Rising from the Ashes

Story by Bill Plaschke, Photo by Luis Sinco, LA Times

Harrison Hill kicked through the smoke of uncertainty, the soot of fear, finding the back of the net with a solid right foot on a spotless white ball.

He kicked the first goal, the only goal his Westmont College team would need, then he turned and ran.

He ran past the teammate who, at this moment, owned only the uniform on his back.

He ran past a teammate who had prepared for the game by searching Craigslist for a place to sleep.

He ran off the field, under the covered bench area, and into the arms of one who lost more than any of them.

In last week's Montecito fire, the home of Westmont Coach Dave Wolf burned to the ground.

Hill hugged his teary-eyed teacher and lifted him to the sky.

"This is the first brick in your new house," he whispered.

This is how the healing always begins, doesn't it? A community torn by tragedy searches for a reason to find each other. A group of athletes reaches beyond itself to become that reason.

The healing, it seems, always starts with a game.

On Monday afternoon, on a pristine field abutted again against clear and majestic hills, there was a game like few others. Westmont College played Azusa Pacific University for the Golden State Athletic Conference championship and a spot in the NAIA national tournament.

They played even though Westmont, a private Montecito college with an enrollment of 1,347, had been shut down since last week because of the wildfire.

They played even though 15% of the campus had been destroyed, including faculty housing for about two dozen teachers and a handful of dorms for 50 students.

They played even though they were supposed to play on Saturday, with no rest and no preparation, but the game was delayed by request of Azusa Pacific.

That's right. Imagine that. Azusa Pacific could have won by forfeit, yet the defending national champions insisted on postponing the game until they could bring the bedraggled Westmont soccer players to their campus, house them, feed them, and get them ready to play.

"At the end of the day, that title can burn up and those rings can melt away," said Phil Wolf, Azusa Pacific's coach and brother of the Westmont coach. "Sports are about relationships, family, brotherhood."

So, heavy underdogs with heavy minds, the Westmont players showed up on the Azusa campus last weekend with little chance of even paying attention until the game.

"I couldn't even believe we were here," said Zach George, a freshman whose dorm room burned down, leaving him with nothing, not even his wallet or keys. "We had lost so much."

But by the time they stepped on the Azusa Pacific field Monday, they had found something.

It was on the other sideline. It was standing five deep, the length of the field, stretching beyond the fences behind the goals, shrieking and cheering and chanting.

It was their people. It was their school. Westmont was officially closed, but its heart had opened to pour out several hundred students and faculty who had driven two hours -- some even on a chartered bus -- to cheer for the first sign of post-fire life.

The cheers of "West-mont" filled the humid air, far stronger than the remaining faint whiff of smoke. It sometimes even drowned out the "A-P-U" cheers from locals who made this gathering of about 500 people the biggest crowd in Azusa Pacific soccer history.

"I know this has been said before, but this time it's true," said Westmont freshman Austin Crowder, who was painted in the school colors of red and white. "We're here to show how we will rise from the ashes."

The Westmont players saw this, felt it, huddled around their coach before the game and choked back tears and prayed about it.

By the time the game started, the burning had returned, only this time from within.

"There was no way we were losing this game," said senior midfielder Jonathon Schoff. "I mean, no chance, not an option, no way."

The fans never quieted. The players never slowed. And no, there was no chance Westmont was losing this game.

The Warriors beat the bigger, stronger, faster Cougars, 2-0, in a match that didn't feel that close. They seemingly won every contested ball. They appeared to win every race to every corner.

They scored twice in the second half, both goals followed by runs directly into the coaches' arms. Just as the emotion fueled Westmont, it drained Azusa Pacific, the classy hosts overcome by their own generosity.

"There was so much going for them, the fans, the momentum, the situation, it was too much for us to overcome," said junior midfield Eric Winblad. "We almost felt like the bad guys out there."

That's sad, because rarely in Southern California sports has there been a better show of sportsmanship than this, Azusa Pacific sacrificing its chance at a title defense to give Westmont a fair shot at taking it.

As impressive as the resilience of the conquerors was the kindness of the conquered.

Goodness, the school didn't even charge admission to the game and offered the Westmont fans a free lunch of pizza and salad.

"I've lost a lot, but right now, I can't think of one thing I need," said Westmont's Dave Wolf. "The people of Azusa Pacific have given us everything."

Monday's game ended, and the Westmont fans streamed onto the field, surrounding their heroes, singing, chanting, then coming together for a most amazing final embrace.

They tunneled. That's right, just like parents in a youth soccer game, they lined up across from each other, stretched out their arms, clasped hands, and formed a tunnel through which the players ran. Darn thing stretched about 50 yards, from Azusa toward Montecito, from despair to hope.

Wolf will soon begin a daunting search for a home for himself, his wife and their five children. But for a few minutes Monday, anything was possible, the sixth-place Warriors advancing to the national tournament, scheduled to host a first-round match next weekend even though they don't know if they still have a field.

"I know it's not a very sophisticated answer, but when you ask how I'm feeling about today, I can say only one thing to everyone," said Dave Wolf, staring red-eyed into a collection of kids dancing, laughing, rising from those ashes. "Thank you."

My Alma Mater Burned

Westmont College is my home away from home. It’s where I met some of my most treasured friends. It’s where I reconciled my faith with science. It’s where I experienced and tried to make sense of 9/11. It’s where I grew up. Now, it’s where numerous students and faculty are displaced because their homes have burned.

The Tea Fire started near a place Westmont calls The Arches, last Thursday. It tore through the Montecito, and then parts of Santa Barbara, destroying over 1,900 acres of beautiful land, and 210 homes. In just the Westmont community alone, fifteen homes in Las Barrancas (small housing development for faculty adjacent to the campus) were lost, as well as four buildings that were a part of the Clark Dorm, Bauder Hall, the physics building, the old math building and two Quonset Huts. The latter three were scheduled for demolition to make room for new facilities. Thankfully, no one from Westmont was physically injured.

To outsiders, Westmont is known for its beauty: the Birds of Paradise that looked out below Kerrwood Hall, the Wisteria that drooped from the lattice, the ponds that trickled with water and coy, and the well-groomed campus that elicited joy in the face of every visitor. All of that looks much different now.

But to insiders, Westmont is hailed for its community, one that fosters growth and relationships and learning. That doesn’t look any different now, as the news stations showed images of students huddled together, praying, singing, laughing, crying.

Days later, I ask for your thoughts and prayers for those it has affected, in the Westmont Community that I am so proud to still be a part of.

Photos courtesy of Brad Elliot, Westmont College

Our Favorite Veteran

Growing up in a semi-sheltered suburban household, I didn't give much thought to Veteran's Day. I never questioned it either, as it was a day off school or work.

When I was 12, I visited the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC. I ran my hands over the wall of engraved names, and for the first time in my life, had a tangible connection with a soldier's sacrifice. I didn't fully get it at the time, but as I think back about that day, the heaviness overwhelms me. I can remember looking at the names, and then my own reflection staring back at me. It means something today.

In our house, Veteran's Day is about celebration and remembrance. It's about remembering those who have selflessly given their lives to protect our freedoms, and it's about celebrating our favorite veteran, the one who lives in our home. Ryan (hubby and Daddy, to us) served over eight years in the US Navy, where he was deployed to Puerto Rico, East Timor, Spain, and Kuwait. When he was home, he spent almost 1/3 of his time at Fort Hunter Liggett (northern California). We missed him a lot, but he was proud to do his duty. Although it was hard on our family, a change in his plans didn't come until October 2006 when Emily was born. He once saw a buddy return home to a son who ran the other way because he didn't recognize his own dad. Ryan decided that the active duty life was not the best for us. He was honorably discharged in September 2007 and we moved home to be near our families. By January 2008 he was enlisted as a reservist with the California Air National Guard. He is still serving today.

Today, say thank you to a veteran. And pray for them, to the God who is the only way to true freedom. FDR thought it best to pray before D-Day, and he led the nation this prayer:

Almighty God,
Our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity. Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.
They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. Men's souls will be shaken with the violence of war. For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and goodwill among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home. Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.
And for us at home - fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas, whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them - help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice. Many people have urged that I call the nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. And, O Lord, give us faith. Give us faith in Thee; faith in our sons; faith in each other; faith in our united crusade. Let not the keenness of our spirit ever be dulled. With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogances. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace - a peace invulnerable to the schemes of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil. Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen.

Someday, Emily will hear the stories. She will know where her Daddy's boots walked, and she will know the giver of real freedom. Until then, we'll pray. Continually. Not for conquest, but for liberation. And we'll say thanks, for a life dedicated to service above self, something God calls for, and something we are so proud to have in our home.

The Wonder of It All

Yesterday as I was driving, I saw the most beautiful sky. It was bright blue and, with the timing of the sunset, there were giant red stripes screaming across it. I can tell you why the light makes those gorgeous mix of colors, but I'll spare you. Someone once said that explaining those awe-inspiring moments takes the wonder away. I spent all night thinking about that. Did I think sunsets were less spectacular after I learned about wavelengths? Did I admire the blue of the ocean less once I was taught light refraction? Did I have less reverence for the hand of God in his creation of the human body with thorough explanation of the ATP cycle?

If you've spent any time in Dr. Tro's chemistry class, you would hate to go toe-to-toe with him over any of these questions. He will tell you that he became a chemist in order to better understand God and his magnificent wonders. Studying science at Westmont was one of the best things I did for my brain and my soul. It made me find harmony in two worlds that often battle, and for that I am thankful.

I only have more reverence for a God who can put colors like this together, make the vast ocean appear blue, AND invent the ATP Cycle.