Life in Football’s Minors: It’s 3rd and Very Long

The uniforms looked like the San Diego Chargers’, with lightning bolts on the helmets and pants. The punter seemed familiar; he was Hassan Aboulhosn, veteran of tryouts with the Washington Redskins, San Francisco 49ers and Philadelphia Eagles. But, clearly, this was not a National Football League venue. Who were those guys wearing lightning bolts? And what of the opposition in the Columbia blue jerseys? Definitely too big to be the Columbia football team. Last year, the team in blue won a game, 102-0.

As Saturday evening approached, it was almost time for minor league football on the outskirts of Washington, the Virginia Storm versus the Chesapeake Bay Neptunes, in Prince William County, Va. You may have heard of the Neptunes’ ancestors, the Norfolk Neptunes. In the 1970s, Otis Sistrunk was a defensive tackle for the Oakland Raiders, but before that he was a Norfolk Neptune. Occasionally, although the NFL said it does not keep such statistics, a player leaps to the big time from among the 20,000 players of some 500 minor and semi-pro teams across the country. In pro football hinterlands, Otis Sistrunk is a patron saint.

In and around Washington, minor league teams abound. Who would know it with all the talk about the Redskins, and college ball? Who has heard of District of Columbia’s own Metro Buccaneers, who play at Theodore Roosevelt High? Prince William has its Storm. In Maryland, the Frederick Falcons and Baltimore Rams have been playing for years. The minors are stocked with gifted athletes, some even stars from where they came. To many, reaching the end zone can hold the faint but compelling promise of future grandeur and not just six points.

The football team’s president, its general manager and two assistant coaches sat in the little bleachers, talking to a visitor. The players were showing up for practice, by ones and twos. A truck driver. A policeman. A young player, riding up on a bike. Then: “There’s the guy we were talking about.” The quarterback had driven up and was walking toward the field.

They laughed. “We told you he was big.”

William Brockenberry would have blotted out the sun, except it was night-dark and drizzly. Brockenberry is a 6-foot-5, 260-pound security guard for Zayre with a dream of becoming an NFL player. He plays for the Metro Buccaneers, the best little-known football team in the city. The Buccaneers, as do the other area teams, belong to the Continental Interstate Football League, whose motto is “A Second Chance!” Brockenberry had a tryout with the Indianapolis Colts in May. He would welcome a second chance with any NFL team. Any position, too.

“We call him ‘Refrigerator,’ ” said Jimmy Thomas, who helped found the Metro Buccaneers. (At the time, Thomas owned 60 pairs of football pants. He became the Buccaneers’ president.)

If the William (Refrigerator) Perry, can run from the backfield, why can’t a “Refrigerator” be a quarterback?

Under the lights at Kelly Miller Junior High in Northeast Washington one night recently, Brockenberry threw a ball through the mist about as far as his heroes, Dan Fouts and Doug Williams, can, and William Wall, a 6-5, 245-pound tight end who once played for the Washington Federals of the U.S. Football League, ran under the pass, reached out and caught it. They’re a Washington connection few know about, but they help sustain a proud tradition. The Buccaneers once stopped a Chambersburg Cardinals winning streak at 63.

“The guys on the team kid me, they say the Redskins had to go all the way down to New Orleans to get Doug Williams--that’s where he’s from, Louisiana--and they had one right here,” said Brockenberry.

A former Elizabeth City State standout, Brockenberry is said to be elusive for his size--he can evade tacklers, stiff-arm them if he has to and get out of the pocket. From the way he looks in an old white No. 12 practice jersey, he undoubtedly stars as a security guard as well, deterring wrongdoing by his mere presence.

But it’s tough to work and play football. It’s even tougher being on the Buccaneers because a player might even have to pay to play. He might have to get up fare for the team bus, and he can’t expect a single free meal on a road trip. “The problem is,” said Thomas, “we don’t have a sponsor.”

“The average person”--a would-be sponsor--”wants to know what he’s going to get out of it,” said Robert Hunter, an assistant coach.

“If we were able to pay the players’ way to a game--not stay overnight, but just the bus--and give them a meal, pay for the tape and medical supplies, that would be the ideal situation,” said John Vaughn, the coach.

“You don’t see anybody out here drinking, smoking or shooting drugs,” said Vaughn, who arrived at practice in shirt and tie, straight from work. He is the clinic manager of a drug-treatment facility in the District of Columbia. “This is a healthy activity. They are 50, 60, 70 guys taking an interest in this.”

They play six home games at Roosevelt on Saturday nights. But they draw fans only in the hundreds, so they don’t make ends meet on $4 tickets. In contrast, teams representing towns--Frederick, Chambersburg, the Neptunes of Virginia Beach--are more of a focus of their communities and draw better. Still, the Buccaneers offer players and their following a share in their love for the game.

Arriving for practice the other night, a player wearily put on his cleats: “I’ve been up since 3 a.m.”

Hunter: “See what I was saying. It’s hard when you’re working.”

Thomas: “But if you see the way they play, you wouldn’t believe it.”

A man stopped by and begged for a uniform, which includes the white helmet with the Buccaneers’ insignia on the sides, but Thomas laughed him off, saying, “You can only handle the sticks.”

With the USFL in limbo and college admissions tightening, Vaughn expects more players who might be interested in competing at this level.