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. 12:
= Vlade Divac, Los Angeles Lakers
= Charles White: USC football
= Dusty Baker: Los Angeles Dodgers
= Tommy Davis: Los Angeles Dodgers
= James Harris: Los Angeles Rams
= Juju Watkins: USC women’s basketball
= Dwight Howard: Los Angeles Lakers
The not-so-obvious choices for No. 12:
= Pat Riley: Los Angeles Lakers
= Gerrit Cole: UCLA baseball
= Denise Curry: UCLA women’s basketball
= Joe Namath: Los Angeles Rams
= Randall Cunningham: Santa Barbara High football
The most interesting story for No. 12:
Richard Nixon: Whittier College football offensive tackle (1930 to 1933)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Yorba Linda, Fullerton, Whittier, San Clemente
Richard Nixon was going viral on Instagram in the spring of 2026, and few could figure out why.
Gen Z is “Nixonmaxxing hard af,” said the deck head in a story posted on LAMaterial.com.
Since last June, the Nixon Foundation, a nonprofit that runs the Nixon Presidential Library in Yorba Linda jointly with the federal government, has produced a steady churn of viral content — sleek, sexy edits of archival footage set to trending music — that looks more like promo material for a hip-hop artist than a disgraced, long-dead president.
“The Gen Z-coded videos show Nixon leading crowds of suited men to Biggie’s ‘Hypnotize,’ and delivering speeches in packed stadiums to ‘WE ON GO’ by the rapper BIA,” wrote Tomo Chien. “In the videos, Nixon projects what one commenter called ‘absolute aura,’ and the foundation has more than doubled its Instagram following to 105,000 in the last year.”
A limited run of “Nixonmaxxing” hats it produced quickly sold.
“Alternative histories of Watergate are as old as the scandal itself,” Chein added. “Theorists across the political spectrum have long suggested, without solid evidence, that the infamous burglary was staged by the CIA in an effort to oust Nixon, or that the ensuing scandal was largely the work of vindictive deep state actors who wanted him out.
“But the Gen Z-focused content by the Nixon Foundation epitomizes a new strain of Watergate revisionism that began around the start of Donald Trump’s first presidency.”
Maybe someone ought to also dig more into Nixon’s career as a college athlete, as long as revisionist history is in vogue.
Victories were unimpeachable in Richard Milhous Nixon’s view of life and legacy.
Even though he lost the 1960 Presidential Election, it was by a mere 0.17 points in the popular vote. When he lost the 1962 California governor’s race, it was by five points.
None of that would define him — nor would he stand for anyone kicking him around in the public arena. His foundation in how sports are played, how wins are made to erase losses, were what kept him going.
His greatest comeback — winning the 1968 election, to become the 37th President of the United States. Four years later, a landslide re-election in 1972, winning by nearly 18 million votes.
Nixon went into his “V” formation.
In four-plus years as the commander in chief, Nixon was also obsessed with not being the one pinned with the one in charge who was losing the Vietnam War. So there’s the old sports adage: If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.
Crossing that line of demarcation, sportsman-like or not, led to him forfeiting the most powerful position in the world. A devastating defeat that became the lede to his obituary.
A win-at-all-costs philosophy likely came from a frustrated athletic career he had, first at Fullerton High, then Whittier High, then to a highly influential period of his life playing on the Whittier College football team, wearing No. 12 in his senior year.
Nixon believed in the words and actions by a football coach known as “Chief” who had a commanding voice.
Nixon hated losing. Perhaps, to his determent. Sports set the foundation.
Born on a lemon ranch in Yorba Linda in 1913, Richard (given the name by his parents after Richard the Lionheart) was 12 years old when a spot was found on his lung and there was a family history of tuberculosis — an older and younger brother died from it.
Richard Nixon was told not to play sports. Even thought the spot turned out to be scar tissue from an early bout of pneumonia.
Growing up among those Nixon would eventually refer to as “forgotten Americans” and the “silent majority” of hard-working church folks just chasing a dream, he was drawn to try out for JV football at Fullerton High. When he then transferred closer to home at Whittier High at the start of his junior year, he ended up as a student manager for the athletic teams. At Whittier High, he ran for class president but lost to a candidate he would describe as “an athlete and personality boy.”
With the start of the Great Depression in 1930, Nixon didn’t pursue college at Harvard or Yale, but stayed closer to home at Whittier College, pursing a history degree. While he played basketball and football, and also tried out for track and baseball, his victories were celebrated on the debate team.
Continue reading “No. 12: Richard Nixon”
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