#CIF State Championship

[santaclaralocalnews]

Last fall, the Wilcox Chargers varsity football team put forth yet another prototypically strong season under Head Coach Paul Rosa. In eight seasons, Rosa’s Chargers have been no stranger to CCS Championship and CIF State Championship games. The 2023 team was no different. In the first round of the CCS playoffs, the Chargers upset the St. Francis Lancers with one of the most impressive wins the program has ever delivered. While Wilcox would fall the next week, it was still another year of terrific football. Read complete news at svvoice.com.

[vaultermagazine]

Inland girls high school track and field leaders, March 21

Here are the Inland girls track and field leaders through meets of March 20. Marks are for the current season and for participants representing their high schools. Marks before the start of the CIF Southern Section season (February 17) and ones set while competing unattached or for club teams are not included. Only events that will be contested at the CIF State championship meet are included.

[lboogie1906]

Ronald “Ronnie” Ray Smith (March 28, 1949 – March 31, 2013) was an athlete and winner of the gold medal in the 4 × 100 m relay at the 1968 Olympics. He attended San Jose State College during the “Speed City” era and graduated in Sociology.

At the 1968 AAU Championships, Ronnie Ray Smith equaled the 100 m world record in the semifinal, repeating the same time of 9.9 which was run by Jim Hines in the same race, and Charles Greene in the other semifinal of the same competition. That evening of June 20, 1968, at Hughes Stadium in Sacramento, has been dubbed by track and field historians as the “Night of Speed.” That mark became the World Junior Record, which lasted for exactly 8 years.

At the Mexico Olympics, he ran the third leg in the American 4 × 100 m relay team that won the gold medal and set a new world record of 38.24 seconds.

Before arriving at San Jose State, he ran at Manual Arts High School in Los Angeles, finishing third in the 220-yard dash at the CIF California State Meet in 1966.

After retiring from competitions he worked at the Los Angeles Parks and Recreation Department. He was inducted into the San Jose State Sports Hall of Fame. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[loscerritoscommunitynews]

LCCN 2024 FOOTBALL PREVIEW - Cerritos hopes to duplicate last season’s magical championship run with experienced squad

@lorenkopff @ssmithabcpio @JNIEL8 @VCHS_Athletics @VCHShoops @Cerritoshs @GOGAHRHS @ahspioneers @johnglennASB @norwalk_high @whitneyvoice @LMHSMatadores @Basketball_LM @lamiradahighschool @nlmusd @VCHSBaseball

By Loren Kopff • @LorenKopff on X CERRITOS DONS                                                                                     9-6 overall last season, 3-0 in the 605 League, first place, defeated Yucca Valley High 19-13 in overtime in the CIF-Southern Section Division 12 championship game, lost to Wasco High 7-6 in the CIF Division 6AA State championship game. 24-27 overall last five…

[epacer]

Sports Page

Back Story on Tracy McNair Head Football Coach

Tracy holds almost 25 seasons of coaching experience at all the following levels: Youth, High school, and JR College level. Most of his High school coaching has been in the inner city of San Diego at Crawford and Morse High School.  While at Crawford Tracy Helped turn a once poor program into an undefeated team in 2003. Then followed that season up in 2004 with a 9-2 record.  While at Morse Tracy has produced a CIF Championship in 2018.  Tracy is also one of very few coaches in the history of San Diego High School football to reach 100 career wins without the help of buses, charters, and private privileges.

Southwestern College is where Tracy McNair learned his ways around the Gridiron.  While there he coached the defensive backs and helped coordinate the defense.  There were numerous winning seasons while on the Southwestern staff. All the time at Southwestern College Tracy mainly recruited the inner city of San Diego.

Educationally Tracy Holds a BS from Fresno State. Masters from Azusa Pacific. Teaching Credential from National University. *Reposted text by Pe Grooms on Jun 25, 2017.

[atowndailynews]

Atascadero High School Athletes of the Week

Oscar and Andrew   Greyhounds: Oscar and Andrew Sport: Cross Country Coach’s comment: The2023 AHS XC Season came to an end yesterday with the running of the State Championship Race in Fresno, Ca. Both Oscar (16:25), and Andrew (16:28) (88th) ran identical race times to their times at CIF Finals one week previous, to finish 82nd and 88th out of 201 competitors in the D2 State Championship 5,000…

[osarothomprince]

Orange County scores and player stats for Saturday, March 11

Support our high school sports coverage by becoming a digital subscriber. Subscribe now Scores and stats from Orange County games on Saturday, March 11 Click here for details about sending your team’s scores and stats to the Register. SATURDAY’S SCORES GIRLS BASKETBALL CIF STATE CHAMPIONSHIPS Final DIVISION V Bret Harte 62, Marina 39 SOFTBALL DAVE KOPS…Orange County scores and player stats for…

[vaultermagazine]

CIF "Cancels" California Track and Field Kids!

CIF “Cancels” California Track and Field Kids!

“Also, due to the limited number of Sections in Northern California conducting championships, coupled with potential logistical/travel issues, the State CIF will not be hosting State Championships in swim & dive, track & field, and wrestling.” CIF statement 4/28/2021 Why? Why get the kid’s hopes up, the coaches, families, and the track and field community. Months back we stated that state would…

[all-kinds-of-fast]

that’s a wrap on high school cross country.

[lboogie1906]

Reginald Alfred Bush Jr. (born March 2, 1985) is a former football running back who now serves as an on-air college football analyst for Fox Sports. He played college football at USC, where he earned consensus All-American honors twice and won the Heisman Trophy as the most outstanding player in the nation. He is regarded as one of the greatest college football players of all time. He was drafted by the New Orleans Saints second overall in the 2006 NFL Draft. He was named an All-Pro punt returner in 2008 and won Super Bowl XLIV in 2010 over the Indianapolis Colts. He played for the Buffalo Bills, Miami Dolphins, Detroit Lions, and San Francisco 49ers before retiring in 2017. He won the 2005 Doak Walker and Walter Camp awards. However, allegations that he received improper benefits were central to an NCAA investigation of the USC football program that led to severe NCAA sanctions against USC, including a two-year postseason ban and the vacating of the 2004 national championship. He voluntarily forfeited his Heisman Trophy. He was born in Spring Valley in San Diego County. He was a running back at Helix High School in La Mesa. During his prep career with the Helix Highlanders, he won the prestigious Silver Pigskin trophy awarded by KUSI's Prep Pigskin Report. He played in the 2003 Army All-American Bowl. Considered a five-star recruit by Rivals.com, he was listed as the No. 1 running back in the nation in 2003. He was a track star at Helix, placing second (10.72) in the 2002 CIF California State Meet 100 meters final and posting bests of 10.42 seconds in the 100 meters and 21.06 seconds in the 200 meters. He is still 3rd all-time on the 100m dash all-time list for San Diego. He placed second in the boys' 50 meters, clocking at 5.85 at the 2003 Los Angeles Invitational Indoor Meet. He married Lilit Avagyan (2014-). The couple has three children. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/CpU826QL7ef/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Untitled

Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

[loscerritoscommunitynews]

NEWS AND NOTES FROM PRESS ROW - John Glenn’s Udengwu struggles in CIF state championships, does not reach medal round

By Loren Kopff After throwing a 179-9 in the CIF state preliminaries last Friday in Clovis, the sixth best mark out of 25 competitors, John Glenn High senior Mikel Udengwu couldn’t repeat the same success the next day in the finals. Udengwu had one positive throw amongst his first three and was unable to stay in the top nine required to move on to the next three throws. Udengwu faulted on his…

[epacer]

California

California Makes Flag Football a Girls' High School Sport

California approved a plan Friday to make flag football a girls’ high school sport amid soaring popularity of the game and a push to get more female athletes on the field.

The move by the California Interscholastic Federation — the statewide body that governs high school athletics — makes flag football an official sport for girls in the nation’s most populous state for the upcoming 2023-24 year. The plan was approved unanimously by the organization’s federated council in Long Beach, said Rebecca Brutlag, an agency spokesperson.

Paula Hart Rodas, president-elect of the CIF Southern Section’s council, said the goal is to get more girls involved in high school sports and tap into a widespread love of football by many who are loath to play tackle. Southern California schools spanning from Long Beach to Corona are hoping to start teams in the fall and the approval allows districts to add the sport to their budgets, Hart Rodas said.

“You can love the game of football and not love getting tackled but still want to participate,” Hart Rodas said. "Flag right now is aimed directly at getting more girls involved in athletics by adding a different sport that we know girls across the country are interested in, but not willing to play tackle for a variety of reasons.”

The move adds California to a growing list of states that have included girls' flag football in high school athletic programs, such as Alabama and Nevada. New York state's public high school athletic association took a similar step this week and expects to host the first state championship for girls flag football in the spring of 2024.

The vote in California comes amid a surge in interest in flag football among younger players in recreational leagues and burgeoning support from the NFL and teams such as the Los Angeles Rams and Los Angeles Chargers, which have been running a pilot high school league for girls in Southern California.

Scores of schools signed up to participate in the pilot and those selected to do so — and the eager young players who played in it — have widely been seen as pioneers in the sport.

Paul Schmidt said being part of a start-up has been exciting for his 14-year-old daughter, who had never played flag football before she tried out for the team at Redondo Union High School, one of the schools participating in the league. Making the sport official should make it easier to secure field time, he said, and gives a boost to a tight-knit team of girls that has bonded around starting something new.

“She loves it, loves it. It’s exciting to be in a new sport,” he said.

Rising interest in flag football — in which no one gets tackled and a play ends when an opposing player pulls a flag from a belt around the ball-carrier's waist — comes amid concern about the risk of concussions and other injuries from tackle football.

In the decade leading up to 2018-19, the number of girls playing flag football in U.S. high schools doubled to 11,000, according to the National Federation of State High School Associations.

Without the CIF's approval, California high schools could organize flag football clubs. But coaches said allowing official interscholastic competition will likely drive more schools to start teams and develop a pipeline of players.

Troy Vincent Sr., the NFL's executive vice president of football operations, wrote in the Sacramento Bee that times have changed since he played professional football, which back then was “broadly seen as a man’s game." He said high school players might be able to play into college and beyond as universities have also ramped up the sport.

Vincent is also pushing to get flag football added to 2028 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.

“This is no longer just a backyard sport for girls’ pickup games during family holiday gatherings,” he said. *Reposted article from NBC 7 by Amy Taxin on February 3, 2023

[atowndailynews]

Greyhounds celebrated with parade, recognition

Greyhounds celebrated with parade, recognition

Football team recently won California State Championship – Several hundred people turned out to celebrate the Atascadero High School Greyhounds Football Team, which won the California State Championship in a torrential downpour at Atascadero High School. San Luis Obispo County Supervisor Debbie Arnold and Atascadero Mayor Heather Moreno officially praised the Greyhound football team, and CIF…

[osarothomprince]

Orange County scores and player stats for Saturday, March 11

Support our high school sports coverage by becoming a digital subscriber. Subscribe now Scores and stats from Orange County games on Saturday, March 11 Click here for details about sending your team’s scores and stats to the Register. SATURDAY’S SCORES GIRLS BASKETBALL CIF STATE CHAMPIONSHIPS Final DIVISION V Bret Harte 62, Marina 39 SOFTBALL DAVE KOPS…Orange County scores and player stats for…

[lboogie1906]

Kevin C. Young (September 16, 1966) is a former athlete. He was the winner of the 400-meter hurdles at the 1992 Summer Olympics. In the final of this event he set a world record and Olympic record of 46.78 seconds, the first time the 47-second barrier was broken, and a world record that stood for nearly 29 years until it was broken by Karsten Warholm on July 1, 2021.

He became the 400 m hurdles world champion the following year, winning at the 1993 World Championships in Athletics with a time of 47.18 seconds. He had an unusual hurdling technique of switching between 12 and 13 strides between the hurdles, departing from the 13-stride technique popularized by Edwin Moses.

His performances declined after 1993. He was inducted into the National Track & Field Hall of Fame in 2006.

At Jordan High School, the same high school that Florence Griffith-Joyner had attended years earlier, he was first successful as a 110-meter hurdler, finishing in third place at the 1984 CIF California State Meet. As a UCLA” walk-on”, he was in 5th place at the 1985 Pac-10 championships running the 400-meter hurdles in 51.09 seconds. This all changed his sophomore year. Limiting the amount of time and effort in other events (110 hurdles, triple jump, and long jump) he applied more detail to the 400-meter hurdles and 4×400-meter relay.

In 1992, he won his first USA Outdoor Track and Field Championships title and was unbeaten before the Barcelona Olympics. Running in lane 4, he appeared to have the slowest reaction to the gun on the field. Only he has ever perfected the 12-stride pattern to success.

He became the first-ever ESPY award winner in track presented by ESPN.

He is a member of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity initiated into the Gamma Xi Chapter at UCLA. He is an artist with work on display through the Art of the Olympians. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence