runs down one row of lockers; Dunnuck peeks his head around another.

“Miiike!” Rau pauses, listening for the shuffle of a sock or the crack of a tongue depressor snapping underfoot. “Miiiiikuuull? I’m going to tape your ankles whether you like it or not.”

Rau’s reputation as cast-maker precedes him. “He thinks we’re horses,” says receiver Jamie Hutcherson. Rau, in his fifth year at La Habra, knows well his sticky reputation, but claims he’s gotten a bad (w)rap.

Rau insists that every player’s ankles be taped. Every player also must wear knee braces. La Habra has been one of Orange County’s most successful teams the last few years, but the Highlanders are short of players these days. The varsity fields just 36, and because of injuries only 33 are suited up this day.

“Any amount of injuries would be especially disastrous for us,” Rau says.

So untaped, unbraced players are punished with running after practice. Rau does not have strength in numbers, so he must make his numbers strong. Before morning meetings begin, La Habra’s 170-pound center, Bryan Hutcherson, asks Rau why he has been listed as La Habra’s 185-pound center.

Rau explains: “There aren’t many of us, so we have to seem as strong as possible. I don’t want people to know my center only weighs 170 pounds.”

Sorry, coach.

After meetings and morning aerobics, practice begins. It does not go well. Backs and receivers bump into each other as routes get crossed. There is no sense of timing. At one point Dunnuck, a tight end, has two balls thrown at him, one hitting his helmet, the other his foot.

Rau asks him why he didn’t catch the balls. Dunnuck doesn’t take too kindly to that and kicks one of the balls in disgust. It zips by Rau’s head. Rau freezes Dunnuck with a stare, then walks over to him and whispers something into his face mask. He then pats Dunnuck on the tail-pad.

“I’ve never subscribed to that marching little soldiers stuff,” Rau says. “We have a lot of competitive kids here. They want success. We allow them to blow off some steam or vent some competitive spirit every now and then.”

Practice continues to go poorly. It’s hot and muggy, and the players are bathed in sweat. They can’t remember their blocking assignments. Rau approaches one player to explain what he was supposed to do, and when the player answers back Rau explodes.

“I don’t want to talk! I want you to listen!” Rau booms.

Rau doesn’t talk to or at his players. He talks through them, all over them. As players break into individual drills Rau can easily be heard 100 yards away, his voice carrying over other coaches’, a tractor cutting grass and the traffic on Whittier Boulevard, which borders the field.

Morning practice mercifully ends after quarterback Matt Shackelford lines up behind center and begins to yell signals, only to find that someone forgot to give the center a ball.

“This was like pulling an elephant through a mouse hole,” Rau says. “But I think we did OK. The kids are on overload right now with all the information we’ve been feeding them. It can be a hard time.”

Dunnuck and the two Hutchersons grab lunch at McDonald’s. The three consume $23 worth of Big Macs, french fries, McNuggets, sundaes and shakes, washing it all down with a gallon jug of Gatorade at Dunnuck’s house. The day before, the boys spent $27 at Carl’s Jr.

Dunnuck and Bryan Hutcherson are seniors and will probably see a lot of playing time. Jamie is a sophomore. When asked why they put themselves through it all, they explain it has a lot to do with pride. Well, pride with a fair helping of fear.

“La Habra has such a great reputation in football, no one wants to be on that one team that lets it down,” Dunnuck said.

There are still two more practice sessions--one for special teams, then a full-blown defensive practice.

Defensive practice lends a measure of relief from the academics of offense. Sure, players have to know coverages and stunts, but if they can get to their man and hit him, that seems to correct any mental blunder.

During one drill, offensive tackle Rob Bills, 6-feet 1-inch and 230 pounds, volunteers to carry the ball through a hole. Bills lumbers through only to be met by Kevin Capps, who stops him, picks him up and drives his shoulder blades into the ground with all the ferocity befitting a person dubbed “Micro-He-Man.” Kevin Capps is 5-7 and weighs 165 pounds.

“I love hitting,” Capps says. “Once I hit a guy, I want to hit him again. I even like getting hit.”

Lest Capps appear a maniac, be assured he is a well-mannered young man who is well-endowed with athletic ability. He will be La Habra’s starting tailback this season. He’s quick on his feet and off. One of the highlights of each practice is Kevin Capps performing his running flip, a la Ozzie Smith, in full football gear.

The evening practice progresses much more smoothly than the morning session. It probably owes a lot to the cool weather, which also attracts a number of joggers to the track circling the practice field. Pick-up soccer and softball games start nearby and kids on bikes ride in and take off on the track.

“Ah, La Habra at night,” waxes team trainer Mark Brisby. “It’s a wonderland.”

It resembles as much as players walk off the field, tired but happy. They laugh and talk easily. It’s over. Another day of running and sweating and hitting and yelling and being yelled at, and it’s all over--that is, until 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.