Performances Had Some Rough Spots

Full-contact basketball, a sport for the ‘90s, was the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions Saturday on the last and longest day of the California State high school tournament.

Scenes from a maul:

Estancia High forward Mike Haas walks off the court, looking for ways to celebrate a Division III triumph over Fremont Washington, and the first thing that hits him is a right hook from a frustrated Husky fan.

Brea-Olinda’s Ladycats, retracing their 1990 trail of tears back to Oakland, reclaim the championship they lost last year and collapse into a pile of hugs, kisses and playful body-slams as the final buzzer sounds on an eight-point victory over Hayward Moreau.

Tustin’s maniac press, basically a rugby scrum on hardwood, finds a referee team with strong stomachs and weak lungs--no whistles while they work--which is all the Tillers need to fold, spindle and mutilate San Ramon Valley of Danville into submission in the Division II final.

Saturday’s sweep by Orange County teams--three in, three win--was impressive, and it was unprecedented, but by no means was it clean. Bodies were strewn all over the floor of the Oakland Coliseum Arena. Finesse was shown the door, and those who refused to bruise stood to lose.

By this count, there were two official muggings--one after a game (Haas) and another during one (San Ramon Valley).

Haas, a 6-1 senior, is as cocksure as they come, which is good for his basketball and not-so-good for his popularity. Even his coach, Tim O’Brien, bristles--to the point of issuing two suspensions in two seasons. “He’s the epitome of a high school senior,” says O’Brien. “He thinks he can take on the world.”

Or, on this day, just the Washington basketball team and its rooting section.

After scoring a game-high 27 or 28 points--more on that in a bit--Haas exited to a chorus of taunts from Washington students around the arena tunnel. “They were giving me flak,” Haas said. “They were saying, ‘He can’t shoot ‘the three.’ ”

In America, this is known as Dogging Haas. Or, in Sweden, Daagen Haas. I scream, you scream.

It all would have been worth a last laugh until Haas pointed to his jersey--Estancia, No. 1--and a Husky fan decided to prove a theory about the relativity of actions and words and smacked Haas upside the left temple. The fan then ran, which was good for him, with the assault limited to one punch to the head, which was good for Haas. “He probably didn’t feel a thing,” O’Brien quipped.

Haas answered a few questions from security guards but basically shrugged off the incident. “That was weak,” he said. “There’s no need for that. They should have been happy just to be here.”

Haas was the victim, but not for the first time Saturday. He also had a three-point field goal taken away when the official scorer noted the basket but credited him with only two points. O’Brien protested, and play was interrupted in an attempt to correct the error, but the scorer stood with the decision, making him a minority of one in 2,000.

“At the time, we were up by 15, so I decided not to push it,” O’Brien said. “But as (Washington) got closer, that point began to balloon by a power of 10. I was going, ‘Ay, yi, yi. . . .’ ”

Tustin uncovered a different way to tinker with scoring totals in its joust with San Ramon Valley.

Beat ‘em to the shot by beating ‘em before they shoot.

The Tillers trailed by nine points at halftime, due in large part to a miserable, out-of-sync, six-point second quarter. “We weren’t letting the game come to us,” said Tustin guard David Beilstein. Translation: Tustin was being too nice out there--and you know where those kinds of guys finish.

In case of emergency, break out the press. And that’s what Tiller Coach Tom McCluskey did, for lack of a better term. To call the Tustin defensive thrust “a press” is to call the atomic bomb “an explosive.” No blood, no foul originated here. Dressed like Darth Vader’s gym class, the black-splashed-with-crimson Tillers reach, grab, bump, check, elbow and occasionally tackle.

If they hear no whistle, they usually win.

“We have a mentality,” McCluskey says, “where we play as the refs let us play.”

Let them play? A lot of teams know how to control the tempo of a game, but that only means influencing the opposition. McCluskey’s Tillers might be the first to get the referees to play their tempo as well.

Tustin’s Black Rain fell again and again on the Wolves, forcing six turnovers in the first nine minutes of the third quarter to pull the Tillers even at 36-36. “If the refs aren’t going to call it,” Beilstein said, summarizing Tiller philosophy, “we’re going to go for it.”

And then Tustin pulled away, winning by eight while committing six second-half fouls. San Ramon Valley, over the same stretch, was whistled for 13.

“I thought the refereeing was great,” McCluskey said. “It was the best we’ve had all year, without a doubt.”

Meanwhile, the mini-dynasty in Brea continues to plug along--excelling, in odd-numbered years, like Bret Saberhagen. Mark Trakh’s Ladycats won the state title in ‘89, suffered crushing defeat in the final in ’90 and got back on Trakh in ’91 with a wire-to-wire victory over Moreau.

How crushing was ‘90?

“It was a zero,” Brea guard Jody Anton said, cringing at the recollection. “It was terrible, a nightmare. We were all screaming, like we were in a nightmare.”

That loss, to underdog Auburn Placer, ended a 55-game winning streak for the Ladycats, but it also gave Trakh a motivational hook for the 1990-91 season, which he would call “a rebuilding year.”

What’s your definition of rebuilding?

Trakh’s is 33-1.

“The kids didn’t like it,” Trakh conceded. “They were insulted by it. But it got the crowd back into it--they thought we were an underdog. Last year, the pressure got to us. This year, it didn’t.”

And next year? Brea returns four of five starters, including two tournament-tested freshmen--point guard Nicole Erickson and forward Sarah Beckley.

“We’re still young,” Trakh said, already plotting. “And we’re losing a great player in (senior) Jinelle Williams.”

McCluskey and O’Brien were also making plans, toward a more immediate future, when they return home with Division II and III trophies in hand. Longtime friends--McCluskey succeeded O’Brien as head coach at Tustin--they are teammates on a rec-league team in Laguna Beach and now have something new to discuss during timeouts, just as soon as O’Brien’s broken hand heals.

“I was going for a steal, and I cracked a knuckle,” O’Brien said, explaining the cast that adorns his left wrist.

It was that kind of day, it was that kind of tournament. Here, even the coaches get physical.