No More Mr. Mopey

The last time he played football last year, Antonio Pellot broke fibula and partially tore his ACL.

"I lost my mind," he recalls. "I was just really sad and upset. I got fat. I put on 40 pounds."

Fortunately, Tony didn't resign himself to failure. The setback was a pulling back to slingshot forward.

On Friday night, Tony, a senior, wrecked havoc on the Hillcrest Christian School of Thousand Oaks. He came out with something to prove. He got two sacks and recovered two fumbles. By tackling the QB as he was throwing, he prevented a two point conversion.

He was a monster.

It was a bright spot in an otherwise disappointing game that saw Lighthouse Christian Academy limp out 0-58.

The game marked the end of a decade long rivalry between LCA and Hillcrest, both Christian schools, both named the Saints. For more than 10 years, there was a fierceness in competition between these two schools -- and a stinging resentment if one side lost.

Whichever team achieved the upper hand, ran up the score mercilessly, to avenge some previous year's loss. In 10 years, Hillcrest has won more of the face-ups than Lighthouse. But on Friday, Hillcrest relented; after running up the score ridiculously against the beleaguered LCA, they eased off and desisted from scoring still more TDs.

With three minutes left in the game, Hillcrest took a knee for three downs and punted. They saw their rivals with eyes of compassion instead of the age-old spirit of revenge.

Meanwhile, former LCA football players -- many of them now parents of the kids on the field -- saw with eyes of despair. Why weren't the fellows on the fields making blocks? Why were they playing like gentlemen? This is not polo, or chess. This is football. Why weren't they lighting players up?

LCA's hopes were pegged largely on a couple of players, one of whom was junior Zion Jenkins. Hillcrest realized very quickly who to lockdown. They swarmed Zion like ants on an anthill.

Even on kickoff, they aimed away from Zion.

On defense (LCA is so small that the same guys play offense and defense), Zion was able to do a lot of solo plays. He turned into a cop Friday night chasing down every getaway car that broke through and raced down the field for oodles of yards. There were no sirens blaring, but anyone he caught -- and he caught them a bunch of times -- knew they were in trouble. They'd be wrangled to the ground.

Another bright spot was the emergence of a totally new and unexpected sensation. His name is Andrew Morales, who made tackles and successful runs.

Short and muscular, the Drewski (a nickname bestowed Friday night) used his lower center of balance and fearlessness to drive through Hillcrest.

The Drewski had attended LCA's feeder school, the Lighthouse Church School, but attended Pacifica last year. He returned to Lighthouse because, he says, while he made friends at Pacific, he realized Lighthouse was family.

LCA fans went wild to see a newbie making waves on the field.

There were good things that happened among the bad (the many bad things). But the night belonged to Tony.

When he broke his fibula last year, his spirit broke.

He wandered listlessly through the halls of LCA, put his head down in class. He asked for prayer every day for his leg.

He moped.

But he didn't give up. He started working out with the guys. With his injured leg, he pistol-squatted with weight.

He had something to prove Friday night, and he came out charging like a bull.

His exploits are wind in his sails.

"I needed that just to bounce back up, to fight harder," he said after the game.

About this reporter: Michael Ashcraft teaches journalism at the Lighthouse Christian Academy.