BYRON DE ARAKAL -- Between the Lines

It never would have registered on my radar screen that high school

football would be anything less than the heartbeat, the mortar, the

unifier of a community. Least of all here in Costa Mesa. This place just

feels like a football town.

That’s why the part of my youth still untarnished by cynicism could

never have imagined that going to “the game” would ever be an option of

last resort. That it would be something to do in a pinch. That it would

occupy a slot on the things-to-do list beneath marathon Napster sessions,

instant messaging confabs or a three-movie Friday courtesy of

Blockbuster.

But sentimentality has a funny way of holding on to realities that no

longer exist, of denying the inevitability of change. And the truth is

high school football has lost its glory. On the evening of the venerable

Battle for the Bell gridiron classic pitting the Mustangs of Costa Mesa

High against the Eagles of Estancia, my son suggested in the clearest

terms -- and in a tone that said, “Dad, let me help you here” -- that I

arrive at Davidson Field early to get a seat. His counsel, while

appreciated, was already understood.

That’s because during my prep years at El Modena High School in

Orange, the annual pigskin clash between ‘El Mo’ and cross-town rival

Villa Park wasn’t merely a football game. It was an epic event something

on the order of a religious revival.

It galvanized our collective communities, pumping them full of an

anticipation that was both electrifying and palpable. It consumed table

chat at Jack’s Broaster on Chapman Avenue. Merchants became partisans,

displaying storefront placards wishing good fortune upon El Modena’s

Vanguards or Villa Park’s Spartans.

And, of course, the respective student bodies perpetrated certain

predawn shenanigans upon their rival’s campus the night before game day.

With so much buzz surrounding the game, you were ill-advised to arrive

at Fred Kelly Stadium -- which probably seats 5,000 -- any later than an

hour before kickoff. Otherwise, you’d be standing in the Bob Uecker

section of the stadium, a place resembling something like steerage on a

cruise ship.

Remembering all of that, I figured nothing had changed.

So on the night of the Battle for the Bell -- with my heart and mind

replaying all that I relished about high school football 23 years earlier

-- I made it to Davidson Field just over a half-hour before game time.

And it didn’t take long to see that something was terribly wrong, that

time had marched by and things had indeed changed.

The air wasn’t boiling with the crisp cadence of the drum lines I used

to hear. And the muffled chatter of the legions there to watch wasn’t

spilling through the stadium, as I had always remembered it did. But what

was most disheartening was the site of more concrete than people.

Davidson Field was nearly empty. Indeed, the stands never managed to get

past half-full throughout the contest.

But what a contest it was. The Eagles of Estancia -- these kids,

really -- rallied from a demoralizing halftime deficit to clip Costa

Mesa. And I was sanguine witnessing it.

This was high school football as I remembered it, only better. As I

watched Estancia quarterback Kenny Valbuena scramble for yard after every

tough yard during the Eagles’ winning drive, I saw more talent than any

of the QBs I remembered. When I witnessed Fahad Jahid -- a brut of a kid

-- ramble down field like a Peterbilt without brakes, I knew I was

watching someone whose name I’d hear spilling from the lips of Keith

Jackson some Saturday. And I simply marveled watching Estancia’s Andy

Romo slice through the line, break to the outside and fly down the

sideline as if he were on ice skates.

What a shame it was, I remember thinking, that more folks aren’t here

to witness this.

Then, just last week, I had to accept what I didn’t want to believe

during the Battle for the Bell. Sitting in the stands at Fullerton High

School, one of about 175 Estancia fans who bothered to show, I watched

the Estancia Eagles succumb to the Fullerton Indians in their first CIF

appearance since 1995. My rough head count of Fullerton High supporters

only reached 250. And the game had all the energy of a preseason

scrimmage.

I knew then that the glory days of high school football were over.

“There’s just too much competition for our attention,” said

Newport-Mesa school board member David Brooks, recalling that as a

prepster in Fontana during the ‘60s, the stands were always full, even

during a losing season. “We didn’t have the Irvine Spectrums or the

Internet to compete with.”

Costa Mesa High School Athletic Director Kirk Bauermeister said he

sees it the same way. “Our kids just have so many choices today,” he

said.

Perhaps. But going to “the game” is still one of those choices. And

although the season is over for three of the four high schools in our

community, Newport Harbor is still battling in the CIF playoffs.

So do yourself a favor. Forget the Internet. Skip Blockbuster. Tell

your friends to meet you at the game instead of online. And if you’re an

old guy like me who remembers how high school football used to be, wallow

in a little nostalgia and get out to the game. The Tars will be battling

Kennedy on Friday at Western High in the CIF quarterfinals. Kickoff is at

7:30 p.m.

And you may want to show up a little early.

* BYRON DE ARAKAL is a writer and communications consultant. He lives

in Costa Mesa. His column runs Wednesdays. Readers can reach him with

news tips and comments via e-mail at o7 byronwriter@msn.comf7 .