Familiarity Breeds Success on Foothill Coaching Staff

It’s lunchtime at the Foothill High School football office. Aside from a big bowl of stale popcorn, the only item around that remotely resembles lunch is the huge ham bone resting on Coach Tom Meiss’ desk.

The bone is in no way appetizing--it has been stripped, boiled down, painted black and adorned with the word “BONEHEAD” in gold ink. But Meiss, always on the lookout for good material, is eating it up.

“It’s our Bonehead Award--we got the idea from a coaching clinic,” Meiss says, taking the bone by its attached rope and swinging it thoughtfully. “See, if the kids make a mistake, they’d have to wear it. Or hang it on their lockers. . .

“ Or ,” Meiss says, shooting a mischievous smile at assistant coach Dick Hill, “one of the coaches could have to wear it.”

Hill nods and forces a chuckle. When you’ve been coaching together as long as Hill and Meiss have, you learn to appreciate each other’s humor--be it humorous or not.

Of course, no one ever said these two wanted to take over “The Tonight Show” or be the next Bartles and James guys. Their gig is football. After coaching on and off together at Savanna, Santa Ana Valley and Santa Ana high schools, Meiss, 51, and Hill, 64, have reunited once again. Foothill couldn’t be happier.

The Knights--who hadn’t made the playoffs in four years and were 2-7-1 last season--are 8-4 and will play Irvine Saturday in a Division IV semifinal. They upset third-seeded Riverside Poly, 23-21, in the first round, and Santa Margarita, 35-28, in last week’s quarterfinals. This from the program that once considered itself doomed by declining enrollment.

It isn’t a difficult situation to assess. Meiss has turned around programs before. In 1989, he led traditionally woeful Orange to the Division VIII championship game, a level the Panthers hadn’t achieved in 60 years.

And Hill? He’s merely the winningest prep football coach in Orange County history. He has coached for five decades and his teams have won four Southern Section titles. He’s a legend in polyester pants.

Their blend is something special. Meiss is a passionate motivator--and a football worrier. He spends hours writing philosophical sayings that hang on his office wall. He could find the meaning of life in a paper clip.

Hill is the man of few words. He’s unfailingly optimistic and would rather lose a game than his temper. When he speaks, it’s usually of his two favorite subjects--football and spirituality.

“We have a saying around here,” Meiss says. “ ‘(Assistant coach Dan) Stroup talks to the defense, I talk to the offense, and Dick talks to God.’ With all our miracles lately, who knows which it comes down to.”

Perhaps it’s that snazzy style of play-calling, something Meiss refers to as “aggressive selling.” It’s a coaching debate in action, from first quarter to fourth.

“If Dick suggests something, you have to assume it’s good because of his experience,” Meiss says. “Then when his lousy idea fails, it’s up to me to figure out what went wrong.”

He shoots a glance at Hill, who smiles on cue. Meiss laughs. Hill shakes his head. Meiss laughs again. Hill says nothing. It’s obvious these two have been together so long--since 1969, when they were assistants at Savanna--that they have developed their own unspoken language, much like twins.

Check out that slight roll of the eyes Hill has every time Meiss slides into his Meiss-the-Philosopher mode. Or that about-to-bust-up look Meiss wears every time Hill attempts to say something funny. For true insight, ask Meiss to analyze Dick Hill as fashion maven.

“He has this thing about mixing all the school colors he ever wore,” Meiss says, as Hill--dressed in a black-and-gold hat and a blue-and-cream-colored sweat suit--listens patiently.

Meiss: “Dick’s colorblind, you know.”

Hill: “It’s a very convenient thing.”

Meiss: “It’s an excuse. The only time I know he’s colorblind is when it comes to traffic signals. I give him all this black stuff (Foothill school color) and he insists on wearing red and white.”

Hill shrugs. Meiss cracks up. Fortunately, a couple of players walk in and break things up.

Meiss fingers the Bonehead Award on his desk. He explains he and Hill never got around to presenting it to anyone this year because the team was doing poorly at first and they didn’t want anyone to feel worse.

“We could use it now, though,” Hill says.

“Yeah,” Meiss says. “I guess we could.”

The players would probably agree. Considering how far Foothill has come, why make bones about it?

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Ludovise by writing her at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, 92626 or by calling (714) 966-5847.