Golden Boy

From the day Jim Benkert walked to the front of the Westlake High theater and introduced himself to skeptical parents and players 11 years ago, he has bucked the stereotype of a football coach.

No crooked nose. No gruffness. No oversized muscles gone soft.

The blond Benkert looked more like Dennis the Menace than Don Shula.

No one was thinking Boy Wonder.

“They all figured I’d be a one-year wonder,” Benkert said.

Looks deceive.

Benkert has proven as resilient as they come, persistence personified. He painstakingly built a top program while enduring deep disappointments that etched wrinkles into that angelic face.

Along the way he developed an enviable balance between work and family, tamed an affluent community rife with opinionated parents and raised the ire of opposing coaches who accuse him of recruiting.

He is on the brink of bringing Westlake its first Southern Section championship and, as is the norm, will send several players to Division I colleges.

At 41, Benkert has matured into the stable, seasoned coach parents want for their sons. Yet he remains a thorn in the side of the Mr. Wilsons of the world.

Accusations Sting

Barbs greeted Westlake at Arroyo Grande High on Saturday night.

“Ain’t no sushi here,” one Arroyo Grande fan yelled as the Warriors exited their bus.

After the game, a 24-7 Westlake victory, the locals yapped some more: “Haven’t you heard? Westlake’s coaches pay the players.”

“Even something as ludicrous as that comment bothers me,” Benkert said.

Westlake is like the mansion on the hill, a privileged enclave that becomes the object of envy and scorn. Benkert could ignore the detractors, but that’s not his style.

“His feelings have been hurt,” said Darryl Smith, Westlake’s quarterback coach throughout Benkert’s tenure. “People he’s known, whom he respects, all of a sudden were saying he was doing things he shouldn’t.”

At one point last season, Benkert sat slumped on the couch in his office, weary of accusations that the father of quarterback Zac Wasserman recruited star running back Julian Lambert and receiver Michael Brignac from San Fernando Valley schools. The Southern Section ruled Brignac ineligible last season because of undue influence by Wasserman’s father.

“The kids came here under the rules and I had nothing to do with it,” Benkert said. “What was I supposed to do, tell them they can’t enroll at Westlake High School? There is nothing I can say that doesn’t sound defensive or like an excuse.”

One opposing coach joked that the best defense against Westlake was a roadblock on the Calabasas grade.

“The transfers and the reaction are a sign of the times,” Benkert said. “It’s not a nice part of the job. They came here because this is an appealing program. Kids want to be part of it.”

The venom unsettles him. Benkert likes to be liked. He enjoys being a recognizable face and wants to be appreciated.

“You go into teaching and coaching for reasons other than financial,” he said. “I run into former players and students everywhere, when I’m eating in a restaurant or skiing at Mammoth. It’s neat to know you’ve had an impact.

“That’s why any negative comment bothers me. I won’t begin to tell you it doesn’t. This place is dear to my heart and we’ve earned what we’ve accomplished.”

Pillar in Community

A man’s priorities provide a glimpse into his character. Benkert did not find time to develop a game plan for the final Friday against San Luis Obispo until Tuesday afternoon.

He spent Sunday at an awards banquet for the Westlake Braves youth football organization. A Southern Section media event ate up Monday morning, and after practice he rushed to the basketball gym to coach his 13-year-old daughter Katie’s youth team, the Fighting Penguins. Then he sat in a booster’s club meeting that lasted until midnight.

Only after teaching a 7 a.m. class and fielding numerous phone calls Tuesday was Benkert able to delve into Xs and Os.

When a football player is singing in the school choir or starring in a play, Benkert is there to watch. He attends Westlake basketball and soccer games, and often sits through four Braves’ youth games on Saturdays.

“This is what I’ve chosen to do, teach and coach at Westlake High, and I do all aspects of it,” he said. “I enjoy it. I really do.”

Benkert and his wife, Joi, have been married for nearly two years. Katie and Joi’s son Aaron are the same age and will attend Westlake next year.

Win or lose, Benkert’s life is stable and his job is secure. The question mark of 11 years ago has become an exclamation point woven into the community’s fabric.

“When I first started, it was so important to win, to try to build the program,” he said. “It’s nice now to take a deep breath and relax and enjoy where I am. It’s nice to come to work and be myself and enjoy the kids for who they are.”

Finally, the Final

Only twice have the Warriors failed to reach the playoffs under Benkert, whose record is 83-42-5. But every year has ended in defeat, including losses in the semifinals in 1995 and ’96.

“If it’s an albatross around his neck, even I as a close friend haven’t seen it or heard it,” Smith said. “Every year he gathers the team and says, ‘You left everything on the field, I can’t ask any more of you.’ He rarely second-guesses himself.”

Westlake hadn’t reached the playoffs in seven seasons before Benkert’s arrival. He was the offensive coordinator at Crespi, calling plays during the Celts’ Division I championship run in 1986.

Benkert’s impact was immediate, especially on offense. Westlake became pass-oriented and entertaining. In his early years, Benkert employed more gimmicks than Inspector Gadget.

“We finessed people because we didn’t have size on the line,” he said. “My first year we didn’t have a single play designed to run inside the tackles.”

Westlake also earned a reputation for being soft defensively. That has changed. Eight opponents this season were held to fewer than 10 points.

“Over time I’ve learned to give away practice time to the defense,” Benkert said. “I had to make defense matter and I had to listen to the defensive coaches.”

He surrounds himself with a huge cadre of assistants, from longtime friends such as Smith, John Kidder, Troy Thomas and Matt Staker to local former players such as Erik Affholter and Mike Leibin. Agoura Coach Charlie Wegher and Hueneme Coach Larry Miller are former Westlake assistants. So is Terry Tumey, the Denver Broncos defensive line coach, and Kennedy Pola, linebacker coach at San Diego State.

“[Benkert] has no problem delegating once he knows you can do the job,” Smith said. “However, there is no doubt the program is his. When he is not on the field, there is a whole different feeling at practice.”

People Person

Although the practice field is dotted with assistants, Benkert at times seems like the only coach present. He has the players’ ears.

“He really gets involved,” Wasserman said. “I love him because he cares for us. If you make a mistake, he lets you know about it. But afterward, he explains what you did wrong in a calm way. He’s a father figure.”

Benkert’s own father, as well as his mother, grandmother and four siblings, rarely miss a Westlake game. His nephew, Scott, is the Warriors’ tight end.

“I understand how parents live through their kids,” Benkert said. “I view the degree of involvement by Westlake parents as a positive.”

There is a reason he attends every booster club meeting and sits among the parents at youth games.

“When there are rumblings, I hear them right away and throw a bucket on a match instead of waiting and having to throw a bucket on a bonfire,” he said.

Perhaps the eternally boyish Benkert developed strong communication skills to compensate for not projecting an intimidating presence. Perhaps it’s just his nature.

“When I started, not only didn’t I look old enough, I didn’t look like a football guy,” he said. “I looked more like a surfer on the beach. I was in a take-charge position and there was a lot of apprehension.

“So I became accessible right away. I let people know where they stand. Now it’s the only way I know how to do the job.”