On the Right Track

“Good morning,” a voice over the public-address system bellows.

It’s 5:38 a.m., and the Metrolink train is pulling out of Oxnard station on a 90-minute journey to downtown Los Angeles, with stops in Camarillo, Simi Valley, Chatsworth, Northridge, Van Nuys, Burbank and Glendale.

Normally, Adam Gonzalez, quarterback of the Loyola High football team, would have his eyes closed and his cheek against the window.

But on this particular weekday he has company, prompting him to stay awake and explain why any seemingly sane teenager would choose to commute more than 60 miles just to attend high school.

“I hope they can see I’m committed,” he says.

Some of his friends think he should be committed.

“They think I’m pretty crazy,” he says. “I’m a 16-year-old boy living the life of an adult. All I’m missing is kids.”

Two, sometimes three, times a week, Gonzalez takes the train from Oxnard to downtown Los Angeles, then transfers to bus No. 33, which drops him off on Venice Boulevard in front of Loyola’s campus.

Sometimes, when he gets tired of hearing his alarm going off at 5 a.m., he’ll stay overnight at his grandmother’s house in Highland Park, or beg his father to be his chauffeur for what usually is about a 1-hour 10-minute drive.

School, football, homework and sleep. That’s all Gonzalez has time for. Life would be a lot easier if he had chosen a Catholic high school closer to home, such as Ventura St. Bonaventure, or even Encino Crespi or Sherman Oaks Notre Dame.

But he never dreamed of going anywhere but Loyola. Since he was in the fourth grade, Gonzalez has been attending Cub football games with his father, Juan, a 1977 Loyola graduate. His bedroom is filled with Loyola shirts, caps, cards, posters and Beanie Babies.

“I didn’t want to do anything else but be the quarterback at Loyola,” he says.

Except, his dream of attending Loyola appeared over when the school rejected him two years ago for not having scored high enough on an entrance exam.

Gonzalez cried.

“It was very devastating,” his father said. “He felt let down and so did I.”

Gonzalez enrolled at St. Bonaventure, became quarterback of a league-champion freshman team, was elected president of his class and earned a 3.9 grade-point average.

“I’m loving every moment, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking about Loyola,” Gonzalez says.

In the spring, Loyola reversed itself and accepted him. The all-boys Jesuit school is 133 years old, with tuition at $5,600 and an enrollment of 1,170.

Parents have been known to resort to every tactic imaginable to enroll children at particular high schools. Creating a fake home address, turning over legal guardianship to a relative, temporarily renting an apartment, claiming a financial hardship--those are only a few of the subterfuges.

But there would be no trickery involving Gonzalez. If he wanted to attend Loyola, he would have to endure a daily physical and mental grind.

His father took him through the challenges, from waking up before dawn, to riding a train alone with adult strangers, to traveling in a bus far from home, to spending many days away from his family, to returning late at night, to losing any semblance of a social life.

“It’s really tiring, but as soon as I think about it and understand where I’m at, it’s all worth it,” Gonzalez says. “Here’s the way I look at it: I hate going to Loyola on the way there, but once I’m there, I love it.”

Gonzalez isn’t the only one making sacrifices. His father spends hours driving to and from Loyola. During the summer, when his son had to be at school by 6 a.m. three times a week for weightlifting workouts, Juan got him there on time.

“By 7 a.m., I had driven 120 miles,” he said.

Then he’d head to work as an executive administrator for an Oxnard law firm.

“I appreciate everything he does for me,” Gonzalez says of his father. “He’s always there and he reminds me to do the same when I have kids. A lot of times, I feel sorry for my dad because I give him a headache.”

It’s not unusual for Loyola students to travel long distances to school. A survey last semester found that 17% of the student body commutes more than 25 miles one way. Some other football players come from Thousand Oaks, Castaic, San Pedro and Pacific Palisades. But those who complain of traffic and other obstacles quiet down when reminded of what Gonzalez goes through.

“The dedication it takes to do what he’s doing is amazing,” offensive lineman Joe Weber said. “It makes you think you can do more.”

Added receiver Alex Koplin, “Everybody was kind of amazed how he’d get there at 6 o’clock for lifting from Oxnard. People respect him.”

Coach Steve Grady goes a step farther.

“He’s got something special,” he said. “He has a lot of determination.”

Gonzalez insists he didn’t choose Loyola for football. He’s a 5-foot-10 junior with no illusions about playing quarterback after high school, even though he completed nine of 13 passes for 135 yards and two touchdowns in his varsity debut two weeks ago.

He says he’s using Loyola to help him get to college without football.

“It’s all about the future,” he says. “I’ll have a much better life because of this. I’m preparing for a scary world.”

It’s 7:42 a.m., and bus No. 33 has stopped in front of Loyola. Out comes Gonzalez, wearing a Loyola cap, sweatshirt and shorts. He’s carrying a backpack full of books, holding a tote bag packed with football clothes, and clutching a paper bag that has his lunch--peanut butter and jelly on a bagel, chips and cookies.

“I think it’s going to be a long day,” Gonzalez says. “[But] what makes it easier is that there are so many kids at school who have the same goals as I do.”

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Eric Sondheimer can be reached at eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.