From LBPOSTSports.com
Story by J.J. Fiddler & Mike Guardabascio
Coach Scott Meyer could hear the shots. Meyer, then a second-year football coach at Jordan High School, was working in his office under the football stadium bleachers. It was November 3, 2006, and his Panthers had just suffered a 58-0 loss to the Poly Jackrabbits. He thought he recognized the sound, but didn’t know for sure until he walked to the other side of Atlantic Avenue.
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Talia Crichton and his oldest brother Sam were close—as a lanky middle school football player at Hughes, Talia would spend hours in the weight room with Sam. Not lifting: watching, mesmerized by his brother. “I just sat there, like, ‘Wow.’”
When Talia was nine, he, Sam, their parents Tupe and Niu, and four other siblings made a move, from American Samoa all the way to the north side of Long Beach, to Atlantic Avenue. It was there that football became a daily part of Sam’s life, and thus, a daily part of Talia’s.
When Meyer took over the Jordan program, Sam was already a three-year varsity starter. “Sam was just a great kid, who knew right from wrong. He was always walking around with [his] ukulele.” Meyer was trying to bring a new philosophy to the Jordan Panthers, preaching positivity and respect. He needed leaders on the team to buy in, and help him spread the message. During school one day, Sam stepped forward to defend a teacher who was being hassled by a student, and Meyer found his leader.
Talia began attending school, and playing football, at Lakewood High. While his brother had succeeded at Jordan, Talia’s mother thought it wasn’t the best environment for her younger, more impressionable son. His grades at Hughes earned him admittance to Lakewood’s Merit Scholars program, and his mother drove him to school across town every day. But even in fresh surroundings, Talia says he was, “Influenced by the wrong things.” Overwhelmed, Talia left the Merit Scholar program. He was searching for an identity.
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On the night of November 3, 2006, fifteen-year old Talia and his mother had an argument before he was supposed to leave for a Lakewood football game. In rebellion, Talia decided to hang out with his friends and go to the Jordan/Poly game down the street from his house. Sam, who’d graduated from Jordan and was then playing LBCC ball, went along to watch out for his brother.
After the game, Sam and Talia, and a group of Samoan friends, crossed Atlantic and were walking south, in front of the Paradise Garden Apartments. A car of Tongan gang members pulled up alongside the group, doors swinging open. Tension between Tongans and Samoans is historic, and far-reaching. Its influence was strong enough to be felt across an ocean that night. Heated words and punches were exchanged, but the scuffle was quick and relatively minor, and the car drove away. It seemed like the situation was over.
But, unbeknownst to Talia and his friends, the car continued south on Atlantic, stopping briefly to drop someone off in an alley. When the group walked past, the gunman stepped out behind them and opened fire.
They scattered. Talia ran forward, and Sam, who had been leading the group down the street, retreated to the rear of the pack in an effort to find and protect his little brother. Talia and Sam were almost touching when Sam was hit by three shots, one in each leg and a fatal shot to the head.
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As a senior in 2008, Talia continues to balance his two pasts. On the one hand, he’s an extremely gifted football player who’s bright enough to have been admitted to a magnet program at Lakewood. But he’s also a victim of circumstance, whose life has been forged by the street he lives on. Lakewood head coach Thadd MacNeal can see that struggle, and he and his staff are doing everything they can to help Talia.
“It’s just so frustrating because I know how smart he is,” says MacNeal of Talia, whose grades flirt with the line between mediocrity and excellence. The extra attention is not unappreciated.
“If it weren’t for coach Mac, I’d be on the streets right now,” says Talia.
On the field, Talia only knows excellence. He’s the leading sacker on a tenacious defensive unit, and is making a name for himself as a viable Division I recruit. The 6’4” 245lb defensive end is one of the team’s best tacklers—he’s notched the third-most on the team while missing a game due to injury—and an extremely emotional leader.
You can guess where most of that emotion comes from. After the shooting, in fear for their other son’s life, Talia’s parents sent him to Hawaii to live with cousins. “They sat me down a few times. I wanted to get those guys… but they said it wasn’t worth going to jail for. I mean, I got my brother’s back, but Sam wouldn’t want me to do that. He wants me to do good. Every time I’m in the weight room, I think about Sam. I’m inspired by him. I feel it. Sam would want me to be the best.”
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Tonight, Talia and his Lakewood teammates will drive down Atlantic Ave to Jordan High School to take on coach Meyer and his one-loss Panthers. Before the game, Meyer will emerge from his office under the stadium, where he still has a memorial sticker bearing Sam’s number in white on a field of black. And on the field, when Talia goes into his three-point stance, he’ll look down and see his brother’s name tattooed on his forearm.
But memorial tokens are just that—tokens. Neither describe nor depict what Sam meant to Meyer, or to his brother Talia. Meyer spoke at Sam’s funeral, and draped his Panthers jersey over Sam’s coffin. When Talia talks about his brother, he doesn’t look like a 17-year old struggling with the academic load of his senior year. He looks like more. He looks like a man, with purpose. He looks like purpose personified. And for Talia, there’s no question what that purpose is: “I’m meant to play this game.”