Rite of passage

By Michael Ashcraft --

Twins Sean and Owen Toomey weren't even going to play football for the Lighthouse Christian Academy of Santa Monica, but there they were at Thursday's game -- the last of the season -- making catches and blocking passes.

"We were about to not even join the team, but I'm really glad we did," said Owen. "It was amazing because of the bonds you build. We suffered together. It was fun."

In its reconstruction season, LCA lost all seven of its games. But the boys got something more valuable than a CIF plaque, and the Toomey boys expressed it with these words: "suffer together" and "bonds."

What the Toomey brothers discovered was that football is a rite of passage into manhood. Ancient cultures weren't amiss with their rites of passage: either hunting an animal successfully alone or fighting in wars.

Men want to test themselves, physically and otherwise. Football provides them with challenges requiring growth, hardship requiring overcoming. Without it, boys (can) become video gamers and incels. America's alternative rite of passage -- getting a college degree -- is a sorry substitute.

I was not a fan of football, and when my son asked to play, I did what my dad did: forbade him. But Rob prevailed upon me, and as I watched him battle through four seasons of being beaten down on the gridiron, I learned something about football and what it has over my favorite sport, soccer.

Football-loving men tend to express it with grunts, chest thumps and ridicule of other sports. As I watched Rob, and then later my second son Hosea, play, I searched for the words to explain what I was witnessing and how my thinking was evolving.

I realized my sons got something I didn't. The danger, teamwork and competition brought them out of irresponsibility and immaturity into self-assurance and success. They grew up, moved out of the basement, gave up video games, got jobs, got married and started businesses.

The Toomey brothers weren't the only ones. There was also Casey Redmond, who caught a touchdown pass. Like the Toomeys, he almost didn't join the team. (Lighthouse has a student population of <50 and urges every boy to play, otherwise they can't field a team, even in the 8-man football space).

Casey recounted his TD catch: "It was just a good route. We switched it me and the other receiver to trade places and that left me open to catch the ball for the touchdown. First touchdown! I'm glad I finally got it in!"

Casey was one of three touchdowns Thursday against Rolling Hills Preparatory School, which -- excuse the pun -- otherwise rolled over Lighthouse 18-72.

After four years of not fielding a team (Covid played a part), Lighthouse resurrected its football program this semester. Understandably, the lack of experience muddled them. Success, this season, was not measured in wins but in touchdowns.

Big Ben -- senior Ben Lahood -- scored another of Thursday's TDs. "I ran the B lane and showed them who was boss," he says. Ben was LCA's only running option. All the other players are short with slight builds, which is why the Saints formed a passing team this season.

Ben has grown up, and it shows in the classroom as well. He's getting better grades and growing out of the mischievousness. He's preparing to embark on life. Football played a part. He's no longer the youngest of five brothers looking to clown around. He's, as I said, "Big Ben."

Another touchdown was made by Zion Jenkins who, catching a pass, burned his coverage. He's a sophomore and one of the only boys who actually wanted to play football.

"Football helps you become a man by all the work you put in. You can't give up. You can't quit no matter how hard it is," Zion says. "If you give up, you let your team down."

Junior Zeke Young had his rite of passage too. As the smallest boy at Lighthouse, coaches couldn't put him on the line, so they made him quarterback. He's had to throw with accuracy and not cave under pressure.

Kirollos Abdalla, sophomore, made a sack, his third for the season. "I sprinted around the guy who was going up against me," Kiro says. "When I first came to Lighthouse in the sixth grade, they told me about football and I joined the flag football team.

"Football has taught me some lessons, like to never let anything get to your mind until you get into the game. The guy in front of me was three times bigger, so I was slightly scared. But I knew I couldn't be scared. In past games, I did bad because I was scared. In this game, I didn't let it get to me.

"I think it'll help me in life to not be afraid."

Anxiety breeds inaction, fear of failures leads to not even attempting. So overcoming fears is a good thing.

Nile Hosni, sophomore, "grew up" at left guard. "It teaches you that you can't give up. The guys were bigger and had more experience. I kept trying. I still lost. Even if you lose, if you did your best, you still win," Nile says. "I didn't give up."

Nile started fouling a kid on the field Thursday, beating him up for what he thought was some dirty play. "It was fun," says Nile.

He used to be bullied on the field. On Thursday, he decided to be the bully.

The word "masculinity" is often associated with "toxic." On Google, I searched "toxic" and the fourth entry of auto-suggest was "toxic masculinity." It's what used to be called machismo, the despicable brusque drunk cavemanish wife-cheater/beater.

But you don't have to espouse Andrew Tate's version to embrace and pursue manliness. As a matter of fact, one school of thought affirms that weak men are toxic because their insecurities breed lashing out and tyrannical behavior. True manliness is responsible, loving, fatherly, respectful, gentlemanly and self-confident.

When my father denied me the chance to play football as a child, he instilled fear into me. "I don't want you to break a bone," he said gruffly, and that was the end of the matter. I learned to play it safe in life, to worry more about what could go wrong more than what could go right. As the years rolled on, I wondered why I turned down promotions and passed over opportunities.

It hasn't been universally my story. There were some challenges I undertook and triumphed (or failed) at. But something seemed profoundly missing in my heart. After years of mulling my own psychology, and after watching Lighthouse boys throw their bodies into the fray, I concluded that football is (though not the only way) a great rite for young boys.

It was a good thing Lighthouse resurrected its football program. For the boys emerging men.

Michael Ashcraft teaches journalism at the Lighthouse Christian Academy of Santa Monica. The views expressed in this article are his alone and do not reflect Santa Monica Patch or even Lighthouse Christian Academy.