Table of Contents
So Far – The 1976 St. John Football Season
- Part 1 – Before the Season: My Dad, the Harbor, and Zet – see here
- Part 2 – The Road to #50 & the 1975 SJHS Team – see here
- Part 3 – The Leadup to THE GAME – this blog post
- Part 4 – THE GAME – St. John vs Harbor – next blog post
- Parts XYZ – don’t know yet!
Part 3 Introduction — The Lead Up to THE GAME
Before I start, I warned everyone that I didn’t plan on writing War and Peace…but, this is close!
In Part 2 is the story of going from an undersized (oversized?), underperforming sophomore to St. John’s starting starting center. By the end of the 1975 season, Coach Paul Kopko had found an offensive formula that gave us something to build on.
Now it was time for the 1976 St. John football season—my senior season.
We had plenty to prove. Could we build on the progress we’d made at the end of 1975? Could we fill the gaps made by graduates? Could we compete with the bigger schools on our schedule? And could we make another run at the Ohio High School Small School State Championship?
We had a tough road ahead, with some tremendous highs, a few painful lows, and a couple of games I’ll never forget.
One of those games was against Harbor-THE GAME. If you’ve read Part 1, you know the Harbor rivalry has a special place in my family’s history. Since publishing that post, I’ve also recruited a friend from Harbor to help tell the story of what happened when our two schools met.
But before we get to THE GAME, there’s a season to play. Let’s start at the beginning.
Preseason: Getting Ready
Before the real games began, there were the daily routines of preseason. And in 1976, expectations were running high.
An August 23 article in the Ashtabula Star-Beacon made it clear that Coach Paul Kopko had plans for us. After a promising finish to the 1975 season, he expected St. John to open up its offense. The newspaper reported that we would have a “more wide-open attack.” We also had our sights set on the Northeastern Conference race, where defending champion Geneva and Madison figured prominently.
So, while I was worrying about surviving two-a-day practices, the newspaper was discussing offensive strategy and conference championships. Apparently, we had a few things to accomplish before the leaves started falling.
We practiced at the fieldhouse and on the practice “field.” Both were at Massucci Field complex in Swede Town. Our fieldhouse was ’70s modern: a big room, large open lockers, a good shower room, hot tubs, a coaches’ office, and training and equipment rooms. It was nice. By today’s standards, it would probably qualify as a hellhole. Back then, though, it was the Taj-Mahal.
Another modern feature was that we actually drank water and Gatorade during practice. The old-school idea that football players should be kept thirsty was finally beginning to fade. On a late-August afternoon, during our second practice of the day, this seemed like a pretty good development.
I put quotation marks around practice “field” because it wasn’t really a field. It was an overflow parking lot for Massucci’s baseball diamond. It had all the usual parking-lot amenities: hard-packed dirt, stones, rocks, and occasionally broken glass. Not much grass, mind you, but enough to make those quotation marks necessary.
Between our morning session and practice number two of the day, I’d walk over to Aunt Teresa’s for lunch, watch TV, and settle into Uncle Nick’s green Barcalounger for a nap. Aunt Teresa usually had a feast ready for me. My favorites were tomatoes and eggs and pasta fazoo. I’d eat until I was happy, then discover during the afternoon practice that perhaps I’d been a little too happy.
We also had two preseason scrimmages. I believe one was against Jefferson and the other against Newton Falls, where Coach Kopko would eventually return after a few years.
During the Newton Falls scrimmage, I suffered a minor left knee injury while playing defense. I don’t remember much about the injury itself, except that I spent a lot of time icing my knee and had it wrapped for a while. The biggest bummer was that I didn’t get to play much defense after that.
The 1976 Season Beginnings
Game 1: Warren JFK — A “Heartening” Loss
Friday night, September 10, 1976. The day after my seventeenth birthday, we played our first game of the season against Warren JFK, a much larger school than ours, at historic Mollenkopf Stadium in Warren, Ohio.
Before the game, the Ashtabula Star-Beacon published its predictions for the opening weekend. Local sportswriters weighed in on the matchups, and the paper also featured the predictions of Major Amos Hoople in his regular column, The Major’s Wagers.
For those of you who remember the Major, he was a big deal around here in the 1970s. And here’s a little family secret: I knew who Major Amos Hoople was…but I’m sworn not to say! I’m not sure whether the statute of limitations on impersonating an Army Major has expired, but is fifty years is long enough?
I remember Mollenkopf as a massive concrete structure. Built in 1934, it was already over forty years old when we played there. Its capacity was over 12,000, and Cleveland Browns great and Pro Football Hall of Famer Paul Warfield had played there. For a kid from St. John, playing in a place like that was a different experience from playing on a typical small-school field.
One thing I do remember was delivering a great hit on a tackle during a punt return, just as a player was going out of bounds. I was lucky I didn’t get called for a late hit. Since I wasn’t getting much playing time on defense, I relished my special-teams opportunities. A late-hit penalty would have been a lousy way to start the season—and might have cost me my beloved Special Teams action!
Notice the size of JFK’s roster in the program. They had nearly twice as many players as we did.
We lost 7–0. The next day’s Star-Beacon headline was “Warren JFK Gets 7–0 Verdict Over St. John,” with the sportswriter adding that we’d learned why “close only counts in horseshoes.” So much for getting any sympathy from the local press!
But there was reason to feel good about the game. We’d been shut out 37–0 by JFK the previous year, and this time we’d gone toe-to-toe with a much larger school. We moved the ball, played tough defense, and had opportunities to score. We just couldn’t get it across the goal line.
A loss is still a loss, but this one felt different. It was a “heartening loss”, and we had something to build on as we headed into Week 2 against Fairport Harbor. They were closer to us in size and, as we’d soon learn, an important competitor in the race for computer points toward state-playoff qualification.
Game 2: Fairport Harbor — A Big Win
Our second game was against Fairport Harbor on September 17, 1976. Fairport was one of the few small schools on our schedule, and it was also in our region. That made this game important for another reason: the computer rankings used to determine playoff qualification.
The system awarded points for wins, with more points for beating a large AAA school than a medium AA or small A school. Teams also earned half the points of the teams they defeated. Beating another small school in our region was particularly important. We earned points from the win while making it harder for Fairport to catch us in the playoff race.
At the time, I don’t think we fully appreciated how important these games would become. We were trying to win football games. The computers were busy deciding our postseason fate.
Fairport had a quarterback who would go on to an interesting football career. I mentioned him in Part 1 in connection with Punt, Pass, and Kick. He later became a kicker at Ohio State and in the NFL, although he also took some snaps at quarterback at Ohio State. It’s funny to look back at a high school opponent and realize where football eventually took him.
The game itself was close for three quarters. We went into the fourth quarter tied 6–6, but then our offense finally broke through, and we pulled away to win 26–6.
The next day’s Star-Beacon headline read, “Heralds Use Two-Platoon System To Wear Out Fairport’s Skippers.” According to the article, Coach Kopko’s approach paid off as we took control in the final quarter. The statistics sheet shows that we finished with 245 total yards, including 193 on the ground.
This was more than just our first win of the season. It was an important regional victory against a school that was also competing for a place in the state playoffs, but we now had the head-to-head win. We had bounced back from the loss to Warren JFK, and the season was beginning to take shape. We still had plenty to prove, but we were moving in the right direction.
The Meat of the Season – City Series & Northeastern Conference Games
Game 3: Ashtabula — The City Series Begins
This was a big game! It marked the beginning of both the City Series and Northeastern Conference seasons. For some of my teammates who grew up on the south side of Ashtabula, this was their version of THE GAME. If they hadn’t gone to St. John, Ashtabula would have been their school.
The game was played on a Saturday, a day usually reserved for what the league believed would be the most important league game of the week. It also marked the first time we had a pep rally before a game.
Coach Kopko was fired up, too. He had special shirts printed for all the players, with “Beat Bula” on the front. Subtlety was not the order of the day.
The Ashtabula Star-Beacon was getting into the spirit, too. Its pregame article was headlined “New Lights for Old Rivalry.” The Ashtabula Booster Club had installed new lights at Guarnieri Field, but nobody needed new lights to see what this game meant to the two communities. The rivalry was already well established.
And then there was Major Amos Hoople, our favorite pigskin prognosticator. In The Major’s Wagers, he picked St. John to beat Ashtabula, 24–6. He got the winner right, but our 25–0 shutout was a little better than he expected!
There was no doubt we were fired up, and I’m sure the feeling was mutual over at Bula. But there was another side to these City Series games. All that testosterone-fueled adrenaline led to fireworks during and after the game. Despite the fact that most of us knew the Bula players personally from Little League or our neighborhoods, there was punching and biting in the pileups. It was probably the worst of it I experienced during my football career. Racial slurs flew in both directions. It was ugly.
On the field, we dominated. We won 25–0, although the game was much closer at halftime, when we led just 6–0. Mark C. had a remarkable night, rushing for 247 yards and two touchdowns. Our offense found its footing, and the defense kept Ashtabula off the scoreboard.
And the fireworks didn’t end with the final whistle. Our coaches rushed us back onto the bus. There were very few handshakes, and we were told to keep our helmets on during the ride back to the fieldhouse. As we left the stadium parking lot, rocks pelted our bus!
Funny thing is, I distinctly remember seeing a few Bula players—and players from other teams—at McDonald’s, the city’s postgame gathering spot. There, handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged. Apparently, the rivalry had its limits—or at least, it did once we got to McDonald’s!
Game 4: Conneaut — A Victory leading to THE GAME
By the time we played Conneaut on Friday, October 1, 1976, autumn had arrived. As I remember it, the night had a true autumn feel. It wasn’t bitterly cold, but it was cool enough that you could see your breath when you were breathing hard.
Conneaut had a beautiful old stadium, and I enjoyed playing there. When I visited again in 2024, I found a newer athletic facility in its place. I tried to track down the history of the old stadium, including the possibility that it dated to the Depression era and had been built as a Works Progress Administration (WPA) project, but I haven’t been able to confirm that yet.
That’s a shame, because I have a real appreciation for Depression-era architecture. If the old stadium was indeed a WPA project, losing it was a little piece of local history disappearing.
Conneaut was no pushover. In its pregame coverage, the Star-Beacon described the Spartans as a team capable of giving opponents trouble, despite having only eleven players on the roster. We were favored, but football has a way of making predictions look foolish. Just ask Major Amos B. Hoople, the newspaper’s colorful pigskin prognosticator!
Conneaut had an excellent player wearing #34 who later became a multiyear starter at William & Mary. Their left guard also eventually became a teammate of mine at Allegheny.
Other than the win, this game is most memorable because I finally got a chance to play defense. I recorded a tackle and got a good shot on #34 in the second half. Conneaut had already lost its starting QB. I sometimes wonder whether that late-ish hit on #34 had anything to do with why I didn’t get many more opportunities on defense. Maybe Coach Kopko figured I was better off staying on offense, where the penalties for excessive enthusiasm were less likely to cost us fifteen yards. FAT CHANCE!
As it turned out, the game was more competitive than the final score might suggest. We won 24–12, but Conneaut stayed in the game despite losing their starting QB during the second quarter which became the next day’s headline.
And Then There Was Harbor
Four games into the season, we had won three times, a three-game winning streak, and lost once. We’d shown that we could compete with bigger schools, beaten a regional rival, survived the City Series battle with Ashtabula, and won at Conneaut. We were beginning to see what kind of team we might be.
But the first four games were only the beginning. The next game was against Harbor.
For most people, it was another football game on the schedule. For those of us who grew up in the Harbor, it was something else entirely. As I explained in Part 1, the Harbor rivalry ran deeper than football. It reached into our families, our neighborhoods, and the community’s history.
And fifty years later, it still matters enough that I’m writing about it.
Next up: THE GAME.
