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am that achieved the right to be labeled as such. By all logic, the school should not have had a football team in the first place. To say that Rutgers-Newark, a.k.a. The Newark College of Arts and Science of Rutgers University, was not exactly known as a hotbed of college football would be a gross understatement. Rutgers- Newark was not flying UNDER the football radar. It was not even NEAR it! There was no "official" team on campus. The REAL Rutgers Football team, i.e. The Scarlet Knights play BIG TIME football, in a BIG TIME league (the Big 10) , and in a BIG STADIUM located in Piscataway, NJ. They might as well have been on a different planet as compared to us.
Still, there were enough former high school players like myself walking around there who were interested in forming some type of squad. It would not be a "real" NCAA team, but rather a club whose members would play football against similar clubs from other colleges and universities. The REAL football would be played by scholarship athletes recruited for the main campus in Piscataway, NJ. However, during those years, so-called Club Football was a popular campus activity and many former high school players and colleges participated. So, the Rutgers-Newark Red Raiders Football Club was created.
At that time, I was not even aware that we had ANY kind of a team until I saw a flier in the campus center that was recruiting players. I had always desired to continue playing after my high school days. Now, I finally had the chance. I didn't care that this was not the Big Time. It was football. So, I joined the "club" and became a proud Red Raider in my junior year.
THE FACILITIES
There may have been plenty of willing athletes, but there was also one rather large problem: our urban campus was completely ill-equipped to field ANY kind of football team, much less one to compete on a collegiate level. In fact, there were virtually no practice facilities of ANY kind at the school. Our "gym" was down the street from the campus in an old converted high school the college used for extra class space. There was a decrepit pool but no weight training facilities at all. So, we decided to create one in a spare equipment room. I'll never forget training in that humid air with the smell of chlorine stinging my nostrils.
And, more importantly, there were no playing fields on campus. None. Zip. Zilch. No fields = no practice. No practice = terrible performance (more on this later). It also meant no stadium. We were literally a team with no place to call home. When we did practice it was on a field that we rented from the city of Newark. The field itself was located a few miles from the campus in a mostly residential neighborhood. So, to make practice, we had to take a bus. If you missed the bus, you had to find your way by other means. At times, it made for sparsely attended practices. And, if that wasn't bad enough,the locker room facilities were in an old Quonset hut that had no heat or coverings on the windows. Any kid from the neighborhood, including girls, could walk right up to any window for a free "show".
I remember there was a Hersey Chocolate factory nearby that always provided the most heavenly aroma for the rare occasion we were all able to practice together. Also, there were railroad tracks that ran alongside the facility. Occasionally, a punt or kick would clear the fence edging the field and land next to the tracks. One day, while retrieving one of those errant kicks, we discovered a dead body lying there! This was a slice of life (and death), if you will, in one of the toughest cities in the Country at that time.
Our home games were played at Newark Schools Stadium, a decrepit brick facility built in the 1920's. It was used by the city to host local high school football championship games and looked as if it hadn't received any maintenance or improvements since the time it was actually built. I remember waiting on line to shower after the one home game we because only ONE shower head was actually working!
I also recall playing some of our away games in "stadiums" that were hardly any better than ours. In fact, I remember one game against Ramapo College in Mahwah, NJ that was played in a driving rain storm. Ramapo's field was sunken, below ground level, and had virtually no drainage. By halftime there must have been almost 3 or 4 inches of water covering the field. After one tackle, I found myself nearly drowning with my face pinned to the ground under a pile of bodies!
Surprisingly, our equipment was at least adequate, if not excellent - most of the time. Since the football team was technically a "club" our budget was drawn from the college's fund for student activity. In other words, we actually had some money to purchase things like efficient helmets and attractive uniforms. So, we might at least LOOK like a team despite the fact that our woeful lack of practice facilities left us far from performing like one. But, there were times when, despite the teams best intentions, things still went terribly wrong - like the time my uniform jersey did not arrive in time for a home game so I had to TAPE my number unto the jersey!
THE COACHING STAFF
Our head coach was a volunteer graduate student named Tom Tullo. A more perfect moniker could not have been created to fit a human being. Powerfully built, he looked like a bodybuilder with a thick chest and heavy arms. But, there was just one thing he lacked to have a perfect football body - height. Coach Tullo was only about 5'5' tall! In other words, he was TOO LOW to really be a football player. Of course, we teased him about it. But, he was good-natured and smart. Despite his size, he had been an excellent high school player and was very well versed in all aspects of the game. He was not a "screamer" like many coaches that I had during my career. Besides, we weren't all that different in age and I think that he knew that. He was a positive force and coached by teaching rather than by intimidation. The entire team not only liked him, but respected him, too.
Coaches were not paid and, so, there was little consistency beyond Coach Tullo, who never missed a practice. One of the coaches who did come on a fairly regular basis was a young black man named Rob Poteet. A former player himself, he coached the backs on both offense and defense. Coming from a high school that was virtually all white, having a black coach was both challenging and rewarding for me. It was a challenge because his vernacular was one that, up to that time, I had little exposure to. Often, I had to figure out what the hell he was saying before I could perform in the manner he expected me to! It was rewarding because he made it fun and I learned a great deal from him.
THE PLAYERS
Despite the lack of scholarship players and the dreadful facilities, there was no shortage of young men looking for a shot at playing college football. Most had some high school playing experience, but not all. Since it was a "club" team it was open to all. So, there were a handful of players that were willing to try the game for the very first time. However, a number of players were not only experienced, but were actually quite good. In fact, there were a few that, but for one circumstance or another, could have played on almost ANY college football team in the Country. For some, it was personal - Jesse Stokes, a 225 lb. linebacker with mad skills, had a full scholarship to a Big 10 football powerhouse but couldn't bear being too far away from his girlfriend and their young child. So, he came home to Newark to play. Others, like 6'3", 230 lb. tight end, Joe Cook, had the largest, most gifted hands I have ever seen on a football field. He was a true rebel who simply did not want the regimen associated with a major college football program. There was also 6'3", 260 lb. defensive lineman, Jed Weintraub, who choose Rutgers-Newark simply because it WAS small. Besides, he was more interested in education than football, but he could sure play.
Then there were the players who had virtually no experience and very little natural skill to make up for the lack of it. One of these young men was Dave Neglia. Only about 5'10" and 190 lbs., he compensated for what he lacked in athleticism with grit and determination. He knew that he might never play in a game but he never wavered in his enthusiasm. He not only never missed a practice, he never even missed a drill!
One of the more brutal exercises in football practice is one known as "The Nutcracker". That's a fairly descriptive name for it. Two players lie on the ground, head to head. One player has a football on his chest. When the coach blows the whistle, both players leap to their feet and the one with the football tries to overpower the other who is trying to stop him. The collisions can be frightening to even watch, much less participate in. It's a drill designed to develop fearlessness and toughness. And, it can - if it doesn't kill you. Well, NO ONE wanted to match up with the linebacker I mentioned in the previous paragraph. At 6'2" and 225 chiseled pounds, Jesse Stokes was was a fierce tackler. He didn't want to just stop you - he wanted to consume you! When he hit you, you found yourself rearranging all of your equipment, including your underwear. If he smashed you on Monday, you were still feeling it on Wednesday or Thursday. If I knew that I would be matched up one-on-one with Jesse, I often found myself having "equipment problems", meaning I would have to miss my turn in line. And, I'm not embarrassed to admit it.
Well, one person who NEVER missed was Mr. Dave Neglia. Whenever the coach would ask for a "volunteer" to match up with Jesse, Neglia never hesitated. Never. And, Stokes would simply annihilate him. Every time! He would hit Dave so hard that I would have to avert my eyes. But, Neglia would bounce right up, dust himself off, rearrange his gear, and yell, "Come on! Let's do it again"!!
Dave's dedication paid off, and eventually he did get a chance to play in a game. It was our last contest of the year against Catholic University in Washington, D.C. We were really banged up and we needed all the help we could get. So, he was finally pressed into service as a defensive tackle. Just before game time I remember him pacing nervously on the sideline and telling him how happy I was that he would finally get his chance. However, on the opening kickoff - the very beginning of the game - as he was streaking down the field to get into his first action, he was blindsided and knocked out cold. I mean out! He never played a single down! No matter. He was never going to be a football player and he did just fine with his life. I heard that he became a doctor. (more on this game later)
THE GAMES
Despite the lack of facilities, practice time, and just about everything else, we still managed to play a fairly ambitious schedule that included Catholic University, Farleigh Dickinson, Scranton, Fairfield, and Ramapo Universities, Norwalk State University in Connecticut, and even St. Leo's College in Tampa, Fla. None of these schools could ever be mistaken for the likes of Michigan or Ohio State when it came to football prowess. They were all in a similar to position to us: some very talented players mixed in with others who were not. However, I don't believe that any one of them lacked for proper facilities in the same way that Rutgers-Newark did.
While the main campus in New Brunswick was preparing for BIG time football, we hoped to just survive. So, we went into every game at a distinct disadvantage - and it showed. Because of some of our more talented players, we would begin every game competitively before our lack of cohesion caused by the absence of proper practice time kicked in. By halftime, most games were over for us.
During my two years of playing ball there we never won a single game. Not one.
But, in a sense, it didn't really matter. This was NOT big time college football. It was more about the experience then it was about winning. And, the memories that I made during those years would prove invaluable to me as a person.
I remember playing against Scranton University in their stadium, a modern structure that would accommodate about 20,000 spectators. Of course, the stadium was virtually empty with a few hundred fans on their sideline while we had just a handful. I recall that the stadium was so empty, in fact, I could hear the echo of the quarterback as he barked the signals. Still, among that handful were my friend Lance Nelson and my father. Lance drove my father in his fancy, new corvette the 100 plus miles just to watch me play. And, yes, we lost that game, too.
I remember the INCREDIBLY long bus ride we took to play against St. Leo's College in Tampa. Florida. The team had an option to fly, play, and return almost immediately, or save some money by taking a bus. If we saved money we could stay an extra day and go to Disney World. Well, the lure of a talking rat (as some of the players called Mickey) was just to much. We choose the bus. The problem was that no one told us how miserable a 26 hour bus ride with a bunch of smelly football players would be. Plus, someone decided to spike the cooler we filled with Gatorade for the ride with vodka. Half the team was sick from drinking the spiked Gatorade by the time we reached D.C.! And, a bus load of half-drunk, Then, the cheerleaders who had come along only had one song to play on their tape machine (remember, this was in the days before personal electronic devices). I heard "Fly Robin Fly" by Silver Convention over and over and over again. In fact, I heard it so many timesI thought that my ears would bleed!
When we finally made it to Florida we checked into a surprisingly beautiful hotel. Then, during the night before the game, as a prank, someone sank all of the hotel's lawn furniture in the pool. The coach was not happy. I found out years later that the deed was perpetrated by two brothers from Ridgefield Park, NJ, Dennis and Donnie Hard, a.k.a. The Hard Brothers. Both were good, hard-nosed players and couldn't have looked more different as brothers. Don was tall and lean. Dennis was shorter and thick. Don eventually joined the Marine reserves, became a captain and survived the horrific bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut. After school, Dennis disappeared and I never heard from him again.
And, yes, we lost that game, too.
Perhaps, my strongest memory is also the last one I had as a player for the Rutgers-Newark Red Raiders. Our final game of the season was against the #1 ranked Club football team in the Nation, The Catholic University Cardinals of Washington, D.C. Since it was the end of a very long and debilitating season, we barely had enough players to make up a starting team. In fact, we really DIDN'T have enough. As I mentioned previously, this would force us to use players (like Dave Neglia) who were really not ready for "prime time". In fact, even with using all of our reserves it would still not be enough to field a team. Unless we could find a solution, we would be forced to forfeit our final game. After all we had been through, no one wanted to see that happen. So, we did what we had to do: our head coach, Tom Tullo, would suit up and play - both ways! He was still young (24 or 25) and kept himself in great shape. Besides, this was NOT the NCAA. No one would notice OR care. So, Coach geared up and prepared himself to play. Due to injuries, I would also be playing out of position, moving from my strong safety position to linebacker.
We received the opening kickoff and immediately began a sustained drive into Catholic's territory. The drive eventually stalled but we kicked a field goal for a 3-0 lead. It was a total surprise. No one believed that we should have even been in the same stadium with them. And, they were right. Our lead was VERY short-lived - they scored 70 unanswered points - 70! They scored in every way imaginable - on kicks, punts, runs, passes, interceptions, fumble recoveries and more.
If their water boy had suited up, I'm sure that he would have found a way to score, as well. Surprisingly, thought, I had a career game. I made over 20 tackles, 15 of them solo. At one point in the huddle, I looked at my teammates and invited any one of them to join me in making a tackle. But, it was to no avail. They were simply spent. There was nothing left to give.
After the game, I sat with Coach Zullo for some time in the visitors locker room. We had both given our all and were exhausted. Then, to add insult to injury, we were informed that the showers in our locker room were not operating and we would have to use the same ones as our opponents. Tom and I were not happy. It's one thing to lose graciously. It's totally another to shower with them after they've kicked your ass up one side of the field to another. But, this is how it happens away from the glare of BIG TIME college football. There was no fame. No fortune. No glamour. And, if that was not bad enough, in one final irony, we ran out of ice for our bus ride home. Considering that I needed it badly for a thumb injury I had sustained during the game, it would make for a long ride home (about 4 hours) and an exercise in patience.
I had always fantasized about playing major college football and, maybe, even beyond. But, like a lot of dreams, that scenario was not realized. But, you know, that's OK. I made memories with a great bunch of guys that I still love to this day. And, in the end, isn't that the most important thing? (But, I sure would have liked to have won a game - just one!
EPILOGUE
I've lost track with virtually all of my teammates. Just one, the big defensive lineman, Jed Weintraub, became a lifelong friend. We don't see each other often but when we do it's like we were never away. And, we keep in touch on a fairly regular basis. As for the others, they exist now only in my memory. . .
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