On the TunneySide of SportsAfter further review… I sit here on Saturday in the process of writing my weekly column that will soon be published. Thoughts of my brother Peter fill every crevice of my mind. Aug. 6 is Pete’s 84th birthday but he’s not with us. Pete died about a year ago – Sept. 22, 2021. His memory will be with me forever. He was more than just a brother.
It was Aug. 5, 1938, when our family moved from East Los Angeles to 439 No. Daroca, San Gabriel. My dad was a teacher/coach at Lincoln High on North Broadway in Lincoln Heights. With not much money being a teacher in those days, dad managed to save what he could to qualify for an FHA loan with which he bought the Daroca house and lot – for $6,000 he once told me. I remember helping dad load that rental trailer – more than once for this 20-mile trip to 439 Daroca. That trip in his 1936 Dodge seemed like we went through three states. Pete was born the next day.
God love my mom! At 9, I had no idea of the difficulties in moving. I just followed orders – “put this in the trailer,” “put this in the kitchen” — and didn’t fully know the difficulties Mom had in simply moving around. But then you didn’t know my mom – I guess I didn’t either. Not sure when Dad and Mom got to the hospital the next day or with whom my sister Joanne and I boarded.
They brought home this little guy, Pete, with whom I then was forced to share my bedroom. It really was an easy transition. We got along very well. Of course, being 9 years Pete’s senior, I was gone a lot doing my own thing with my friends. Until Pete got to be 3 or 4 we then often played catch. As I got into high school, I spent more time away – sports and all. But I did notice that Pete was faster than most kids. We would have him “race” other kids often 3-5 years older. Then to build his upper body we had him chin himself on our clothes pole. He outperformed everyone who showed up.
Pete played Little League baseball but as he got into high school, football and track were his sports and he was good. He was the captain of every class-level team he played. In his senior year, he broke his leg in the first preseason game and was through for the balance of that season. He ran track, 10.7 seconds in the 100. Gulp! He repeated that in college and set the school record in the 4X100 relay.
He was recruited by Payton Jordan, track coach at Occidental College. Pete did go to Oxy, but Payton took the job at Stanford. Every time Jordan’s Indians competed against Oxy, the Tigers beat them. Pete was also Oxy’s star tailback. In his senior year, he was selected All-Conference and honored on the Little All-American football team. He was in line to play in the NFL. An injury prevented that. However, he followed Dad’s path in California’s thoroughbred racing and was general manager of Golden Gate Fields for 30 years. I miss him every day.
Will you follow brother Peter’s example of bouncing back?
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