Diablos’ LeBreton on the Field: ‘I’d Be Honored to Smash You, Sir’

There’s a certain charm in the way Beau LeBreton speaks to strangers.

“Yes, ma’am,” LeBreton, a Mission Viejo defensive end, says in his slight Texas drawl. “Thank you, ma’am,” and so on. You half expect him to bow before he excuses himself.

Such niceties aren’t expected from a 17-year-old who’s so intense on the football field that the Tasmanian Devil looks like a wimp by comparison.

His mother, Suzy Lundahl, says it’s all part of his natural charm.

“Beau has never met a stranger--he assumes everyone is his friend,” Lundahl said. “His second-grade teacher said, ‘I have never met such a natural-born politician. Beau can’t cross the room to sharpen his pencil without saying “Hi, how ya doin’?” or seeing if someone else wants their pencil sharpened.’ ”

Friday night against El Toro, Beau observed no niceties. His tremendously aggressive play (three sacks, a tipped pass) helped Mission Viejo defeat El Toro, 21-9.

Asked about his objective for the game, Beau turned serious.

“They had the top-rated quarterback in the county, ma’am,” he said. “That’s what we keyed on, that’s what we had to stop.”

While El Toro’s Rob Johnson, the quarterback in question, wasn’t shut down totally--he completed 16 of 31 passes for 215 yards--he was snuffed at critical moments.

With El Toro trailing, 21-9, with less than six minutes left, Johnson faced a third and six on the Mission Viejo 17. LeBreton tipped Johnson’s pass, and the fans at Mission Viejo High School went crazy.

El Toro Coach Bob Johnson called a timeout--his team was going for the score. The plan was for Rob Johnson to hook up with any of four receivers in the end zone.

The timeout ended, and Bob Johnson jogged off the field with his fists clenched and held up to his chest, a la Rocky Balboa. He gazed skyward--or at least toward the upper bleachers. His expression was of hope, faith and please, God, I’ll do anything for a touchdown here.

But Beau was ready. Rob Johnson took the snap, and Beau snapped through the offensive line, slamming Johnson to the ground. The El Toro players on the sidelines hung their heads in disappointment. The El Toro fans began to leave.

Mission Viejo was elated.

“This was the best game ever for me,” LeBreton said while wrapping his mother in a bear hug. (Unlike El Toro’s players, Beau’s mom escaped without bruises).

LeBreton said he considers El Toro the easiest game to get psyched for because there are negative vibes between the schools.

“For me, it seems to all be in the helmets,” he said. “I’m staring across the line, and all I see are the colors in their helmets. . . . El Toro definitely gets me pumped up. It’s a hate-type of thing. It’s really wild. It’s something. I mean you look at their helmets, you see the colors, and you see El Toro, you see the stickers and the stripes on the sides. . . . I don’t know, it just sets me off.”

Beau wanted to wrap up his postgame interview lickety-split.

“Ma’am, is it all right if I go now? You know, ma’am, my friends and I went to celebrate. OK? Thank you, ma’am.”

He ran off, jumping on every teammate along the way.

Night of the Living Dead, El Toro style? Aside from the early moments of each half, El Toro seemed listless Friday night.

And the Charger fans? Well, you know you’re in trouble when the players practically beg for more vocal support from the crowd, as several did during the fourth quarter.

The El Toro players started getting on each other as well.

“C’mon, man!” Brooks Loughry, an El Toro reserve lineman, shouted at his grim-looking teammates. “You guys are dead!”

Or at least in shock. That was the preferred theory from Mission Viejo players who enjoyed pointing out that the Chargers’ season-long No. 1 ranking might have gone to their heads.

“They were so big on themselves,” Mission Viejo’s Marcellus Chrishon said. “I feel like they were stunned.”

Said LeBreton: “One thing I noticed was they didn’t have a lot of poise out there. They had letdowns, and Rob was yelling at the offensive line and stuff. At that point, you just have to suck it up, show poise, not let things get you down.”

El Toro tailback Bret Sanders admitted it probably was a case of inflated confidence.

“I just feel we became complacent--we were 8-0, and we got used to winning,” Sanders said. “Before the Capo Valley game, we were so fired up. But (for Mission Viejo), I don’t think the intensity level was there in practice this week.”

El Toro fans bled blue and gold after the loss, but the defeat was especially painful for Charger senior Danny Maestas.

Maestas, who injured a knee early in the season, then reinjured it two weeks ago against Irvine, watched from the sideline in a wheelchair. A six-hour surgery to reconstruct his anterior cruciate ligament was completed just three hours before game time. A banner reading “We you Danny” hung on the bleachers behind Maestas, who wore his letterman’s jacket and a blue-and-gold blanket.

“This is really, really tough,” said Maestas, a bit dazed from the painkillers doctors prescribed for him to take every hour. “I really wanted to be out there.”

The grass is always be greener on the other side--especially if you’re from Newport Harbor.

Newport Harbor’s Davidson Field was in fine condition at the beginning of the season, but lately, a large section of the midfield has turned brown. Theories abound as to how and why.

Newport Harbor Athletic Director Eric Tweit classifies the situation as a mystery of whodunit proportions.

“Everyone’s pointing fingers at everyone else,” Tweit said. “No one will officially say anything.”

Add Newport Harbor: The Sailors played their homecoming game Thursday night and defeated Woodbridge, 25-0.

As in most homecomings, the elegantly dressed and coiffured princesses were driven around the stadium track while being introduced to the fans at halftime.

Their mode of transportation? Harley Davidson motorcycles.

Two weeks ago, comments on sportsmanship--or lack of it--were made in this column. One issue touched upon was the tremendous amount of profanity used on the sidelines.

It was mentioned that Mater Dei Coach Bruce Rollinson--who seems to be one of the worst offenders in the county--could be introduced to a few alternate words to express his anger.

Mater Dei’s response? All reporters have been banned from their sideline, except for the final five minutes of a game.

Apparently, Mater Dei’s philosophy comes down to this: See no evil, hear no evil, but speak any &!$%!!!! way you wish.