by Neil Hayes
“I’d like to talk about the song,” Sandie says later. “It’s appropriate for us. They’re doing what they need to do to defend themselves, and that’s the same thing we’re trying to do.”
Chan prepares to read a poem written by De’Montae Fitzgerald, who is in a tutoring session and therefore unable to read it himself. Fitzgerald has always written poems on little scraps of paper. This time he wanted to create something that defines his experience at De La Salle. He started thinking about it during summer workouts and put pen to paper for the first time before the trip to Hawaii.
Chan clears his throat and begins to read:
Motifs of a Spartan
Months of blood and sweat
Tears and fatigue, laughs and cries
Pain and relief, struggle and progress
Commitment and dedication
Excellence and perfection
Persistence and repetition
Technique and strength
Bonds and brotherhood
Teaching and learning
Speaking and being heard
Courage, pride, and endurance
Respect and honor, respect and honor, respect and honor
Fundamental stance and demeanor
Sacrifice and determination
Never arrogant
Always modest
Always humble
Never takes more than needed
But always gives what is possible of giving
Always exceeds expectations
And forever will remain a tool of inspiration
Months of blood and sweat
Tears and fatigue, laughs and cries
Pain and relief, struggle and progress
A lifetime of brotherhood
“It’s not about victories. It’s about the De La Salle way,” Eidson says softly when Chan has returned to his spot on the floor. “This poem reflects that. It’s an honor for all of us to be in a situation like this. It’s an honor to be able to play. It’s an honor to coach you. That’s why I take the sign of peace so seriously, because it’s a sign of commitment to your teammates. It’s being honorable. With that in mind let’s offer each other that sign of peace.”
The players walk in a circle around the chapel and embrace each other. “Peace be with you,” they say after every sincere embrace. Eidson and Ladouceur hug the players, too.
It wasn’t until years after the fact that former De La Salle running back Patrick Walsh, now the head coach at Serra High School in San Mateo, fully realized the power of this weekly ritual.
“Lad creates an environment where you can cry in front of your friends and tell them you love them,” he said. “What do they do at the end of chapel service? They hug. Do you know how hard it is to get high school kids to do that? It wasn’t until my first chapel service at Serra that I learned that love is the key to everything they do.”
15
THE 1980s A NEMESIS NAMED SHAG
Dan Shaughnessy was being hailed as “The Genius” in the pages of Catholic Voice long before Bob Ladouceur saw the article announcing Ed Hall’s resignation at De La Salle. The longtime Salesian High School football coach celebrated his one hundredth coaching victory before Ladouceur completed his first season at De La Salle.
Shaughnessy was the dean of the Catholic Athletic League, a now-defunct former high school sports league made up of Catholic schools in the Bay Area, when his team met Ladouceur’s Spartans for the first time in 1979.
With a league title at stake, Shaughnessy’s Salesian Chieftains won in a romp, 32–0.
They didn’t know it then, but it was the beginning of a contentious rivalry.
Shaughnessy presented the first of many obstacles Ladouceur had to overcome en route to achieving the highest winning percentage in high school football history. He was by far the most imposing. Before the Spartans won their first league or North Coast Section title, before they could be crowned mythical state or national champions, they had to beat the man everybody called “Shag.”
He has been Ladouceur’s only nemesis, the only coach to defeat Ladouceur more than once. In fact, Shaughnessy beat De La Salle three times in Ladouceur’s first five years.
“He had a spell on everybody in the league,” Ladouceur said of Shaughnessy. “I didn’t know him and didn’t care, but his legend extended to the kids. They were all spooked by what he might do. I was never intimidated. I was like, ‘Who is this guy?’ It pissed me off was what it did.”
Shaughnessy was born in Oakland and grew up playing football at local playgrounds and watching Pappy Waldorf coach the California Golden Bears. He still remembers watching his first college game. He was a freshman in high school when he went to Memorial Stadium and saw Minnesota’s famous single-wing do-everything halfback Paul Giel.
He played football at St. Mary’s High School, Santa Rosa Junior College, and then at Utah State. Shortly thereafter, he met Diane on a blind date. They got married when Dan was discharged from the Army.
There was no football field at Salesian when he took over the fledgling program. The Chieftains played home games at a local park before Shaughnessy was able to organize volunteers to build a field on a patch of land where farmers once grew sugar beets.
Shaughnessy was a fierce competitor who stormed up and down the sideline. He trolled for every possible psychological advantage. The Chieftains’ home field was hard as concrete, which was precisely how he liked it. Opposing players choked on the clouds of dust kicked up after every play.
“He was very personable and you found yourself liking him, but at the same time you wanted to kick his butt,” said former De La Salle athletic director Chuck Lafferty. “There were a lot of characters in the CAL back then, and he was the biggest character of them all.”
Shaughnessy got tired of hearing coaches complain about not seeing their families during the football season, so he brought his along to scout opponents. Sometimes he and Diane and their five kids would watch as many as four games in one weekend.
Diane was a mother to more than just her own children. She kept statistics, sold programs, took tickets, did whatever needed to be done to help her husband’s program be successful. She hosted parties after big wins. The Salesian team bus would pull up right in front of the house.
She only missed two games in his forty-year coaching career. The first was to see a former Chieftain play in college. The other was when she gave birth to their daughter Susie on game day. The four Salesian captains in the game her husband coached later that afternoon became Susie Shaughnessy’s godfathers.
Shag’s four daughters were a constant presence on the sidelines. His son, Jake, grew up following his dad around on game day, unlocking the gates and setting up for the game, and eventually coached the freshman team.
“I didn’t know much about college or pro football other than it existed,” Jake Shaughnessy recalls. “The team I followed and loved was the Salesian Chieftains. For a kid it was the coolest thing ever.”
Shag’s teams ran what he still calls a “horse-and-buggy offense.” The Chiefs combined a punishing running game and hard-nosed defense with trick plays that their coach may as well have drawn up in dust.
By 1979 he was the godfather of CAL coaches. Then came Ladouceur and the rivalry with De La Salle.
After being thoroughly defeated in 1979, the Spartans came into the Salesian game the following year fresh off an upset of St. Mary’s, the number-one-ranked team in the East Bay. They retained their number one ranking and avenged the previous season’s 32–0 loss with a landmark 16–8 win over Shaughnessy’s Chieftains.
Salesian was ranked number one and De La Salle number two when they played the following year in the CAL opener for both schools. De La Salle quarterback Jay Jordan provided the Chieftains with all the extra motivation they needed when he was quoted in a Contra Costa Times article as saying: “We’re going to win” and “After we go out and beat Salesian we’ll have to take the rest of our games one at a time.”
; “Honest to God, that was so out of character for me,” Jordan said twenty-one years later. “I never said those types of things. I always liked Joe Namath. Maybe that had something to do with it. I don’t know. I was just a kid.”
Jordan’s quotes weren’t what bothered Shaughnessy. What bothered him most was a quote attributed to Ladouceur in the same article.
“If Jay has a good day we can take them apart,” Ladouceur said.
“I got pissed off over that,” Shaughnessy admitted. “I told our kids it’s about respect and they don’t respect us very much. I told them I was going to take that article and give it to Ladouceur when we shake hands in the middle of the field after we win.”
Ladouceur and Shaughnessy are alike in many ways and different in many others. They are both taskmasters who teach fundamental football. They both believe in discipline, toughness, and outworking their opponents.
Shaughnessy always has been extremely superstitious—every penny he finds on the ground on game day is another touchdown his team will score in the game. Ladouceur doesn’t believe in luck.
Shaughnessy allowed players to put anything they wanted on their helmets—stickers, nicknames, whatever. One player wrote “Chili” on his headgear. When the coach asked if that was his nickname, the player said no. Chili was his favorite food. Shag just laughed.
Ladouceur didn’t even issue single-digit numbers for fear of drawing attention to the individual. Some of his former players were disappointed when he allowed players’ names to be printed on the backs of De La Salle jerseys.
The two coaches had opposite personalities. Shaughnessy is gregarious and animated while Ladouceur is quiet and detached.
“Shag appealed to the macho in kids,” Chuck Lafferty said. “Bob appealed to the human in kids.”
Shaughnessy was always looking for an edge. De La Salle players had taken refuge under a weeping willow tree on a stifling hot day before the 1981 game. Salesian players were walking past when a player put on his helmet, lowered his head, and ran headlong into the De La Salle bus as the Spartans watched wide-eyed.
“He left a big dent in the fender,” Shaughnessy said, chuckling at the memory. “I figured it would cost us a couple hundred bucks, but it was worth it. That was worth two touchdowns right there.”
De La Salle led 17–7 early in the fourth quarter only to watch Shaughnessy’s running game kick into high gear. The Chiefs pulled away, 21–17, and Shaughnessy fulfilled his promise when the game was over.
He claims he only gave the article to Ladouceur. Others say he shoved the article in Ladouceur’s face. Whichever, the incident almost sparked a confrontation at midfield between coaches and players from both teams.
What Shaughnessy didn’t realize was that many of his players were behind him yelling at Ladouceur, which sent De La Salle players scrambling to defend their coach.
“When he turned around and saw his kids it shocked him, too,” Ladouceur said. “He said, ‘I don’t want this,’ and started pushing them away. I thought it was going to blow into a full-fledged riot.”
Afterward, Shaughnessy made it sound as if he were only trying to mentor the young coach by teaching him a little humility. Ladouceur was infuriated. “He shoved the article in my face,” he snapped to a Contra Costa Times reporter after the game. “It was totally unprofessional.”
“What I should’ve done is taken him aside,” Shaughnessy said twenty-two years later. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of the kids. I’m real ashamed of what happened. I’ll say that until my dying day.”
Both coaches were called in front of the league’s rules and sportsmanship committee. Shaughnessy was reprimanded.
“Basically, what they did was chew my ass over that,” Shaughnessy said. “The principal at Salesian loved to win. I remember we were driving back to school after the hearing and he said: ‘They can say what they want but they can’t change the score.’ ”
Shaughnessy knew his team was in trouble heading into the season finale against Ladouceur’s Spartans the following year. The Spartans of 1982 already had thumped two teams from a supposedly superior public-school league, outscored opponents 377–56, and were one win away from the first undefeated regular season in school history.
In addition, Shag noticed throughout the year that there was a De La Salle scout at almost every one of his team’s games.
“They knew us better than we knew ourselves,” he said.
A victory over Salesian would give Ladouceur’s team its first-ever league championship and its first North Coast Section playoff bid. A loss meant the Spartans would share the conference title with the Chieftains. In that case, Salesian would go to the playoffs on the strength of its head-to-head victory.
The game was hardly a game at all. The Spartans scored on six of their first seven possessions and outgained the Chiefs 389–60 in a 48–0 whitewashing.
“If anybody would’ve told me the final score would be 48–0 I would’ve said they were crazy,” Shaughnessy said afterward.
That De La Salle team went on to accomplish something a Shaughnessy-coached team never did—win a North Coast Section title.
The seesaw rivalry continued in 1983 when De La Salle committed nine turnovers and watched Salesian end the Spartans’ hopes for an unbeaten season. The Spartans turned the tables the following year. An offense led by future quarterbacks coach Mark Panella exploded for five second-half touchdowns en route to a 42–7 win that would serve as a springboard for the program’s second NCS 2A title in three years.
That, however, was Shaughnessy’s final season at Salesian. He still considered himself a Chieftain for life. He didn’t want to leave. It still brings tears to his eyes to discuss the philosophical differences with the Salesian principal that resulted in his leaving the school where he had taught and coached for seventeen years.
He took over at St. Mary’s, his alma mater, the following year, but his new team appeared to be no match for the Spartans of 1985, the most talented team Ladouceur had coached in his seven years at De La Salle.
The Spartans had won thirteen straight games by an average score of 45–9. Their offense was averaging 440 yards per game but couldn’t score a touchdown in the first half against Shaughnessy’s new team. St. Mary’s led 13–3 at halftime, its first touchdown coming on a 68-yard pass and the second coming on a play that was pure, unfiltered Shag.
It was a halfback pass. His strong-armed halfback took a pitch and instead of sweeping the right end he stopped and threw a pass all the way back across the field to a wide-open receiver streaking down the left sideline. The 20-yard pass traveled 40 yards in the air.
De La Salle players noticed something else during the first half. It almost seemed as if the St. Mary’s defense knew what was coming. Players kept reporting that Shag knew what plays Ladouceur was calling and was relaying the information to his players prior to the snap.
“They don’t know our plays,” Eidson kept insisting.
“So I’m wandering around in the end zone late in the second quarter and I see them stealing the walkie-talkie plays,” said former De La Salle basketball coach Steve Coccimiglio, who was doubling as the student supervisor that night. “Blair Thomas was calling the plays down to Lad, and their coaches were on the same frequency. These were real cheap walkie-talkies. They had a couple guys standing in front of another guy who’s got a walkie-talkie and they’re stealing the plays.”
Ladouceur took Coccimiglio’s eyewitness account seriously enough to call the tight-end middle screen early in the third quarter. It was a play he hadn’t run in three years and therefore a play Shaughnessy couldn’t possibly have anticipated. When they saw Shag running up and down the sideline screaming, “Tight-end screen! Tight-end screen!” Ladouceur threw his headset to the ground, disgusted.
It was years before Ladouceur would consider wearing a headset again.
“I should’ve just gotten on the bus and left when it was 13–3,” Shag said. “I could’ve just said, ‘Oops, I
thought the game was over.’ ”
De La Salle scored 47 points in the second half—crossing the goal line seven times in less than seventeen minutes—to win 50–13. As the touchdowns piled up Shaughnessy could be heard yelling across the field, “How many touchdowns do you need, asshole?”
“Cheater!” Eidson screamed back, shaking his fist.
Coccimiglio and others claim that was the only time they ever saw Ladouceur leave his starters in for the entire game. Ladouceur denies running up the score that day—or any day.
“Shaughnessy is Shaughnessy,” Ladouceur said. “Did that surprise me? No. Did that anger me? No. That’s just him. I don’t think he’s a bad guy. I think he’s a good guy. He’s done a lot for kids. He’s built programs up and given kids a sense of pride. He’s done wonderful things as a coach but Shag is Shag. I never wanted to stick it to him. I loved beating him but I never wanted to humiliate him because you’re not just humiliating him, you’re humiliating kids. I don’t humiliate kids.”
That was the last time Ladouceur and Shaughnessy met head-to-head. The Catholic Athletic League was disbanded when the North Coast Section realigned member schools, and their two teams ended up in different leagues.
Shaughnessy retired after the 2000 season with a 254–118–6 record, sixteen league championships, and fourteen NCS playoff appearances. Perhaps his greatest claim to fame is a 3–4 record against Ladouceur.
16
REDEMPTION
The thought had never occurred to Britt or Rick Cecil. It was assumed that Britt would attend the local public high school. Then during the fall of his eighth-grade year, he and his father watched a De La Salle football game on television.
“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if I could go there?” Britt asked his dad. Rick Cecil was intrigued, but the conversation ended there. Later, without his son’s knowledge, he began to investigate the possibility.
Rick Cecil spent eight years as an electronics technician in the Navy before becoming a systems specialist at the Oakland Air Traffic Control Center. Rick and his wife, Paige, took a keen interest in their son’s athletic career.
