They Watched Our Backs

The rooters bus, like the post-game dance, has long since died as a meaningful part of high school life. But, in the 1970s, we didn't have our driver's licenses and the rooters' bus was always filled with good looking girls. We loved the rooters bus trips that took us to Arcata, Fortuna and, once, even to Crescent City. My pals and I loved rooters bus trips to Eureka High football games.

Most kids now can't believe that we paid a couple bucks to ride in a school bus filled with cheerleaders, teachers as chaperones and people we barely even knew. It sounds too much like a school function to be considered fun, I guess. Perhaps, we were just more easily amused.

It was a more innocent time, I know.

Still, it wasn't like we didn't know our actual ticket to freedom was that driver's license that, really, seemed to with it a great deal more magic than it does today. It didn't matter how much fun we had on the rooters' bus trip and at the games, we still had to wait outside in the dark for one of our parents to pick us up and take us home.

Now, I realize we were lucky that our parents took turns driving here and there. . Now, having become the parent who picked the kids up, I realize I do what those parents did and think, "It's not going to kill the kids to wait a couple minutes while I finishing watching this TV show."

It never killed us, but waiting in the dark nearly did result in our getting a beating thrown our way.

It was the tail end of the 1971 Big Five Conference football season, because basketball tryouts and practice had already started. Our rooters' bus group included me, Dennis Bills, Berk Brown and, I think, David Lovfald. I'm not sure. It was Bills, me and two other equally harmless individuals.

We got off the bus and whichever parent was supposed to pick us was really slow. The four of us were standing under a street light by the cafeteria. Today, the school district would be required by law to keep an adult supervisor with us until we were in the charge of a parent or guardian. Back then, hell, what's the worst thing that could happen?

We were not...not at all...tough guys. I can't think of a single close pal who was ever in an actual fight. Dennis was the big, strong, athletic guy who people likely feared because he was quiet. I can remember two times I had to force myself to push back -- and pray things would stop before a fight started. Nobody, but nobody, feared me. I figured if we were ever in a situation that required we tussle ... we'd rely heavily on Dennis...but, only if we couldn't talk our way out of a fight.

We were aware of that segment of the population that fought and muscled people for fun. So, we weren't thrilled when a car full of senior guys pulled up in front of the cafeteria. We were sophomores. There were four of us and four of them. A guy named Vic Blanc was the only recognizable senior and, honestly, I don't remember how I knew his name. The night in front of the cafeteria was my only connection in life to the guy.

It became quickly apparent that the four seniors wanted to pick on the four sophomores. I doubted they even knew us...but, they knew we'd riden the rooters' bus and that some of us were on the JV basketball team...and, I remember, us very politely answering questions about how stupid it is for anybody to ride the rooters' bus and how, actually, being on the JV basketball team didn't make us big shots.

And, no...hell no...nuh-uh...we in no way thought we were tough guys. I'm pretty sure we would've agreed we were candy-ass punks if it meant killing time until our ride came.

Fights started and guys we knew got roughed up for a lot less reason in the 1970s. I was briefly convinced that, at least, Dennis was going to wind up tussling with one of the seniors. I actually knew he was the only one among us who would surely push back if push came to shove. I might have pushed back...maybe...ah, probably not.

We didn't like where the confrontation was headed...and I really didn't like that that the parent who was supposed to give us a ride was also potentially interested in watching us handle this situation from afar. But, how far would they let it go, you know?

Honestly, specifically remember was the thought, "These guys want to see how far they can bully us before we fight." They might not have had any intention of actually fighting, but...hey, if I thought it was going to happen, that was enough to scare the hell out of kid who really didn't want to fight.

Then, I heard another car pull up in the darkness in front of the gym. No adults were coming to our rescue from 200 feet away, so really...the arrival of more high school kids didn't strike me as helpful.

We were just getting bullied and we didn't know how to handle it. And...all of a sudden, from the darkness, I heard...

"Hey..HEY!"

We were about to get a lesson in how bullies react when they get bullied by guys they themselves feared.

"Hey, what's going on?"

I didn't know seniors Bob Anderson, a giant of a guy at like 6-foot-7, or Gary Fuller at all. Fuller was a football star, a great athlete who also played basketball. Well, I knew of them and, boy, did I hope they knew of us through the basketball team or maybe seeing us at some point in youth or junior high school sports. They went to Jacobs Junior High -- as did the third guy in their crew named Don McMillan. I know McMillan played Midget League baseball and that his hulking presence along with Anderson and Fuller seemed to distract attention from the seniors who were hassling us.

Fuller had asked "What's going on?" and didn't really seem to care who answered. Clearly, though, him and his buddies knew what was going on and they seemed interested in clearing things up with the seniors near us.

The three of them, Anderson and Fuller and McMillan, walked out of the shadows and just ... took up a lot space. We, my friends and I, had plenty of breathing room all of a sudden. But, those three were ... interested in their senior peers and what they were doing in the middle of campus, in the dark ... with us.

It was all I could could do to keep from shouting, "Thank God you guys showed up!" So, mostly, Dennis and Dave made small talk for us as the guys best known as actual basketball players to Anderson and Fuller. There's a very slim connection between high school senior athletes and guys who'd only barely made the JV basketball team at all. We clung to that connection ... and the guys who'd been bugging us seemed to shrink before my eyes.

They were controlling the situation when it was just them and us ... now, they were thinking what I had been thinking about a potential altercation with guys they wanted no part of...so, they did some fast talking about how they weren't really causing any trouble or anything and ... and ... they got smaller as Fuller and the others seemed to get bigger.

I've never seen four older high school guys, who seemed like men to me,turn so quickly from tough guys to four guys who just wanted to disappear. I vaguely remember, wondered why Fuller and the others were even on the premises.

"What difference does it make? You have a problem with us being here?"

Those are the only two sentences I remember hearing clearly. I don't remember who asked, but I remember thinking that the four seniors knew the right answer was, "No, nah...of course not...see you 'round school!"

Finally, our ride arrived ...but, not until the four guys hassling us were getting in their car to leave. I can't say Fuller and the others were actually their to protect four harmless kids...but, they pulled our asses out of hot water. (There are seniors you think are men...and there are men among seniors.)

When our ride pulled up, mercifully, Fuller and the other two just walked back to their car.

We never got hassled again. We never talked to the seniors who were hassling us, nor to my knowledge, did any of us talk to the seniors who bullied the guys bullying us.

It all did make for a great rooters' bus story.