I was training hard during the Summer of 93. I got a free membership to an “upper class” gym through my uncle. I was 17, weighing 175, and my bench press max was 320. I was very inspired, and would get my cousins, as well as my uncle to hit the gym with me. I recall doing “deep” squats with 315 pounds, three sets of 15. I also remember running stairs. They were outside and connected two streets that were separated by a hill. I would sprint up them and jog down them over and over. Today, walking up once would wear me down.
After a couple months of training in Seattle I headed back to the Bay Area to start football camp for SF State. This would be my first year playing “college” football, and I was only 17 yrs old. Upon arrival at SF state I got in line with the rest of the players. The line was long and extended out of the Student health center. Inside we were treated like meat. The health staff measured us, weighed us, and frivolously examined our bodies. After that we were herded onto a bus. A number of hours later we reached CSU, Stanislaus. It was a California State University located in a “warmer” part of the state.
Our training camp schedule went as follows: breakfast, meeting, practice, weight training, showers, meeting, lunch, practice, showers, dinner, meeting, sleep. It was hard core. However, we got to indulge in a buffet three times a day, and were given an hour of free time before bed.
I excelled in this camp. I was the first freshman to go “heads up” with a senior in a drill. It was before we were supposed to be hitting, but it happened, anyway. He came at me and I didn’t back down. The head coach, who was known to sit back and observe, walked out to me and told me, “good job.”
After a couple weeks I began to get the attention of the seniors. I recall watching the films of one of our practices. The Offensive Coordinator pointed out how my “style” was more affective than one of the team captains’. The 1st string player would often times stop his feet, and “juke” his way around the side. I would put my head down and smash my way through. It wasn’t long before I was second string out of about 7 running backs.
Near the end of camp the running back in front of me got hurt. I was now scheduled to start in our opening day game against St. Mary’s. The coaches were flabbergasted. A 17yr old freshman was going to be their starting running back. There were only a couple other freshman that hadn’t been “red shirted.”
Back at Gator stadium we continued to practice. The week before our 1st game we had a scrimmage. My first carry was a success. It was a “dive,” up the middle, with the fullback lead blocking. I gained about 8 yards. However, my second carry didn’t go as well. It was a sweep around the left side. I exploded off the line, and carried the ball around the corner. I quickly gained about 6 yards. All that stood between me and the End Zone was a corner back. I decided to fake to the left and go right. My attempt failed. When I planted my foot to fake my ACL tore, and I fell to the ground. I was in a lot of pain.
Back in the medical “hut” the doctor examined my knee. The head coach was with me. When my coach asked for a status report, the doc shook his head. That meant I was out for the season. Later the head coach shed tears, and yelled at the rest of the team for not being as committed as me. I never saw it, but I guess news regarding my injury reached the SF paper. “Promising young running back from Novato, out for the season.”
