Barber: Napa High hazing scandal hits close to home
NAPA - High school sports hazing scandals are nearly as ubiquitous as locker rooms these days, but this one hit close to home.
How close? Between a quarter-mile and a half-mile. Eight mini-blocks. Two of my daughters graduated from Napa High School. Two more attend the school now. We live in the neighborhood. I can hear the drums sometimes when the marching band is practicing.
It's a big campus, with at least 2,500 students. Mostly, though, it's a pretty typical high school offering a typical teen experience. Or at least it was. Now it's the place that made the TV evening news.
And what, exactly, happened at NHS? Talk to parents, kids, Napa Valley Unified School District Board of Education members, current and former teachers here, and you'll find that it was either overzealous horseplay or repeated acts of sexual humiliation. The adults meting out punishment and absolution are either bumbling bureaucrats or well-meaning administrators taking time to get things right. The parents who have been packing board meetings are justifiably outraged advocates. Or they're a mob.
This scandal has left a trail of victims, and no discernible winners.
At least one student was upset enough to come forward to the Napa High administration to report being hazed. Five JV football players have been expelled so far, and others remain in limbo, suspended while they await expulsion hearings. The popular varsity football coach, NHS alumnus and athletic hall of fame member, Troy Mott, resigned rather than submit to greater district oversight. The athletic director resigned, too. So did the stadium PA announcer.
Napa High principal Annie Petrie (a former star athlete herself, at Upper Lake) and district superintendent Patrick Sweeney have been verbally pummeled at meetings, and are the subjects of separate “vote of no confidence” petitions on change.org. At last look Thursday, Petrie's had 251 signatures while Sweeney's had 616.
Make no mistake. You can mess with teachers' wages and classroom size, and you'll get mild pushback. But take on the local football team and you're in for a brawl.
NVUSD board meetings tend to be lightly attended affairs. But two sessions in March attracted standing-room-only crowds. One of the board members, Thomas Kensok, estimated that more than 100 people came to each. Certainly, many of them were there to complain about the treatment of suspended athletes, which is hardly a football matter. But just as many showed up to decry Mott's leaving the program (a reminder: he resigned) and Napa High's unrelated proposal to change its Indians mascot.
One woman at the March 16 board meeting, identifying herself as a member of Napa High's class of '79, got choked up while urging the board to keep the mascot. Another mom said the school and district had “destroyed these young boys' lives, and their futures.”
Her son had not been involved in the hazing. She was talking about Mott's resignation.
“I hold you solely responsible and accountable for destroying my child's college football dreams,” she added.
Yes, you could say tensions are running high.
The crux of the matter is what exactly happened in the NHS locker room. And that is related to the ritual of hazing, a tool long favored by soldiers, fraternities, sports teams and other groups that prize masculinity and/or demand discipline.
At one end of the hazing spectrum is harmless indoctrination. On the professional football field, rookies usually have to carry their veteran teammates' shoulder pads and helmets. When I covered the Raiders full time, older players would pick one afternoon to shave the rookies' heads - each scalp a bizarre pattern of clumps and landing strips - and force them to sing.
One year, a rookie refused to comply. His name was Andre Sommersell. He gained brief fame as Mr. Irrelevant, the last of the 255 players selected in the 2004 draft. When it was Sommersell's turn to sing for the vets, he declared, “I'm Mr. Irrelevant, but now I'm very relevant, and this (bleep) is irrelevant,” and he walked away.
As you can imagine, his mic drop did not go unpunished. A few days later, several Raiders worked together to tape Sommersell to a goal post. They threw ice water on his crotch, dumped bottled water on his head, sprinkled talcum powder on his face and left him to bake in the sun. It was all pretty harmless, but when linebacker DeLawrence Grant capped the performance by wiping globs of Vaseline on Sommersell's face, it seemed a step over the line. Could the young guy even breathe?
I remember Troy Hambrick, a running back who would not make the team, returning to the goal post to mercifully wipe away the Vaseline with a towel.
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