A Coach’s Duties Can Get Dirty

Ah, coaching. What a vocation. Inspiring youngsters to strive for the best. Instilling skills and strategies and self-esteem. Developing bodies and minds for the next generation . . .

And cleaning locker-room toilets at the end of the day?

Yes, The Coach As Ty-D-Bol Man exists in Orange County schools because of recent cuts in area athletic budgets. Along with trimming equipment allowances, coaching stipends and transportation budgets, some county schools have eliminated custodial services, leaving coaches to do the dirty work--and then some.

“It’s just a mess,” Anaheim Athletic Director Dan Miller said.

That’s an understatement. Today’s coaches are already overburdened with noncoaching endeavors--academic checks, insurance screening, public relations and more. Sybil should have known so many roles.

“Because of the cuts, we lost our equipment man, and it just destroyed our program,” Miller said. “They took away two custodians and now the coaches are the ones having to sweep, clean and mop. We’ve had to make all sorts of adjustments.”

It’s the common cry of county athletic directors. With school budgets being squeezed like an old tube of toothpaste, sports programs are being cut up in topiary fashion. But this scene isn’t pretty.

At Brea-Olinda, longtime boys’ soccer Coach Manny Toledo resigned last week because of the extra burdens as the school’s equipment manager. One of the county’s winningest soccer coaches, Toledo said he couldn’t handle combining coaching with all the extra cleaning chores he had because the school’s night janitor had been reassigned.

Toledo, who for 10 years ran a 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. off-season soccer class at Brea without pay, said he was also frustrated by the school’s decision to eliminate two of his program’s five coaching stipends.

“For 10 years you work very hard,” Toledo said. “You put in all that extra time for free, but when things get tough they forget all that.”

Down the hall, Steve Hiskey resigned last week as Brea’s athletic director after deciding he had to choose between what always seemed to be two full-time jobs: athletic director and fund-raiser for his varsity baseball program.

“I decided if the program’s going to run the way I want it to run, I’m going to have to spend time raising money,” said Hiskey, whose baseball teams were Orange League champions the past two years. “I couldn’t do both.”

At Orange, Athletic Director Dave Zirkle recalls the old days when, as a coach, all he had to do was ask for equipment and the school granted his wish. Now, because of budget cuts two years ago, he’s telling his coaches to watch every penny.

The Panther football team once sent its dirty uniforms to a cleaning service. Now an old on-campus washer and dryer spins away the sweat and grime all week long. Equipment orders are scrutinized carefully, and supplies, such as athletic training tape, have been limited to the very needy.

“If kids need tender loving care in the training room, we’re not quite so loving anymore,” Zirkle said.

To compensate for some of the losses, most schools resort to the Sport of the ‘90s: fund-raising. Just mention the word and coaches reach for the Rolaids.

In the old days, fund-raising meant asking your dad for your weekly allowance. Now fund-raising means bake sales, pizza sales, candy sales, cookie sales. It means raffles and auctions and casino nights and baseball card shows. It means painting street curbs for a price. It means begging and groveling. It means . . .

B-I-N-G-O

B-I-N-G-O

B-I-N-G-O

And BINGO is its name-oh!

Without bingo, many county sports programs wouldn’t exist. The same can be said for booster clubs. At Edison High, boosters fund up to 95% of all sports programs, Edison football Coach Dave White says. White believes booster groups might be the sports bank of the future--for all schools.

To some, this is a scary thought. Boosters are buddies when they’re raising money, but not when they’re trying to use their influence to question a coach’s game plan. Imagine having a megabooster tell you, ever-so-politely, that he’s ready to outfit the team for the next 10 years if you start his son, now the third-string quarterback.

Cleaning toilets never sounded so good.

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday and Sunday.