HIGHLANDER CHIEFTAIN : Irascible Darryl Stroh Maintains Order at Granada High With an Iron Fist and Winning Touch

For a man who says he’d just as soon throw himself off a tall building as call for the spotlight, Darryl Stroh manages to spend an inordinate amount of time center stage. And once there, who knows what might spew forth from his mouth in a heated rush--and whom he might offend.

He quietly claims he’d prefer to go along coaching high school football and baseball at Granada Hills High in modest anonymity, but when issues are raised and morality, discipline, working-class values, truth, motherhood, freedom and the American way are threatened, all hell breaks loose.

Here’s a sampling of some of Stroh’s fire-brewed comments in the past:

On coaching and discipline: “You must use discipline. I tell my players, ‘It’s my way or the highway.’ I like kids to handle themselves with class and keep their mouths shut. As a coach, you need quality time, you can’t be screwing around.”

On parenting: “It would be better if people stopped patting everybody on the head and telling them how great they are all the time. Parents shouldn’t try being their kids’ friends. They should love them, but be firm. Kids need direction. They don’t want so much a friend, they want somebody to show them the way.”

On grooming and appearance: “I hate long hair.”

On drug prevention: “I’ve taken more kids off drugs than all the English and math teachers in all of Los Angeles put together. I’d rather get a kid off drugs than win any game.”

On the quality of high school coaches: “There are some coaches that I wouldn’t want a son of mine to come near.”

If Stroh wasn’t so shy, he might not hide his convictions and sugar-coat his comments in such a drastic manner.

Of course, no one would care what the coach had to say if it wasn’t for the fact that his teams win so many games. For the record, since becoming baseball coach at Granada Hills in 1970, Stroh has whipped his teams to five City Section titles. From 1964 to ‘84, he worked as an assistant football coach--including a two-year stint as co-coach of B teams that went 17-0. Since becoming head football coach in 1985, Stroh has rolled up a record of 24-6-1, and he will lead the Highlanders into tonight’s City 4-A Division final against Carson.

Understanding Stroh and his impressive success as a coach is a complicated proposition. Depending upon what subject he’s discussing, his tones vary from those of a thundering dictator to those of a tired, worn-down man who barely can take it anymore. His outward appearance, especially in the presence of his players, is unmistakenly that of a no-nonsense Herrscher who would just as soon bite your face off as look at it. And it is his focus on discipline that players past and present say is the overriding factor in Stroh’s prosperity in baseball and football.

“He’s tough on us,” said quarterback Jeremy Leach, who has thrown for 2,492 yards and 32 touchdowns this season. “You never really hear too many good things from him. The good things you do, he expects you to do. Every once in a while, you get a compliment, but it’s rare.”

Said Sean Casey, a former baseball player who graduated in 1986: “I’d compare him to Mike Ditka--really calm at times, but, man, when you do something you shouldn’t, he’s capable of exploding.”

Drop a pass, miss a tackle and Stroh’s face turns cranberry red. Skip practice or disobey team rules and rapid nuclear fusion seemingly takes place in his head.

During his senior season, Casey was yanked aside, chewed out, sworn at and brought to a state of humility by a bursting Stroh all “because he thought I was getting a little cocky,” Casey said. “Sometimes, everybody thinks he hates their guts. There are no individuals on his teams. You do it his way.”

Yes, sir, or it’s the highway.

These rules are just a part of Stroh’s way: No long hair. No facial hair. No earrings. No staying out late. No wasting time. No messing up in the classroom. No drinking. No drugs. No chewing tobacco. No smoking. No back talk. No acting cocky. Above all, be good citizens and watch The Andy Griffith Show whenever possible.

“Discipline has always been important to me,” Stroh said. “It’s just a part of my personality. I can’t stand things out of order. I can’t stand chaos. I like things to run smoothly.

“I’m an imperfect perfectionist. It’s difficult for me to let little things slide.”

So he doesn’t.

Three years ago, Stroh discovered two of his baseball players had been drinking when a bottle of cheap wine fell out of a duffel bag after a game. He required the players to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings or face being kicked off the team. “It was real humiliating for them to have to go to those meetings,” Stroh said. “They were embarrassed. I did it to make a point. They wanted to play, so they had to attend.”

Two years ago, after giving his team a rousing halftime speech and leading his players back onto the field, Stroh blew up when he discovered that the cheerleaders were just winding down their routine and the band was barely beginning its own. He wildly waved for them to get off the gridiron. He couldn’t hold back, you understand, things were out of order.

Given the coach’s reputation, it wasn’t surprising when, after last weekend’s 55-6 playoff victory over Cleveland, Granada Hills players judiciously chose to dump a cooler of ice water on offensive coordinator Tom Harp. Everyone knew slopping cold water on Stroh would have been a baptism of fire.

Even though current players say the coach is harsh and vociferous, old-timer Dana Potter, who was named football co-player of the year in the City after the 1970 season, insists Stroh has mellowed. “They think he’s a disciplinarian now, but his outlook has drastically changed over the past 15 years,” Potter said. “Football used to be life and death to him. If you had one bad practice, he’d never forget it.”

Potter was the quarterback the last time Granada Hills played for the City championship--in 1970. Stroh was then the defensive coordinator under Jack Neumeier.

That year, the Highlanders faced an Anthony Davis-led San Fernando team, which had beaten them by 25 points during their first meeting, in the championship game. Said Potter: “After the first game, a photographer had taken a picture of Davis gesturing to our team. Anthony might say now he was gesturing that he was No. 1, but, uh, he was doing it with his middle finger.

“Darryl took exception to this, so he took the picture and put it up in the front of the bus and made all of us stare at it on our way to the championship game at Birmingham High.”

Prodded on by the inspirational gesture, Granada Hills won, 38-28.

“Darryl was wild back then,” Potter said. “He needed to calm down. He was headed for a heart attack.”

Stroh, 48, explains that the years have mellowed him, but in the same breath he says, “I don’t know that you change that much. The things that always bothered me, still bother me. I might not vocalize it as much. Maybe you run out of energy. Maybe I’m to the point where I’ve lost the battle too many times. I try not to let things upset me as much, maybe because I don’t want to croak.”

Nevertheless, Stroh carries the load not only of this year’s football team, but of every football and baseball team he’s ever coached. Strangely, not even moments of his greatest glory erase minute mistakes along the way.

The Granada Hills baseball team of 1978 is recognized by some as the best team in City history. Every Highlander starter went on to play college or professional baseball. The team won 22 of 23 games and eventually won the City title by beating Crenshaw, a team that featured Darryl Strawberry, now with the New York Mets, and Chris Brown, now playing for the San Diego Padres.

But for the life of him, Stroh to this day cannot get the one loss--to lowly Van Nuys--out of his mind. “We weren’t mentally prepared for that game,” he said. “We didn’t get in the game. You live to be 90 and you’ll sit in a rocking chair and kick yourself in the butt for that.”

Notably, the same demanding qualities that have driven Stroh to his success are the ones causing him the most pain--physically and mentally. His own set of principles are stronger than the flesh. Largely because of the stress that he feels as a coach, Stroh is currently suffering from a pinched nerve that has caused numbness in two fingers. In the past, he has had nerve problems in his neck, back and elbow. “Coaching affects my well-being,” he said. “I haven’t been able to get to the point where I care less.”

Leach says players on this year’s football team began worrying when Stroh stopped screaming at them after a disappointing 2-3 start. “If he stops yelling, it’s because he’s given up on you,” Leach said. “It means he doesn’t think you have the talent to do what he wants you to do. If he yells, you know you have a chance.”

In spite of--and maybe because of--all the coach’s disciplining and carrying-on, many of Stroh’s players become his close friends--after they graduate. Until then, the stern buzzard keeps them at a distance for fear of losing the master-disciple relationship necessary to “get the job done.”

As one player put it, “He was a pain in the butt, but we love him because he taught us the lessons of life. Almost all the players respect him because he cares about us.”

And the feeling is mutual, unless you miss too many tackles.

Perhaps the saddest thing about Stroh’s coaching career is that he is too preoccupied with game plans and players fulfilling their potential to enjoy his prosperity. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I haven’t allowed myself to enjoy it because I’m too concerned about the job the next day. I’ve always had the philosophy that you’re never as good as you could be.

“But now I’m trying to enjoy it more.”

That means he’s really having a ball, what with the Highlanders playing for their second City football title in 18 years Friday, right?

“I haven’t enjoyed this season,” Stroh said. “I told the team I’m not having any fun. We knew all along that we had a talented group so it’s hard to be satisfied. We’re playing well lately, but we have those three losses. . . . “

There is hope, however, according to former Granada baseball player Bob Allen.

In 1984, the Highlander baseball team won its fifth City championship under Stroh. Afterward, Allen said the team saw a different side of the coach. In a rare, proud, tender moment, Stroh broke down and showed a sign of appreciation for what his guys had accomplished.

A teardrop or two? A hug? Maybe an apology for riding them so hard?

“Nah,” Allen said. “It was weird. We’d never seen it. For the first time, he smiled.”