Author: fartheroffthewall

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal The Narrative of Our Region’s Athletic Heritage.  Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness and notoriety factor in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 43:

= Troy Polamalu, USC football
= Raul Mondesi, Los Angeles Dodgers
= Mychal Thompson, Los Angeles Lakers

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 43:

= Megan Grant, UCLA softball
= Greg Lee, UCLA basketball
= Rick Sutcliffe, Los Angeles Dodgers
= Dave Ball, UCLA football
= George Brunet, California Angels

The most interesting story for No. 43:
Troy Polamalu, USC football safety (1999 to 2002)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Garden Grove, Santa Ana, L.A. Coliseum

The best chance Troy Polamalu had for survival when he was a kid was to move out of Southern California. His mother agreed.

So when he was 9 years old, with an incredible amount of self awareness, Troy went to live in Oregon. His Uncle Salu Polamalu would be a major influence on him.

Eventually, the next best chance Troy Polamalu had for self fulfillment as an talented, passion-filled athlete when he was a teenager was was to come back to Southern California. His family agreed.

So when he graduated from high school in Oregon, his Uncle Keneti Polamalu, better known during his USC football days as a running back named Kennedy Pola was a major influence on his finding a spot on the Trojans’ football roster.

It didn’t take all that long before Polamalu stood head and shoulders above his Trojan teammates. Aside from his signature head of hair.

Dynamic. Acrobatic. But with his soulful calmness, integrity and dedication to family and spirituality. He also became another link in a line of influential and admired Polynesian/American Samoan players in the region’s storied history history.

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal Our Region’s Athletic Heritage. Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness and notoriety factor in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 40:

= Elroy Hirsch: Los Angeles Rams
= Frank Tanana: California Angels
= Troy Percival: California/Anaheim Angels
= Bartolo Colon: Anaheim/Los Angeles Angels

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 40:

= Karl Morgan: UCLA football
= Manu Tuiasosopo: UCLA football
= John Vallely: UCLA basketball

The most interesting story for No. 40:
Billy Bean, Los Angeles Dodgers outfielder (1989), Loyola Marymount outfielder (1983 to 1986) via Santa Ana High
Southern California map pinpoints:
Santa Ana, Westchester, Dodger Stadium

Reference books on the subject:
= “Going The Other Way: Lessons From A Life In and Out of Major-League Baseball,” by Billy Bean, 2003.

When the Los Angeles Dodgers fumbled their way through a regrettably controversial Pride Night event at Dodger Stadium in June of 2023, Billy Bean wasn’t going to shy away from any of it.

Bean pulled on his Dodgers’ No. 40 jersey — the number he wore during his one and only season with the team in 1989 as a reserve outfielder — because however convoluted the meaning of this night had become, misunderstood by those who had to have their own opinions, intentions be damned from the previous dozen times this has been celebrated, Bean was going to give it all his positive energy no matter if misguided protestors marched outside the park.

That was likely the last time many in the organization saw him.

Just two months later, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. He revealed the diagnosis during the MLB’s Winter Meetings in December and vowed to help with a “Stand Up To Cancer” fundraiser.

He had been awaiting a bone marrow transplant when, after a year-long battle, Bean died at his New York home on August 6, 2024. He was 60.

The photo of Bean wearing No. 40 was atop his New York Times/Athletic obituary, which explained how he “played a groundbreaking role in pushing MLB to reshape its relationship with the LGBTQ community.” He had been actively serving as the MLB’s Senior Vice President for Diversity, Equity & Inclusion and Special Assistant to the Commissioner as a way to amp up “visibility of LGBTQ issues in the sport and deliver education initiatives to players and front offices throughout the game.”

Bean never asked for this job. He just sort of evolved into it.

As the sport did around him.

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal The Narrative of Our Region’s Athletic Heritage.  Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness and notoriety factor in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 13:

= Wilt Chamberlain: Los Angeles Lakers
= Paul George: Los Angeles Clippers
= Cobi Jones: Los Angeles Galaxy

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 13:

= Kenny Washington: UCLA football, Los Angeles Rams
= Keenan Allen: Los Angeles Chargers
= Max Muncy: Los Angeles Dodgers
= Tank Younger: Los Angeles Rams
= Cotton Warburton: USC football
= Caleb Williams: USC football
= Todd Marinovich: USC football

The most interesting story for No. 13:
Kenny Washington: UCLA football halfback (1937 to 1939); Hollywood Bears halfback (1940 to 1942); Los Angeles Rams running back (1946 to 1948), Los Angeles Angels infielder (1950).
Southern California map pinpoints:
East Los Angeles; Hollywood; Westwood (UCLA); Los Angeles (Gilmore Stadium, Coliseum, Wrigley Field)

On Sept. 29, 1946, Kenny Stanley Washington strapped on a modest, leather football helmet without a facemask — the one with the white horns of the Los Angeles Rams hand-painted on the side.

He was called into the second half of the team’s season opener at the Los Angeles Coliseum against Philadelphia to sub in injured star quarterback Bob Waterfield and ineffective backup Jim Hardy.

It had been six months since Washington signed a contract with this newly-transplanted NFL franchise, so the team’s season opener that was already something of an event just got more historic.

“Kingfish” Washington, also known as the “Sepia Cyclone,” had already been on this turf where he was the first All-American in UCLA football history, eventually the school’s first College Football Hall of Fame inductee.

The now 28-year-old out of nearby Lincoln High in East L.A., not the athlete he used to be, was now the first Black player to reintegrate the NFL, and the first professional Black athlete on the progressive West Coast.

Los Angeles Times’ sports editor Paul Zimmerman noted that, as 30,553 perspiring fans saw the world champion Rams make their first title defense in what would be a 25-14 loss, Washington’s contribution to the final score was worth a mentioned in the fifth paragraph, under the subhead “Gift Pair”:

Likewise, a story in the Los Angeles Valley Times barely noted Washington’s existence, waiting again until the fifth paragraph to mention the “Rams’ Negro quarterback”:

Washington completed just one pass in seven attempts, netting 19 yards. He had no rushing totals.

None of that was about to blot out more than a decade of an exclusionary, unwritten policy surrounding an NFL franchise signing anyone of a particular race. This was still 6 1/2 months before Washington’s former UCLA football teammate, Jack Robinson, made much bigger headlines by breaking Major League Baseball’s color barrier with the Brooklyn Dodgers on the other side of the country.

These days, they erect statues, rebrand stadiums and build museums to remember Robinson.

Over in Lincoln Heights, at the intersection of North Broadway and Lincoln Park Avenue, not far from the Lincoln High football field, there is a square named after Washington. It wasn’t put up until 2014.

Maybe comparing Robinson to Washington isn’t fair, considering the state of each league and the sports’ popularity. But the truth is that Washington, had he not died far too young at age 52 in the summer of 1971 from a rare blood disorder, might have had more to say about it.

Tragically, his friend Robinson died about a year later at age 53.

All that’s left now are changing narratives.

And yet it was Robinson who was once quoted: “Kenny Washington was the greatest football player I have ever seen. He had everything needed for greatness – size, speed and tremendous strength. … It would be a shame if he were to be forgotten.”