"More Thoughts On Small Schools"
HELMET HUT NEWS/REFLECTIONS January 2011:
More Thoughts On Small Schools
By Dr. Ken
I was reminded of the potential
pitfalls that football in the
1960’s brought and certainly
with greater frequency at the
small college level. Lyle Alzado
was a very aggressive football
player at Lawrence High School
though not an excellent or
highly skilled player. Because I
had been forced to switch high
schools and leave Long Beach
Public Schools, I faced the
predicament of living a bit more
than ten miles from Lawrence
High School and often had to
hitchhike in order to navigate
that distance. “Hitching” was a
rather common and acceptable
form of transporting oneself
from place to place in what was
a much safer time and society,
especially for young people
though today it is almost
unheard of and admittedly
dangerous. When summer arrived
and others were surfing,
lounging on the shore, or
perhaps had a relatively cushy
job working in one of the delis
near the beach, I commuted to
Manhattan in the still-dark
hours of the morning. After a
day of arduous physical labor at
the side of my father, usually
serving as the iron workers’
crew mule, jack hammer operator,
and rivet man (yes, they were
still using rivets on high rise
beam projects into the 1960’s),
I would face the evenings by
dragging myself to illegal
summer football practice. One of
the reasons that football in the
south for example, is superior
to eastern high school football,
is the implementation of spring
practice and summer football
leagues. Until recently, it was
illegal to have organized or
coach-supervised summer football
practice on Long Island. Coaches
worked around that in blatantly
obvious ways and when I coached
at Malverne High School, I
carried on the time honored
tradition. I would leave
footballs and written
instructions for the captains
who would supervise players-only
practices three or four evenings
per week and admittedly, while
serving as Director Of Summer
Recreation, I would find myself
busy with tasks that took me
close to the practice field or
track area at a time that
coincided with the boys entry to
the field. At Lawrence, summer
sessions were held under the
auspices of the captains and
seniors at what was then a
vocational trades school in the
neighborhood, with footballs and
instructions left under the fire
escape stairs of the building.
Numerous times, one of the
coaches would coincidentally be
sitting in his car, just outside
the chain link fence surrounding
the rutted, rocky field.
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Almost 20 years after the author’s departure the Lawrence HS Golden Tornadoes go through practice
My evening
travel-by-thumb
sojourn would place
me at the corner of
two major
intersections at a
Mobil Gas Station.
Coincidentally, this
was the station
where I spent most
of my sophomore year
pumping gas and
sprinting outside
into the snow,
sleet, or howling
winds to check tire
pressure and oil
gauge levels as this
was the era of the
gas “service
station” and service
was in fact expected
and provided. Alzado
would be waiting and
would then pedal the
remaining half mile
or so to practice
with me perched atop
the handlebars of
his bicycle. Two
years behind me, I
justified the
arrangement with the
reminder that as
skinny as he was, at
perhaps 6’1” and 160
pounds, he needed to
“build leg muscles.”
Being absolutely
dedicated to
becoming better, he
bought into it. At
one time or another,
all of us also
worked for the local
sanitation carrier,
with the temporary
summer employees
jogging or sprinting
behind the garbage
truck, hauling the
heavy pails, and
watching the older
fellows sit in the
cab of the truck
smoking cigars and
reading the
newspaper. Lyle of
course had to take
it a step further,
doing all of his
sanitation chores
while wearing ankle
weights to make the
running that much
more difficult. By
the time of his high
school graduation,
Lyle had grown to
6’2” or so, but was
still on the thin
side at
approximately 185
pounds. He was
muscular, athletic,
and tough as leather
but still lacking in
many skills. As one
of his teammates
once described
Lyle’s on the field
duties, “Coach
(Jack) Martilotta
told him to get the
quarterback and
that’s all he did.”
Whatever he lacked
in understanding the
nuances of any
scheme or in
utilizing proper
technique, he made
up for with
unbridled mayhem.
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Alzado and Paul Smith on Broncos’ bench
A lack of football sophistication combined with an indifferent academic record and a number of arrests left him with little more than an opportunity to literally try out at New Mexico State which for a New York area youth was like traveling to outer space. At the twelfth hour, the scholarship offer was pulled and with college camps on the verge of opening, Coach Martilotta who always went all out for his guys and had more than a few national contacts, reached out and arranged for Lyle to undertake what amounted to another try out, this one at Kilgore Junior College in what we derisively referred to as “darkest Texas.” Undersized for a defensive linemen or linebacker but certainly as fast as anyone on the Aggies squad, Lyle was given a shot at both running back and receiver but having little offensive experience and what could charitably be described as poor hands, he was quickly dismissed from the staff’s plans. Feeling as if he were dropped into another reality and with a limited prospect of fitting in with what seemed to be an all-Texas raised squad, he saw little reason to stay. Lyle did note one major positive. “They had this girls’ drill team,” referring to the world famous Kilgore College Rangerettes, “and these girls were great looking.” He told me that he packed up all of his belongings that conveniently if sadly fit into the one suitcase he had traveled with, and started to hitchhike home. “I only got part of the way and had to call Coach Martilotta” who somehow got him onto a bus for New York City.
Arriving in the area “what had to be forty hours later,” Lyle went directly to the high school. True to form, Coach Martilotta had Lyle shower, provided a new school sweat suit, put all of his clothing into the commercial washer used for the football uniforms, and sent him down to the cafeteria to get his first meal in two days. He immediately started to work the phones and by the time Lyle’s clothing had dried and he was changing out of his Lawrence Golden Tornado sweat suit, Coach’s car was whisking him back to Manhattan’s Port Authority Bus Station and he was on the way to South Dakota.
