Bound by Grief

There is hurt on the campus of Fountain Valley High. Scotty Lang, only 16, a boy known for his big smile and devotion to his family and church, died on the school’s football practice field Monday as he prepared for his team’s big game tonight.

The hurt on the football field, and in the weight room and the locker room, is staggering.

But what about the mentor who is missing a student? The chorus minus a voice? The hopeful girl without a prom date? The empty desk in every period?

“As one kid said, this changes everything,” said Eric Johnson, Fountain Valley’s football coach. “Everybody’s affected by Scotty. No matter how difficult it is, the only thing you can do is face it.”

Johnson knows that as well as anybody. When he leaves the school grounds, leaves his football program, the awful hurt travels with him.

The coach works through sadness during the day, forges through the grief with his team in the afternoon, and then goes home to console a troubled son at night.

Kjell Johnson, 15, plays defensive end for Fountain Valley. Every practice before Monday, he lined up opposite Scotty, his friend.

So even if Johnson were lucky enough to be able to forget Scotty’s death, even for a moment, there would still be times when he opens the door of his son’s room well after 11 at night only to find Kjell’s eyes wide and burning.

“I can’t sleep,” Kjell told his father Tuesday night. “A lot of the guys are having trouble.”

So many people are.

The coach has grieving players and boosters to comfort while also trying to prepare his team for its game tonight against Long Beach Poly, the top-ranked team in Southern California.

Kjell and his teammates are just trying to get by until some of the numbness goes away.

The Johnsons drive together to school, 25 minutes from their home in Santa Ana. The trips have been quiet the past few days.

“He’s having a real tough time dealing with it,” Johnson said of Kjell.

The Langs, incredibly, are the ones who have provided the community a shoulder on which to rest its sobbing head. Steven Lang, Scotty’s father, attended a football booster club meeting Tuesday night and told the gathering: “I will really miss my son. I’m glad we’re playing on Friday. I hope we win. The fact they’re playing their hearts out for Scotty, that makes me feel good.”

Not two hours before, when Johnson trudged into the weight room to view film of Long Beach Poly, a tall, wiry sophomore approached him from behind and slung an arm around the coach’s shoulders. It was Kjell.

“My dad’s sort of a hard person to figure out because he doesn’t show his emotions,” Kjell said. “But, you can see it in the corners of his eyes. It’s sadness. And concern, I guess. I worry about him a lot. This has been hard for him.”

They forced mournful little grins at one another, father to son and back, each saddened by the other’s loss, each hoping to ease the colossal weight on the other’s spirit.

“They were certainly going to be bonded together through this football season,” said Johnson’s wife, Karen, an athletic director at Cypress High. “But I think this tragedy is making us, as a family, closer. You can fall apart at the seams or use it as strength.”

It appears the entire football team, from the last kid on the bench to the head coach, is clinging to itself. Team members will play tonight at Long Beach Veterans Stadium, then bury Scotty Lang, their friend and teammate, the next morning.

And then what? They wonder where the lessons from Scotty’s death will come from, and what the lessons will be.

The Johnsons, father and son, wonder too. All they know is that they need each other now more than ever.

Kjell lived in Oregon with his mother, apart from his father, for nearly 12 years. A little more than a year ago, he moved to Southern California. He came for his father, Eric, 47, who remarried almost two years ago. And he came for the football.

The transition was going well. Father and son were bonding, becoming friends again. The team was doing well. Then came the tragedy of Monday’s practice.

“Everybody’s kind of walking around in shock, talking to people,” Eric Johnson said. “Then Kjell comes by and puts his head on my shoulder. That’s the conversation. There haven’t been a lot of words said.”

Johnson does not know how to soothe his son’s grief, so they grieve quietly together. At home they say little. When he found Kjell awake so late Tuesday night, Eric only reminded him of the 6 a.m. alarm that would come quickly. Then he pulled the door closed.

“We comfort each other,” Kjell said. “My dad has his hard times and I have mine.

“My dad, he’s sort of like my long lost father. I can’t describe what he gives me. He’s just there for me.”

The sleep, Kjell said, might come eventually. But not now. Not with everything so fresh.

“I don’t want to,” Kjell said. “Once you lie down to go to sleep, you don’t have anything to think about besides Scotty Lang.”

Eric Johnson has coached in many tough situations. He has been father in only a few. Now parenting and coaching are running together.

“This is probably not a lot different,” he said. “The team is looking at me for leadership, for guidance, like Kjell is. I’m just trying.”

By Wednesday morning, Karen Johnson said, they both sounded a little more upbeat. The game appeared to her to have given them a purpose.

“If there’s anybody in this position who would handle this and be strong, it would be my husband,” she said. “I don’t think Eric is overlooking the fact that Kjell needs emotional comfort.

“It’s certainly going to strengthen the bond, not only for Eric and Kjell, but also for those other kids. This tragedy is going to bring families together. The kids also will look to the coaches for support. That’s one of Eric’s greatest strengths.”