George Allen Is Licking His Fingers About Over-the-(Signal)-Hill Gang

Spring football practice opens at a learning academy called Cal State Long Beach, and George Herbert Allen, soon to turn 72, is directing his forces on the way to making the world forget Stagg.

The late Amos Alonzo Stagg coached at Pacific at an age more advanced than Allen’s.

But it is George’s understanding that Stagg’s son mostly ran the operation, meaning that George, who is getting no help, takes his position as the oldest full-time football coach in the fabled history of the Big West Conference.

This is a distinction one isn’t sure one envies, but like pure love, in which one can see beauty where others can’t, Allen experiences satisfaction in his new undertaking.

The indestructible spirit of George is impressive. When he takes the job at Cal State Long Beach, his wife announces he is a candidate for the chuckle farm.

His son, Bruce, confides it would be more believable if George drank.

But his last drink may have been in Washington in the company of quarterbacks Sonny Jurgensen and Billy Kilmer, once known to ask the bartender to leave the bottle on the counter. Proving he is one of the guys, a dashing George orders a blackberry brandy.

Billy says to him, “Why don’t you go crazy and have a sherry flip?”

As coach of amateurs, George last serves at Whittier College, where he has no budget for assistants. For Jerry Burns, now head coach of the Minnesota Vikings, he promotes $850, plus free lunches in the cafeteria. The rest of the staff, at no pay, consists of a construction worker, a high school principal and a used-car dealer.

George would then embark upon a mad adventure in pro football, beginning as assistant coach of the Rams. Fired, he opens a carwash in San Fernando Valley, announcing he wants to get into something clean.

Then he goes to the Bears as an assistant coach, returning to the Rams as head coach, only to be fired from that post. The following week, the Rams rehire him.

Fired again by the Rams, he shifts to the Redskins, who fire him, arranging for the Rams to hire him again and fire him again. They do this after only two exhibition games, indicating the Rams have gone whacko, considering that George, during all his years in the NFL, never has a losing season.

Now launching 20 days of spring practice at Cal State Long Beach, George tells you grimly he must open on Sept. 1 against Clemson.

“It doesn’t figure to be one of my happiest openers,” he groans. “But we have collected a lot of new players, who, given a little time, are going to be all right.”

“How does an outfit such as yours get players?” George is asked.

“We lose a lot of decisions to USC, UCLA, Washington, Cal, Colorado, Fresno State and the two Arizonas,” he replies. “But we land a few, too. We stole one from Washington State, one from Hawaii and another from Arizona State.”

“What are you able to offer?” he is asked.

“We can offer tuition, room and board and our blessings. But we’re working on a support group in Long Beach to help us with new uniforms, improved locker facilities, and, we hope, a training table.”

One backer is said to be Cal Worthington, who is rich in Fords and Dodges, but is forbidden from giving them to George’s prospects. Worthington has a slogan on TV, though, that could stimulate any athletic program: “If you’re looking for a deal, go see Cal.”

“What are some of the rules you impose on your players?” Allen is asked.

“Well, we don’t sit on helmets. We don’t litter. We don’t report late for practice and meetings. We don’t let our jerseys hang out. Moving from one drill to another, we don’t walk. We jog. And, if we’re lucky enough to score, we won’t remonstrate.”

When Wendell Tyler, a running back from UCLA, was playing in the NFL, he was knocked by a coach one time for praying in the end zone. Allen observed quietly: “At least he prays in a good place.”

A feeling grows that if someone from Allen’s team scores, and makes a scene, George will be tolerant.

In the 41 years of its existence, Cal State Long Beach has played in only one postseason game, something called the Pasadena Bowl, in 1970. It was matched against Louisville.

Apparently, teams from Louisville run a mile and a quarter better than they play bowl games. Louisville was tied, 24-24, by Cal State Long Beach, comforted today by the thought it is still in business while the Pasadena Bowl isn’t.