At USD, Low Voltage Not Lowlights : AS THEY LIKE IT

Three weeks ago, midway through the first quarter of a University of San Diego football game, the lights went out.

Too many light standards in the parking lot adjoining the stadium had been left on and the circuit breakers were overloaded.

Obviously, USD runs a low-voltage football program . . . and that is exactly the way the folks up in Alcala Park want it to be.

USD football is cozy, sort of a cross between a family picnic and an office party.

The public address announcer, for example, is not at all reminiscent of the terse, almost monotonous style usually associated with stadium announcers.

“Say fans!” announcer Jackson Muecke will say during a timeout. “There couldn’t be a better time to visit Mom’s Nutrition Paradise, located on the mezzanine level of the stadium.”

Ignoring the fact that “Mom’s Nutrition Paradise” is a concession stand and that there is no mezzanine level, Muecke continues: “Tonight’s special at Mom’s: a mouth-watering cup of Coca-Cola and and a tube steak (hot dog). Yes folks, the coke and tube steak combo, guaranteed to give you indigestion by halftime.”

It sounds more like a script from “Saturday Night Live,” but it’s loved at USD.

“Oh, this announcer is good,” said John White, who like most of the non-students in the stands, has a son on the USD team. “It’s funny to listen to him.”

Throughout each home game, Muecke entertains Torero followers with his “accurate and to-the-point style.”

“There’s a first down for U S D” he says. “And, they’ll mark that ball at the 21 and three-quarter yard line.”

Brian Fogarty probably does not hear Muecke. He has other things to do, though, as USD head coach.

Fogarty came to USD in 1983, determined to keep the spirit of Division III football. He didn’t want to go big time, just keep things comfortable, have some fun and win some football games.

“I don’t know if I would stay around here if we tried to advance to Division II,” Fogarty said. “I like it the way it is. No scholarships and the kids have to work for everything they get.”

So far, USD is 4-2.

“It’s great to watch these kids give it their all and realize that they’re not getting anything out of it,” said Joe Muklevicz, whose son plays for USD. “They don’t get any scholarships but they still work just as hard.”

There are other differences besides an unorthodox P.A. announcer and the fact that players are without scholarships.

For one, the home locker room is located at the top of the stands. At halftime, both teams climb the stairs among the spectators. Imagine Bo Schembechler or Lou Holtz leading their teams through the stands.

This is Division III football, which is downright informal.

USD’s locker rooms, for example, aren’t big enough for all of the players. So before the game, a player or two will usually be sprawled in the parking lot getting his ankles taped.

The press box at Torero Stadium is located at the 50-yard line. A telephone pole sits directly in front of the sidelines at the 50-yard line.

“You get used to looking around it,” said Ted Gosen, sports information director.

The arrangement in the press box? A bit different as well.

Gosen works as part of a two-man staff doing statistics and making popcorn in the machine he and his wife received as a wedding gift last year.

Right next door, the USD coaches sit and relay plays to Fogarty on the field. This is not unusual, but it is unusual that the press is so close it would know what plays are coming . . . if it could understand the nomenclature.

Yes, Torero Stadium is intimate.

It rises, if “rises” is really appropriate, on only the north side of the field, hidden between a couple of small hills and hardly visible from the nearby street.

The stands, with aluminum bench seating, are located close to the field.

The fans are close, too.

In a recent game, USD punter Pat McNamara had a punt go off the side of his foot.

“Nice shank,” somebody yelled, loud and clear.

The scoreboard is located at the stadium’s west end. Supported by two poles, just to the left of the goal posts, the scoreboard provides only the most basic information: yards to go, down, score, quarter, time.

Who needs more, particularly with Muecke at the microphone.

And the scoreboard is on its own circuit breaker. When the lights went out two weeks ago, the scoreboard stayed on.

Of course, there is no such thing as being too small to have fun. Fans get into these occasions. One group started meeting before Saturday home games four years ago.

White and Muklevicz, both fathers of freshmen players, started the tradition.

They meet about an hour-and-a-half before kickoff to eat, drink, and talk.

“About anything but football,” Muklevicz said.

The group has had as many as 200 members, but most of the time about 25 people are involved. Most have sons playing on the team.

“We’re always looking for other parents to join our group,” White said. “It’s a lot of fun.”

On this occasion, this group was hardly pressed for space.

Why?

Students don’t tailgate at the stadium. Alcohol isn’t allowed on campus, so most pregame parties are held at Tecolote Park.

“We like the lot to ourselves,” Muklevicz said. “I used to go to college games at Giants Stadium and people would have their tailgate parties catered. But this is better. You know everybody.”

And everybody is required to contribute.

“I was just walking into the stadium one night and they asked me join them,” said Maureen King, whose son, David, is in his first year at USD. “Now, I’m in charge of the spare ribs.”

As game time approaches, people in the parking lot can hear Muecke introducing the starting lineups.

“Let’s go grab a seat,” White says.

Then, to a newcomer, he says: “There are no reserved seats here, you know. And, since the team has been winning this year, we’ve had to arm wrestle to get good seats.”

It’s halftime. Before reminding everybody to visit Mom’s, Muecke has a trivia question.

“OK everybody, it’s time for our weekly jackpot quiz question,” he says. “The jackpot is somewhere in the millions now.

“What player in the National Football League wears the largest pair of shoes? (He makes a buzz sound after absolutely no pause). Time’s up. I’m sorry. Nobody wins this week.

“The answer--the player with the largest feet.”

White’s group returns to the parking lot, and Muklevicz muses: “I don’t know of anywhere else you can tailgate at halftime.”