In 1962, Al Nichols’ mother put him on a bus in Charleston bound for California. She told him that 3,000 miles away lived an extended family just waiting to be discovered. “’Every man is your brother,’ she told me, ‘and you are your brother’s keeper.’” He arrived at Stephens Junior High not knowing anyone, and entered Poly’s gate expecting the same. Instead, he found himself part of a tradition and a football community that welcomed him, loved him, and continues to offer the support of a true family to him. After an All-American, record-setting high school career, the people are what he wants to talk about most. “If I had to do it all over again, to pick a school all over again, it would be that school. It would be those people.”
The rest of the 2009 Poly Football Hall of Fame inductees agree: there’s just something special about Poly. And on Tuesday afternoon eight of this year’s twelve inductees gathered in the Poly library to share their stories and make their guesses about what exactly it was that made being a Jackrabbit mean so much.
It could simply be the history of the school, which was almost fifty years old by the time brothers Sam and Royal Cathcart made their names for the school in the early 1940s. Both men went on to serve in the US Army during World War II, for which Sam was awarded a silver star and a purple heart. Both men played for the San Francisco 49ers, and became officials for the NFL and the NCAA. Royal was the line judge for the Immaculate Reception. They tell their histories at the library’s podium, charming and appropriately excited to be honored. But it’s not until later in the evening, over Cokes at Phil Trani’s Restaurant, that they get a little bit giggly as they talk about playing football at LBCC after the war with Sammy Dimas, their childhood idol. “We grew up watching these guys play,” Sam laughs, “There was just no doubt we were going to be Jackrabbits.” Royal recalls being thrilled to see 2008’s inductees at last season’s preseason game against St. Bonny. “This is absolutely a dream come true.”
There’s just something about Long Beach Poly.
“All around the country, when you speak Poly’s name, people’s eyes light up. To be honored as one of the best to come out of that tradition… it’s humbling,” says Chris Lewis, class of 1999 and this year’s youngest inductee. As one of the greatest quarterbacks ever to play at Poly, or anywhere else in the state, he is certainly well-deserving of the honor. But he’s also keenly aware of the tradition he is a part of, one of almost mythic proportions. He looks across the restaurant at the Cathcarts, smiles, and shakes his head. “It’s incredible,” he says quietly. “The kids who are playing now need to understand that they have a responsibility to the people who went before them. Be humble, know that you’re a part of something special.”
When Jerry Jaso was head coach at Poly, he used to tell stories to his athletes (including Chris Lewis) about the great teams of the past. “I told them that, after 100-odd years, you’re a part of something very rich, and you need to honor that tradition. Times change, and the school changes, but the greatness remains the same.” Jaso, the winningest coach in Poly history, whose goal was to get Poly to the point that “we could play anybody, anywhere, any time,” and against whom every coach from Raul Lara forward will be compared, is humbled in the face of Poly’s tradition. He tells the story of his father looking for a house in 1955, and finding one in Wrigley for $12,000 and one in Garden Grove for $12,500. “I always told him that I was glad we didn’t have that extra $500, so that I ended up going to Poly.” Al Nichols chimes in: “Lucky for Poly.” “Lucky for me. Playing for Poly was the best decision I ever made in my life.”
Richard Bryson, who never went pro, but whose success in business has made it possible for him to fund the new scoreboard at Blair Field, attributes his accomplishments in large part to his time at Poly. “At Poly, just playing football was an honor. Achieving the success I did was a turning point in my life. I was taught to achieve, and I really never thought that I wouldn’t be successful at whatever I did.” While he was at Poly, he was a wide receiver and a defensive back. He only caught 17 passes in his career, but he made them count: all 17 were for touchdowns. This incredible statistic, too, he attributes to the green and gold on his uniform: “I don’t know what makes Poly so unique, but it is.”
Dennis Price and Chuckie Miller grew up playing Pop Warner together, graduated from Poly together in 1983, and played together at UCLA before finally getting split up in the NFL draft (Raiders and Colts, respectively). Under coach Jaso, then the defensive backs coach, they learned about the history of Poly and what continues to make it great. Like many of the other inductees, Price was impressed by the Cathcarts and their place in the tradition. “At the ceremony, my children will get to hear their stories. They always hear me talk about Poly, but now they’ll get to hear it from another perspective, and maybe they’ll understand a little bit better. Other schools may be good for a couple of years, but Poly is great from way back when until now.” At the press conference, Chuckie Miller said simply, “Traditionally, we’re winners. I learned to win by being at Poly High.”
There is something special about Poly, and when the school and the team honors the 2009 class of the Football Hall of Fame on July 12th, they will be adding to the history and tradition of excellence. But the impact playing for the Jackrabbits has made on the lives of these twelve men is more than a sum of yards carried, touchdowns thrown, or even wins over Mater Dei. Ask Al Nichols, and he’ll tell you what it is: it’s family. As she put him on the Greyhound to start him on his journey, Al’s mother told him, “Always make us proud of you, and never make us ashamed of you.” All of the inductees I talked to had similar messages for the younger generation of this family, that is carrying on the tradition and wearing the green and gold today. The tradition is real, and it’s important, and if its price is a pressure to succeed, then it is a price the athletes should feel honored to pay. As Dennis Price puts it, “It’s hard to be a rabbit, but I’m sure glad I’m one.”