These Guys Play Football Just for Fun

Offended by a third weekend of mercenary football?

Bitter about the 23-day players strike?

Long for a return to real, honest-to-goodness football?

Step this way. Innocence awaits.

Thursday evening at Fred Kelly Stadium . . .

Rod Hust stands near midfield, arms folded, staring ahead as his Canyon High School team readies itself for the night’s game against the much-favored Santa Ana Saints. He has the look of every sergeant you have ever seen in a World War II B movie: intense, broad-shouldered, a hint of stubble. You keep waiting for him to yell, “All right, you good-for-nothing mama’s boys, Lieutenant says we’re moving out. So move it!!”

But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands in the thick, damp grass and wonders whether his newly installed offense, the one designed to confuse Santa Ana with numerous formation shifts and quick-hitting plays, will work. Or whether Canyon’s defensive front, altered to stop Santa Ana’s running game, will succeed.

“It’s going to be an uphill struggle,” Hust says. “We’re a little bit undermanned.”

Bands play in the background. Cheerleaders, their saddle shoes freshly shined, prepare for two hours of smiling. Both teams begin calisthenics.

Hust is most concerned about two Santa Ana players, George Tuioti and Robert Lee. Tuioti, who is 6-feet 3-inches tall and weighs 210 pounds, is the Saint man-child quarterback/linebacker who wears an earring and multicolored Lycra spandex sweats and probably began shaving when he was 6. He is as thick as a beer keg, but much, much faster. Soon he will wear a major-college football uniform.

Lee is best remembered for his frequent trips up and down the field during last year’s game against Canyon. Lee, it seems, isn’t fond of being tackled. No reason to think his mood has changed.

Santa Ana finishes its pregame routine first. The Saints jog to their locker room, followed by their coaches, who wear snazzy personalized windbreakers. Several minutes later, Hust motions for his team to head for the cramped concrete box that is Canyon’s locker room.

There on the locker room blackboard is a message:

Up Tempo Football

Every Play

Nobody Bails Tonight.

“Shut your eyes and think about that for a second,” says Steve (Blade) Sabins, an assistant coach.

The Canyon players, about 60 of them, immediately close their eyes. Hust paces and lectures.

“We don’t get to play teams like this very often,” he says. “They’re CIF finalists. We will not have many opportunities to put the ball in the end zone. We have to take advantage of those opportunities.”

As Hust talks, Vince Scheerer, a lineman, bangs his head against the blackboard. Quarterback Joe Furukawa adjusts his Taco Bell headband. The letter A on defensive tackle Will Ruvalcaba’s jersey, held on by a piece of masking tape, begins to slip off.

“Listen,” says Hust, his voice rising, “you’ve got to let the whole league know that Canyon High School is not going to let what happened last week (a 33-6 loss to Orange) ever happen again. You get to face one of the best teams tonight. I don’t want to leave this field tonight, regardless of the score, and think that we did this all for nothing. If the score’s 110-0, I don’t care, just as long as we did our best out there.”

Players cheer. After a brief team prayer, they sprint onto the field. Meanwhile, for the first time in four years, Hust decides he will direct his team from atop the stadium press box. “Just to try something different,” he says.

FIRST QUARTER

Santa Ana is driving--again. Hust, wearing headphones and holding a clipboard, bangs his pencil against a restraining rail as the Saints’ Lee breaks two tackles and falls forward for a first down.

“Blade, get (defensive back Danny) Hooker in right now and get (Kevin) Emerson out and talk to him,” says Hust to Sabins, who is down on the field. “In fact, I need to talk to Emerson. (A pause as Emerson takes his helmet off and puts on the headphones.) Kevin Emerson, we cannot win this football game if you have your head in the clouds.”

Emerson nods emphatically and soon returns to the game. Doesn’t matter. Santa Ana scores on a short run with 8:08 remaining in the period. The Santa Ana band plays, “When the Saints Come Marching In.”

“We had the right call,” Hust says. “That should have never happened.”

On Canyon’s first offensive play, Furukawa drops back for a pass. “It’s open! It’s open!” yells Hust into the microphone.

But then Furukawa rolls out of the pocket and his pass is intercepted. Hust is furious. “Ask him why he went out of the pocket,” he says.

The Canyon cheerleaders regroup. “OK, we’re back on defense . . .”

Several plays later, Tuioti scores on a bootleg. Santa Ana 14, Canyon 0.

“This is the longest first quarter I’ve seen,” Hust says.

SECOND QUARTER

Canyon’s motion offense is showing signs of life. A first down here, a first down there. “If we can just keep calm, we’ll be all right,” Hust says. “(Santa Ana) is definitely confused.”

Canyon drives close enough to miss a 34-yard field goal.

But Lee fumbles on Santa Ana’s first play and Canyon recovers at the Saint 18. The Comanches move to the Santa Ana 8 when a fan yells to Hust, “Get in the game, Coach!”

Fourth and one at the three. “Should we go for a TD or go for a field goal?” Hust says. “Let’s go for it.”

Furukawa scores. “Way to go Rod, baby. Way to go,” says defensive coordinator Chuck Wood.

Hust is pleased. His team has remained close. But then, with less than two minutes remaining in the half, Santa Ana moves quickly down the field. “I don’t know why I do this,” Hust says. “I could be teaching history, just watching the games.”

With 30 seconds left, Tuioti throws to the right corner of the Canyon end zone. “Nobody’s there,” mutters Hust. Santa Ana touchdown. Score: 21-7.

HALFTIME

A trainer hands Hust a cup of coffee. Hust is getting ready to take a sip when Steve Torres, a tight end, stops him. “Coach, uh, that coffee’s for my mouthpiece,” he says.

Hust gives Torres the coffee. He doesn’t see Torres, who needs the hot coffee to soften his new mouthpiece, dunk the plastic into the cup.

“Our half! Our half!” yells a player.

“It’s comeback time!” says another.

THIRD QUARTER

It is not a time for comebacks, but for blunders. David Lara calls for a fair catch on the second-half kickoff . . . and then runs with the ball. Penalty.

Later, when Hust is getting ready to call a quick kick, the better to pin Santa Ana deep in its own territory, his phones go dead. Still, Canyon’s defense prevents Santa Ana from scoring.

And, by the way, Emerson makes a nice play on a Santa Ana scoring attempt.

FOURTH QUARTER

Fourth and three at the Santa Ana 45. About 10 minutes remain. “Let’s go for it,” Hust says. “If they bite on it, it’s a nice play. If they don’t, it’s first and 10 Santa Ana.”

It’s first and 10 Santa Ana.

Several plays later, Tuioti passes again to the right corner of the end zone. “Pass, pass, pass . . . oh, no. (Touchdown.) That’s not a bad play,” Hust says.

Santa Ana kicks off. Canyon returns the ball. Hust, the optimist, says, “We didn’t fair catch it this time, at least.”

As time runs down, Hust returns to the field. “This is what I was afraid of,” he says sadly.

On the last play of the game, Canyon scores on a touchdown pass. Final: 27-13.

“Go shake their hands,” Hust says.

Afterward, Hust assembles his team. He allows a half-smile.

“You guys worked hard tonight,” he says. “I’m proud of you. See you tomorrow.”

Hust walks slowly off the field. Nothing to be ashamed about, though. It beats what they’re playing in the NFL.