fartheroffthewall

No. 79: Forest Whitaker

January 21, 2026November 6, 2026 fartheroffthewall

This post is part of a media project called 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 consider the list of athletes attached to it. Who wore it best? Or, what’s the most compelling story linked to it? Any person, place or thing is in play with Southern California connections. Star power, transformational achievement, longevity, notoriety and quirkiness all factor in. Whatever leads to a lively discussion and interpretation.

The most obvious choices for No. 79:

Jonathan Ogden, UCLA football
Bob Golic, Los Angeles Raiders
Rob Havenstein, Los Angeles Rams
Jeff Bregel, USC football

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 79:

Gary Jeter, USC football
Sam Baker, USC football
Coy Bacon, Los Angeles Rams

The most interesting story for No. 79:
Forest Whitaker, Palisades High football defensive tackle (1976 to 1978)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Pacific Palisades, Carson, Hollywood

Five minutes of mayhem rock the 1982 teen flick “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” where Forest Whitaker shows not just full range of acting skills, but also his athletic prowess.

As Ridgemont High’s star linebacker Charles Jefferson, wearing No. 33 on his jersey and lettermen’s jacket, Whitaker goes from mild-mannered to maniacal mayhem during a fast-and-furious turn of events.

It wasn’t a real stretch for Whitaker to take on that role. Just a few years earlier, he was an All-L.A. City defensive tackle at Palisades High, wearing No. 79. He would attract Cal Poly Pomona to give him a football scholarship.

Maybe some special effects in the movie’s football game scenes allowing Jefferson to launch himself in slow motion over the Lincoln High offensive line and tackle the entire backfield. One by one, Jefferson knocked out the opposing team to the delight of the Ridgemont student section, many wearing buttons that read “Assassinate Lincoln.”

Whitaker had more cinematic knockouts to come.

Forest Steven Whitaker, born on July 15, 1961 in Longview, Texas, moved with his family to Carson at age 4. His mom, Laura, was a special ed teacher and his father, Forest, sold insurance.

Rather than have him attend a school in L.A.’s inner city, Whitaker’s parents figured out a way to have him go to Palisades High in Malibu. That’s an hour-long, one-way ride in traffic every day, but Whitaker said his parents’ decision may have saved his life.

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No. 95: Jamir Miller

January 15, 2026September 28, 2026 fartheroffthewall

The most obvious choices for No. 95:

Jamir Miller, UCLA football

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 95:
Roger McQueen, Anaheim Ducks

The most interesting story for No. 95:
Jamir Miller, UCLA football outside linebacker (1991 to 1993)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Westwood, Pasadena

Jamir Miller’s jam at UCLA, aside from chasing down quarterbacks, seemed to be a persistent pursuit of parties. That didn’t stop until he was well into a career in pro football.

An All-American linebacker who, in just three seasons with the Bruins would lead the team in sacks each year, rack up a then-school record 23 ½ total, added 35 tackles for a loss, and was a Butkus Award finalist by the time he was done with college football, Miller said he once assessed that by his sophomore year in Westwood, “I embarked on the wild phase of my life that lasted through my second year in the NFL,” according to the Cleveland Plain Dealer in August of 2000.

UCLA’s Jamir Miller (95, center) teams up with Shane Jasper (90, right) to wrap up Wisconsin running back Terrell Fletcher (41) in the Rose Bowl on Jan. 1, 1994. (Al Bello/Allsport/Getty Images)

That didn’t include a senior year of college in that time frame.

The 6-foot-5, 252-pounder was arrested twice at UCLA — once for possessing a loaded firearm and once for accepting stolen stereo and computer equipment. He pleaded no contest to both charges, was placed on three years probation and required to perform 100 hours of community service.

Miller also was suspended for the 1993 season opener by head coach Terry Donahue, a person who Miller credits for being most responsible for recruiting him to come to UCLA and tell his mother that her son would be taken care of. UCLA not only lost that first game of the season, 27-25, to Cal, but also the second game, 14-13, at the Rose Bowl against Nebraska, to started 0-2. That would be the last season for Miller at the school.

Miller’s missteps followed a bit of a pattern he developed as a kid growing up with a single mom in the Oakland area, trying to figure out his identity.

UCLA coach Terry Donahue jokes with linebacker Jamir Miller (95) before a game at Stanford on Sept. 25, 1993. (Mickey Pfleger/Sports Illustrated via Getty Images)

Jamir Malik Miller — his first and middle names mean royal warrior in Swahili — said he didn’t feel much like a warrior growing up.

“When I was younger I didn’t really like my name because it was different and a lot of people couldn’t pronounce it,” Miller told the Los Angeles Times in 1992. “They mess it up and say ‘Jamal’ and I’d go, ‘No, it’s Jamir .’

“I was in the fourth or fifth grade and I’d come home and say, ‘Mom I hate my name because no one can pronounce it.’ She told me not to worry, that I’d understand it when I grew older.

“I wanted to change my name to something like John. I wish my mother had named me something normal. But I decided to stick with it because that’s my identity. And now I’m glad she didn’t name me something normal.”

John Miller was the name of Jamir’s father. A hardened intravenous drug addict, John’s actions forced Jamir’s mother, Rhonda Hardy, to take him as a 3-month old out of their home in Philadelphia and move in with her mother and sisters in the Bay Area.

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No. 94: Don Yi

January 7, 2026July 24, 2026 fartheroffthewall

The most obvious choices for No. 94:

Kenechi Udeze, USC football
Paul Bergmann, UCLA football
Mateen Bhaghani, UCLA football

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 94:

Terry Crews, Los Angeles Rams

The most interesting story for No. 94:
Don Yi, Korean language interpreter for Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Chan Ho Park (1994)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Lakewood, Glendale, Los Angeles (Dodger Stadium)

The 1994 Major League Baseball season started with Don Yi wearing the No. 94 jersey for the Los Angeles Dodgers.

It wasn’t necessarily the Year of Yi in Dodgertown that particular season, but numerically, it made sense.

While Yi was neither bat boy, ball dude nor clubhouse attendant, the 31-year-old UCLA graduate and computer programmer spoke South Korean. The Dodgers in general, and Chan Ho Park, more specifically, could use Yi’s skill set.

As an important part of a contract stipulation when the Dodgers signed a $1.2 million landmark deal with the 20-year-old pitcher, announced at a press conference at a hotel in Koreatown, the team would provide an interpreter.

Where Yi came into the picture, it’s somewhat a mystery.

Park, as the first MLB player brought in from South Korean player, needed to acclimate and assimilate. Yi was there to accomodate. This new-fangled job would evolve, or go sideways, on a daily basis.

It started with this: What is Park’s name?

The first time Yi was in full uniform as the team arrived its Vero Beach, Fla., training camp in March of ’94, reporters and teammates wanted to know what to call him.

“Some people are calling him Mr. Ho,” said Yi.

Dodgers broadcaster Ross Porter called him “Park Chan-ho,” as per Korean custom to use the family’s given surname first. Park asked if Yi could help him get the media covering him to “Americanize” his name.

Once that box was checked, what else might get found in translation?

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No. 92: Rich Dimler

December 31, 2025October 13, 2026 fartheroffthewall

The most obvious choices for No. 92:

Rich Dimler, USC football, Los Angeles Express

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 92:

Harrison Mevis, Los Angeles Rams
Rick Tocchet, Los Angeles Kings
Don Gibson, USC football

The most interesting story for No. 92:
Rich Dimler, USC football nose guard (1975 to 1978), Los Angeles Express defensive tackle (1983 to 1984)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Los Angeles, Glendale, Inglewood, Hawthorne, Torrance, Rancho Palos Verdes

Raise a glass to Rick Dimler. With caution.

The fact he made it through 44 years of roughhousing, and once heralded by USC defensive line coach Marv Goux as “the toughest player I’ve seen in 22 years of coaching” while playing on four straight Trojan bowl victories, is worthy of a toast.

But then again, there was the time when his home town in New Jersey tried to throw a parade in his honor, and it didn’t end well.

Homecomings can be problematic if the honoree celebrates too early and too often.

In March of 1979, Dimler was living off the fame of finishing his four years of football at USC, capped off by a 12-1 season, co-captain of the defensive squad that was highly effective in a Rose Bowl win over Michigan, and giving the Trojans a national championship in the eyes of many voters of such polls.

At this point, Dimler was back visiting friends and family in Bayonne, New Jersey. The cityfolk were finalizing plans for what would be Rich Dimler Day — a parade in his honor, a key to the city, the red-carpet treatment. Beers hoisted and thrown back as he could now look forward to what the NFL might bring.

The party was set for April, but, again, Dimler put himself in a situation that had penalty flags flying all over the place.

On March 12, Bayonne police say they saw Dimler in a car racing another car right down Broadway through the city, and started chasing him at 2 a.m. Dimler, according to the authorities, ran three red lights trying to escape. The other car got away. Dimler was hauled in.

At that point, the 6-foot-6, 260-pound Dimler had a dim view on how this might be a teachable moment.

“I’ll have your jobs; I’ll have both your jobs!” Dimler was said to have screamed at the officers, pushing one of them away. He was eventually accused of striking a patrolman in the chest at police headquarters and deemed “unruly” while in the jail cell.

“He flunked his breathalyzer test in flying colors,” said Lt. Vincent Bonner said in newspaper accounts. The .22 result was well above the legal limit of .15.

As soon as Dimler was out on bail facing charges of assault and battery and creating a disturbance, reporters covering the incident discovered he had been arrested just a month earlier in Los Angeles on driving under the influence, but no charges were filed.

Those digging further into his legal history found a disturbing incident in 1973, the year before he left New Jersey to attend USC, when Dimler, then 17, was acquitted of a death by auto charge in juvenile court. He had been charged of hitting and killing a 10-year-old girl as she crossed the street, and he left the scene. All that happened at the time was getting put on probation.

Bayonne City Councilman Donald Ahern — who happened to be Dimler’s high school coach in the mid-’70s — was asked about how all this might tarnish te upcoming day in his honor.

“He’s a good kid with a good heart; I’d be the last guy to leave the ship for that kid,” said Ahern.

If Dimler needed another character witness, in November of ’78, USC coach John Robinson was telling the Los Angeles Times’ John Hall about how the season had been progressing with Dimler in command of the defense.

“If they ever draw up a blueprint for the ideal leader,” Robinson said, “that’s Dimler.”

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No. 8: Ralphie Valladares

December 10, 2025November 6, 2026 fartheroffthewall

The most obvious choices for No. 8:

Kobe Bryant: Los Angeles Lakers
Troy Aikman: UCLA football
Steve Young: Los Angeles Express
Drew Doughty: Los Angeles Kings
Teemu Selanne: Mighty Ducks of Anaheim
Reggie Smith: Los Angeles Dodgers

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 8:

John Roseboro: Los Angeles Dodgers
Tommy Maddox: Los Angeles Xtreme via UCLA football
Dwayne Jarrett: USC football
Ralphie Valladares: Los Angeles Thunderbirds
Darryl Strawberry: Crenshaw High baseball

The most interesting story for No. 8:
Ralphie Valladares, Los Angeles Braves (1953 to 1959); Los Angeles Thunderbirds (1961 to 1993)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Inglewood, Pico Rivera, Los Angeles (Olympic Auditorium)

Reference books on the subject:
“Rolling Thunder: The Golden Age of Roller Derby & The Rise And Fall of the L.A. T-Birds,” by Scott Stephens, 2019
“Roller Derby Requiem,” by Ed Koch, 2014

In the real-deal world of Roller Derby, Ralphie Valladares delivered validation, valor and viscosity. To any fan pulling for the underdog, he delivered a trace of Prince Valiant.

No. 8 wasn’t just gritty great, he could flat-out skate. A lightning-fast playmaker for the red, white and blue Los Angeles Thunderbirds. A group of diverse and equally dynamic team of men and women. He, and they, were an abject reflection our city’s inclusive melting pot and its blue-collar mentality. Valladares knew how to flip the script — whatever the script called for on that night at the Olympic Auditorium — and his followers were with him every turn of the wheel.

It’s valid to say Valladares was the first high-profile, relatable Latino sports star in Los Angeles, coming in some 20 years before Fernando Valenzuela and his mania turned the 1980s upside down. Even then, Valladares was still around to see what kind of magic his sport could squeeze out for a generation at the height of the roller disco scene.

From the 1968 Roller Derby Gazette/Joseph Peters “Who’s Who in Roller Derby” Facebook page

He brought showmanship and pop culture value, much like an audience would find watching with the Harlem Globetrotters or the Savannah Bananas.

There was art, merit and an authentic skill set necessary.

As kids figured ways to replicate Roller Derby on the playgrounds, maybe wearing those a Dodger give-away batting helmets and hand-me-down four-wheeled clay skates an older sister might have once worn dreaming to be a figure skater on asphalt, this exercise took talent. Or else you’d be left as just another skid mark.

It felt as if it Three Stooges rough-house theater, cartoon characters come to life. The merriment of a merry-go-round full of arm whips, flying elbows and heavy pouncing. It was wrapped up by the theatrics of an obnoxious infield interview, a folding chair thrown, a table turned over in faux anger. It was their outlet, and it was ours to watch and root on.

Of all the things we were captivated by on TV — and at some point, it took adjusting a tin-foil wrapped TV antenna on the black-and-white Zenith set to find which UHF station actually delivered the taped Sunday-night action between 7 and 9 p.m. — this one had a scoreboard. So it had to be real. Even if it was a rudimentary graphic popping up full screen to clarify what we saw had the merit of someone keeping track of it, like an Dodgers baseball game or USC football game.

We counted on someone keeping track of what was happening on the track.

Ralphie Valladres, in suit and tie, as the Thunderbirds coach.

For some 50 years, Valladares played the part of player, coach and manager, spanning the rise in 1950s to the decline in the early ’90s in a sport that may have kept changing venues and teams, but it always had Dick Lane as the Professor Harold Hill character, barking out the Richmond-9-5171 phone number to lure anyone over to the otherwise sketchy Olympic Auditorium in downtrodden downtown L.A.

We can still hear Lane screeching: “There goes Little Ralphie Valllladarrezzzzzz on the jam!!”

That was our jam.

Valladares was said to be the sport’s all-time leader in whatever important numbers they had created — matches played, career points, points scored in a single game, or bruises distributed. The ageless wheelman had the entire sweet spot of its history.

“Ralphie Valladares was the first and last T-Bird star,” wrote Scott Stephens, a longtime fan, one-time Roller Games skater and author of the 2019 “Rolling Thunder: The Golden Age of Roller Derby & The Rise And Fall of the L.A. T-Birds.”

Yet none of this happens if Valladares’ athletic career goes a different direction. He dreamed of becoming a championship jockey who rode championship thoroughbreds near his home at another famous oval, Hollywood Park. But something else rolled him into a much different arena.

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