Rosamond Coaches Now Know Breaking Rules Is No Laughing Matter

That sonic boom folks around Rosamond High heard Friday wasn’t the shuttle touching down at Edwards Air Force Base. This one came from farther out in space.

That loud bang was their football team being unceremoniously bounced from the Southern Section Division X playoffs.

You see, some things need a good edit. Oliver Stone films, for example.

Some things don’t, such as game tape you give to your next opponent.

Rosamond High? Rosemary Woods? There’s a disturbing, yet familiar, ring to it.

When Orange Lutheran coaches viewed tape to prepare for the Division X title game, they couldn’t help but be impressed with Rosamond. The Roadrunners were so quick, if you blinked, you missed touchdowns. Beep-beep.

Then Jim Kunau and his staff noticed there were 13 seconds missing from the tape. Hey, it could have been worse. They could have received the coach’s wedding video by “mistake.”

Now the fellas up at Rosamond High enjoy a good laugh. The whole thing was a joke, or so Coach Lon Boyett told section officials Thursday. They were having some fun and gave Orange Lutheran the wrong tape.

Golly, doesn’t anybody have a sense of humor anymore?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Boyett.

Boyett who?

Boy, ett-dit those tapes a little more, will ya.

They have ‘em rolling in the aisles with that one up in Lancaster. Ah, but the first rule of comedy is: Know your audience.

That bit may have played in Peoria--or Phelan--but not at Orange Lutheran. Not when Los Angeles Cathedral, Phelan Serrano and Cerritos Valley Christian had already seen the act. The shtick was getting old. A Rosamond assistant admitted they had pulled the same knee-slapper a dozen or so times.

By Friday, everyone knew the punch line.

Rosamond was out. Two days later, the coaches were gone. And people were asking, “How can this happen?”

Wrong question.

Try, “How come it doesn’t happen more often?”

You take what you can get in athletics.

If that means throwing the short pass when the other team is playing deep, fine. If it means shooting from the outside when the middle is clogged, OK. If the third baseman is playing too deep, go for it, bunt. All’s fair.

Then it escalates. Intimidation gets sanctioned.

When was the last time you saw a kid help an opponent up after making a tackle? Twist a guy’s leg after the whistle, knee an opponent’s back while getting up, elbow someone in the ribs on a rebound; if no one sees it, it didn’t happen.

The Golden Rule: Just don’t get caught.

Then it escalates. People try to see where the limbo bar for sportsmanship rests.

Last season, there was a defensive player who would spit on the football just before the snap. There’s an Orange County football coach who has boasted about his linemen’s efficiency . . . at holding. “We teach them good, don’t we,” was his comment.

Just don’t get caught.

Then it escalates. Rules become suggestions.

Let’s play a kid who’s 20 years old. Let’s recruit that player there. Let’s push steroids.

Integrity is an endangered species. When it’s gone, there’s no bringing it back. This society prizes winners, and rules were made to be broken.

There’s a low road out there. Today it’s in the high desert. Turn left at Edwards Air Force Base.