East High and a Legend....
After graduating from the eighth grade in 1964, I had the unusual opportunity in those days to have a choice of where I could go to high school. Open enrollment was not a feature in our education system in those days, so normally you went to high school in the attendance zone of a particular institution roughly where you lived. My brother, who was older than I, had gone to North High, because we lived in their attendance zone. In 1964, however, the Phoenix Union District was opening a new high school at 48th Street and Van Buren called East High. You can see that the naming systems for high schools in those days were fairly uncomplicated. My family lived at 37th Street and Palm Lane and everyone east of 36th Street could go to the traditional and established North High or go to the new school. I didn't choose East because I knew Coach Youree and wanted to play for him. In fact, I had never heard of him or any of the teachers at the new school. I chose East because it was a chance to start something from the beginning of its existence. It was the challenge of it and a decision that I have never regretted. John F. Kennedy had given a speech in Houston where he said "we choose to go to the moon and do the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard." He challenged us and those words had a great impact on my life and have always stuck with me through the many challenges that I have had over the years.
I didn't go to East to play basketball. The first sport up was football, and it was real football with helmets and pads and jock straps. These were things that I was totally unfamiliar with, as Papago Elementary had only a flag football team. I was pretty good at that, but knew nothing of the rigors of tackle football. This is where I had the first encounter with Royce Youree. East High did not have enough students to have freshmen, jayvee, and varsity football the first year. We, in fact, did not have any seniors, so they settled on just having one team- a jayvee level squad. This gave the coaching staff the opportunity of establishing a baseline of expectations for the future of their programs- not just football- and not just worrying about pandering to kids and parents to have numbers. One of the expectations that they decided to create was that East High kids were going to be tough as nails, so with an initial group of about eighty boys they put on a Marine style training regimen that I am positive would get them all fired today. Within a couple of weeks they had it down to the mid-twenties, and not a day went by where I did not think about quitting. Two things kept me going- my Mom was as tough an athlete as I ever knew and I knew quitting would hurt her, and my good friend Eddie Hall, with whom I went to practice every day. Eddie was clearly going to be an outstanding football player, where I was not. I was skinny, scrawny, and not very tall, but Eddie kept encouraging me to hang in there and not be a quitter. So I did. I made it all the way to the last week when I broke my wrist. I was there when East played it's first game against a new Tempe school- McClintock, who was also playing their first game with their new coach Karl Kiefer. East won 8-6 on a last second play. I didn't get in, but remember well celebrating on the field. As we celebrated, I remember running into Tom Vermillion, an offensive tackle, who obviously had a concussion and didn't even know the game was over. Tough, baby. A different time for sure. I barely played all year, but as the season went on, I grew to respect the coaches a great deal, in particular Coach Youree. I had never been around someone like him before.
After football, it was known that Coach Youree was going to head up the basketball program. There would be a jayvee team and TWO freshmen teams strategically called A and B. Most of my friends from football, including Eddie, were moving on to play basketball, so I wanted to do that also, even though my training at Papago was zero and my career there comprised twenty seconds. I had a career line of one rebound and 0-1 from the field. I came up to Coach Youree on the first day of practice and told him that as soon as the cast came off my wrist, I would be coming out. That wouldn't be for another seven or eight weeks, which would cover a fair amount of the season. I remember to this day the look he gave me- a look of respect for surviving the football experience to almost the end, a look of sympathy for my condition, and a look of no way you're going to play basketball. He had heard that I was a pretty decent baseball player and told that by the time I got my cast off, baseball would be just around the corner. Maybe I should skip basketball and come out for baseball. He would be coaching that, too. But I was insistent- I wanted to play basketball with my buddies. I truly believe that if I hadn't stuck in there through that hell of football, he would have told me no, but he eventually relented and let me come out for Freshman B.
By the time I was able to play, there were only a few games left. Being out so late and being on the B team, I did not get a good choice of uniforms. Mine was way too big and was not a good look. Fortunately, I did not get in any games until the very last one. There were about 30 seconds left in the game when the Freshman B coach, who had also been one of the football coaches, called for me to go in, so I ran to the scorer's table to check in. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your perspective, the clock was running while I waited at the table and I was not able to get on floor until only seven seconds remained. So, I ran out, the ball was inbounded to someone else and the game was over. That was my freshman season of basketball- one game, seven seconds, no rebounds. So, think if you will about my basketball career to this point. Seventh grade, eighth grade, and freshman year- a total of twenty seven seconds played, one rebound, 0-1 from the field.
Next time- East High, part 2
After graduating from the eighth grade in 1964, I had the unusual opportunity in those days to have a choice of where I could go to high school. Open enrollment was not a feature in our education system in those days, so normally you went to high school in the attendance zone of a particular institution roughly where you lived. My brother, who was older than I, had gone to North High, because we lived in their attendance zone. In 1964, however, the Phoenix Union District was opening a new high school at 48th Street and Van Buren called East High. You can see that the naming systems for high schools in those days were fairly uncomplicated. My family lived at 37th Street and Palm Lane and everyone east of 36th Street could go to the traditional and established North High or go to the new school. I didn't choose East because I knew Coach Youree and wanted to play for him. In fact, I had never heard of him or any of the teachers at the new school. I chose East because it was a chance to start something from the beginning of its existence. It was the challenge of it and a decision that I have never regretted. John F. Kennedy had given a speech in Houston where he said "we choose to go to the moon and do the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard." He challenged us and those words had a great impact on my life and have always stuck with me through the many challenges that I have had over the years.
I didn't go to East to play basketball. The first sport up was football, and it was real football with helmets and pads and jock straps. These were things that I was totally unfamiliar with, as Papago Elementary had only a flag football team. I was pretty good at that, but knew nothing of the rigors of tackle football. This is where I had the first encounter with Royce Youree. East High did not have enough students to have freshmen, jayvee, and varsity football the first year. We, in fact, did not have any seniors, so they settled on just having one team- a jayvee level squad. This gave the coaching staff the opportunity of establishing a baseline of expectations for the future of their programs- not just football- and not just worrying about pandering to kids and parents to have numbers. One of the expectations that they decided to create was that East High kids were going to be tough as nails, so with an initial group of about eighty boys they put on a Marine style training regimen that I am positive would get them all fired today. Within a couple of weeks they had it down to the mid-twenties, and not a day went by where I did not think about quitting. Two things kept me going- my Mom was as tough an athlete as I ever knew and I knew quitting would hurt her, and my good friend Eddie Hall, with whom I went to practice every day. Eddie was clearly going to be an outstanding football player, where I was not. I was skinny, scrawny, and not very tall, but Eddie kept encouraging me to hang in there and not be a quitter. So I did. I made it all the way to the last week when I broke my wrist. I was there when East played it's first game against a new Tempe school- McClintock, who was also playing their first game with their new coach Karl Kiefer. East won 8-6 on a last second play. I didn't get in, but remember well celebrating on the field. As we celebrated, I remember running into Tom Vermillion, an offensive tackle, who obviously had a concussion and didn't even know the game was over. Tough, baby. A different time for sure. I barely played all year, but as the season went on, I grew to respect the coaches a great deal, in particular Coach Youree. I had never been around someone like him before.
After football, it was known that Coach Youree was going to head up the basketball program. There would be a jayvee team and TWO freshmen teams strategically called A and B. Most of my friends from football, including Eddie, were moving on to play basketball, so I wanted to do that also, even though my training at Papago was zero and my career there comprised twenty seconds. I had a career line of one rebound and 0-1 from the field. I came up to Coach Youree on the first day of practice and told him that as soon as the cast came off my wrist, I would be coming out. That wouldn't be for another seven or eight weeks, which would cover a fair amount of the season. I remember to this day the look he gave me- a look of respect for surviving the football experience to almost the end, a look of sympathy for my condition, and a look of no way you're going to play basketball. He had heard that I was a pretty decent baseball player and told that by the time I got my cast off, baseball would be just around the corner. Maybe I should skip basketball and come out for baseball. He would be coaching that, too. But I was insistent- I wanted to play basketball with my buddies. I truly believe that if I hadn't stuck in there through that hell of football, he would have told me no, but he eventually relented and let me come out for Freshman B.
By the time I was able to play, there were only a few games left. Being out so late and being on the B team, I did not get a good choice of uniforms. Mine was way too big and was not a good look. Fortunately, I did not get in any games until the very last one. There were about 30 seconds left in the game when the Freshman B coach, who had also been one of the football coaches, called for me to go in, so I ran to the scorer's table to check in. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your perspective, the clock was running while I waited at the table and I was not able to get on floor until only seven seconds remained. So, I ran out, the ball was inbounded to someone else and the game was over. That was my freshman season of basketball- one game, seven seconds, no rebounds. So, think if you will about my basketball career to this point. Seventh grade, eighth grade, and freshman year- a total of twenty seven seconds played, one rebound, 0-1 from the field.
Next time- East High, part 2
