1979 Condors Pictures & Nationals Write-up

Cliff Towne is correct about the weather and the score, but here's the real story. I'm sure TK and others will verify it. I had been playing on the team for a year--the Nationals were early this year, and we all flew back East to Washington D.C. in a big DC-10. It was the same night as the crash of another DC-10. It was a big story--they were called "air-busses" at the time, and you got a discount 'cause it was the redeye. Anyway, we arrived at the airport at around dawn, and most of us rented a van, which I proceeded to drive all the way to State College, Penn. -- which is located in the very middle of the state. I remember the landscape being miles and miles of rolling hills with the same vegetation. We arrived in State College, and I roomed with Michael Mininni's brother and maybe Kip Harmer, who was a friend of mine from high school and who had introduced me to the team.

During this time there was a lot of substance abuse--(something I never really did, but what the heck, it was my first trip back East!), which is why I was able to drive all that way with everyone else sleeping. Anyway, I remember seeing Storke there and hearing some of the eastern boys ribbing us, calling us the beach boys, but, hell, I was proud that I had a tan and long blonde hair, and what was wrong with surfing? They seemed to think or insinuate that we were a bunch of pussies. I also hung out with Tony Zweig, who later played QB with the Circus and Jeff Soto--they were there for the Eastern's freestyle championship. Anyway, the first day we faced Cornell, all dressed in red. It was a big game because we had beaten them (myself watching--inelgible to play) at UCSB's Harter Stadium the previous August for the title. They had Danny Weiss this time. He had missed the championship game the year before due to knee surgery. He was a really nice guy at this time, not as cocky as in later years, but who am I to talk? They might have had Jim Herrick, but if so, he didn't have a big impact. We beat Cornell handily, just snuffed their offense. We faced Glassboro later that afternoon. They had been undefeated, and TK had been singing their praises for the past couple months. He would go on and on about their zone defense and how awesome their energy was, and we listened and nodded ours heads and thought, yeah, he's just trying to keep us from being cocky. Well, that morning or afternoon, there was very little wind, if any. It was wet and maybe even raining, but no wind. I remember going deep for a long bomb from TK or Bart or Smeck and just soaring above the Glassboro defender for a score. I used to hang in the air and kind of glide, which made it seem I was jumping higher. Anyway, Storke had seen the catch and later told me that it was one of the best or the best he had ever seen, which was nice to hear, but hell, I was doing that all the time. [I'm not sure if that's when I received my nickname--sometime around then--I think it officially stuck when I snared a pass over Bill Clark, who was most definitely the most gifted athlete whom I ever played with--he was certainly the best jumper. Somehow the name stuck, probably because of my personality, which was pretty flighty, and my pretty-boy image, which, regretfully, never really got me anywhere with the girls. Don't let anyone tell you differently!]

Now, we had crushed the two real threats, so we were feeling pretty cocky. The next day, we faced a Michigan State team who jumped right into our faces and gave us a good game. It was a close score, but they never really took the lead and most of us thought it was just the result of fatigue from the day before. Our last game was against a Orlando, FL team, whom we treated like a joke, and who played us tough. Good guys and solid players, but the game was never really in doubt. So, we're unbeaten and Michigan State (may have been Cornell, but I don't think so) and Glassboro had to fight it out for a chance to meet us in the final the next day. We had no idea what awaited us.

That night Michael Mininni and his wife entrusted the well-being of this young rookie (that's me) with his brother. We met some girls at a bar or restaurant, and they seemed interested--they were up from New Jersey and were there for the game. Well, hell, we took a drive in the hills up to some small lake, where Michael's brother tried to get in good with the nice looking brunette--or maybe the plain, pudgy blonde--it doesn't matter, but I remember him sprawled out on a boat with this chick--maybe 12:00 at night or later--and drunk. The chick next to me never seemed interested, which kind of puzzled me at the time--I mean this was her opportunity to meet a real beach blonde. Well, I finally convinced them to drive us back in the fog. Along the way the missed a turn and ran smack into a large embankment. Luckily, no one was hurt and we got back safely and snuck in without too much disturbance. It must have been 2:00 AM.

The next morning you would think I would be one of the ones really feeling it, but no, I was probably feeling better than 90% of my teammates, which tells you a little more about what thay were doing the night before. We should have been resting up, but it was our first trip together and fun was an important part of the equation.

Well, we got to the fields and Glassboro had brought a good 100 fans from Jersey, as rude and abrasive and as full of energy as any team I have ever seen since. Music was blaring--I mean full decible over stereo speakers--The Car's had just come out with their first album and the 'Boro, as they called themselves, were doing sidearm drills, jumping around, calling us beachboys, pretty boys, etc. I remember seeing the good looking brunette from the night before--on the sidelines with one of the Boro players--no wonder she wasn't interested! I think they were trying to get me drunk so I couldn't play the next day--I swear to God! Well, the Boro jumped on top of our offense and we didn't recover until halfway through the second half--remember it was timed, so they could stall, etc. Well, early on there were several key plays which kind of set the tone. We were using this rather elementary "umbrella offense," trying to swing the disc from side to side, then get it in the middle to Schmechel or Bart and then downfield. Well, I was starting by this time, and TK threw me a rather simple pass over the zone, but I misjudged it and it sailed over my head into the end zone. I thought I could jump straight up, but should have just turned and ran under it. Too late, the damage was done. TK had a string of throwing errors and everyone else was tightening up and wondering what the hell he was doing--it seemed like he was trying to carry us, but there was no need to, and to his defense, no one came to help.

I remember another long bomb to me--I was open all the time, because the deep player would drift into the middle. This time I wasn't going to let it sail over my head, so I turned and ran. Well, the disc never got any true life and by the time I realized it was a little short, the Boro defender had an easy pick--it would have been easy for me to come back and out jump the guy, but I wanted to make sure. Well, those two plays just eliminated any confidence in chucking it deep, which was a big mistake. Late in the first half or early in the second half we finally got it going. People like Schmeck--who never dropped anything-- were dropping things left and right. One time Schmeck dropped a pass in the end zone, but this time I was ready--I had run over to make certain and sure enough the disc bounced off his hands, so I slid over into the corner of the end zone for a nice save. No big deal, but it was the kind of hustle play we needed to get us going. I mean, that was my job, to be a sparkplug. We started coming back, but they were killing time with short dumps just as the count reached its limit--I think it was 12 seconds at the time. We kept coming and coming. Shepherd hit me in the end zone with maybe a minute and a half left to cut it to down one.

We lined up and threw off. They started in their own end zone, and we pinned them there. The count reached ten or eleven two or three diffrent times. Each time they dumped it up in the air and one of their players was alert enough for the save. The last dump was a killer. The guy just threw it up above his head because no one was open. I was maybe ten feet away and was waiting for the defender to just jump up and knock it down. Too late, one of their playes knew what to do and grabbed the fluttering disc out of the air with maybe 10 seconds to play. The clock ran out. I could have run over and smashed the damn thing to the ground. Nobody was there to stop me, but it didn't hit me until it was too late. I think one reason I didn't do it is because I would have had to pass the disc to a teammate for a score. I was pretty shaky throwing under pressure because I didn't have a sidearm yet. I should have cheated on my man, but that's the way the whole game went, especially early on--no breaks. The Boro had basically shoved it in our faces. They weren't as good as us--they didn't have the disc skills, although they were careful not to turn it over, and they used their sidearms effectively. The weather was the deciding factor. This time there was wind and rain in the first half, which set the tone, and then they just basically held the disc the second half. It was a dark moment in Condor History, no doubt, and the first sign of more frustrations to come. Some people blamed TK for trying to do too much; others knew better. Some people were out of shape, and if it weren't for T Shep and Kip and Carlysle, and maybe Mininni, Bart and Poodle, we would have embarrassed ourselves even more.

After this debacle, we rededicated ourselves. The next year TK's farm clubs (UCSB--Tommy Lewis and Curtis Weeks--and believe it or not, San Marcos High School with Doug and Dan the Bum) started to pay off. We didn't lose again--as a complete team (there were times when we split up into two teams) until the following Nationals, a year and a half later--it was an extra-long wait. But that's another story, albeit one that is just as interesting and perhaps even more disappointing.

Johnny O