Passion around the clock
Football coach John Castelamare starts his Fridays at 4:40 a.m. and doesn't finish till 3 a.m.
By Joey Knight, Times Staff Writer
Published October 2, 2007
Some in-house research has shown that the work ethic of a football coach is not directly proportional to the amount of his salary. Whether these guys earn C-notes or cents on the hour, endless workdays are prevalent at all tax brackets of this driven fraternity.
Wesley Chapel coach John Castelamare helped fortify this hypothesis on a recent Friday.
For years, the 58-year-old father of two has remained sequestered with his staff in a classroom after a Friday night game, breaking down tape and scouting the next opponent until Saturday's wee hours.
Combine that with the normal school day, and Castelamare - not to mention some members of his staff - literally work around the clock on some Fridays. Outlandish? Sure. Obsessive? A little, perhaps. Worth looking into? You bet your No-Doz.
So with Castelamare's blessing, Wesley Chapel principal Andy Frelick's permission and a little caffeine, we decided to document Castelamare's marathon work shift. On the occasion of the Wildcats' recent home game against Hernando, we followed the coach around all day. And night.
4:40 a.m. Friday, Sept. 21
Monday through Thursday, Castelamare gets up at 4:33. Why the extra seven minutes today? Mickey Mantle, whose Yankees pinstripes bore the No.7 during a Hall of Fame career, was Castelamare's favorite baseball player.
"He is as superstitious as he seems," Castelamare's wife, Heidi, will say a few days later.
6:48 a.m. Friday
Castelamare, who arrived at school roughly a half-hour ago, helps set out a buffet of several-dozen bagels in a room near the physical education offices. The breakfast is a game-day perk for Wildcats players.
Castelamare grabs a copy of both local newspapers from a pile outside the administration building. He'll clip stories pertaining to the night's game and tape them on the windows of his office for passers-by to see. Hernando senior tailback George Fribley, coming off a monster game 195 rushing yards, three touchdowns against Gulf, worries him.
"(Hernando) went from the spread to the Houston option to this power-I," Castelamare says in his thick Jersey accent. "I think they looked pretty good in the I. This (Fribley) kid scares me."
7 a.m. Friday
Fellow PE teacher and Wildcats basketball coach Doug Greseth makes the first of several prods at Castelamare about the night's game. Knowing Castelamare is visibly concerned about Hernando, Greseth pounces almost gleefully.
"Hey, Coach, I see you're favored by 17 points," Greseth says, smiling. "I'd start my second-teamers if I were you."
8:40 a.m. Friday
This is the start of second period, one of five classes Castelamare teaches.
As he walks with a dozen or so students to a practice field for some touch football, Castelamare slips on a cap to protect his bald spot from the escalating sun. What he doesn't conceal are his passions for his Italian heritage, New Jersey roots and the University of Nebraska, from which he graduated in 1971.
He was an undersized standout linebacker at Jersey football juggernaut Don Bosco Prep, which, Castelamare proudly notes, played a St. Cecilia program coached in the 1940s by Vince Lombardi. In deference to the NFL legend, Castelamare wears a tie (as well as khakis and a white, short-sleeve button-down shirt) on game nights.
Initially Nebraska's No.8 middle linebacker under defensive coordinator Tom Osborne, Castelamare ultimately earned a spot on the kickoff team. But his career was derailed by six surgeries on his left knee. He graduated, however, earning a degree in special education.
9:38 a.m. Friday
Castelamare and team manager Tyrone Lovett, a Wesley Chapel senior, make their weekly picks of the evening's local prep games.
10:30 a.m. Friday
Lunchtime. At his cluttered desk, Castelamare partakes of another gastronomic superstition: turkey and ham sandwich, half an apple, a banana bread-flavored oatmeal bar and a Caffeine-Free Diet Pepsi. When the Wildcats are winning - they're 3-2 - his game-day menu doesn't waver.
Nor does his ambivalence toward e-mails. Castelamare never checks those stored on his desktop. According to offensive line coach Brian Colding, Castelamare once had about 6,700 unread e-mails in his box.
2:40 p.m. Friday
Castelamare has his traditional pregame meal, the Watterson (roast beef and Swiss on grilled rye, no onions), at a nearby Beef O'Brady's. School ended 45 minutes ago, but Castelamare's day isn't even half over.
Because he lives far from the school, Castelamare says, it doesn't make sense to drive home Friday night, only to return first thing Saturday to break down tape. Besides, he's wide awake after a game. In fact, Castelamare says, he'll typically rise at 8 a.m. Saturday, watch a little TV and do some chores. Sunday mornings, he's off to the gym.
Heidi later corroborates this. Naps, she says, are confined to the living room chair, where her husband of 23 years might be "pretending to be watching TV or trying really hard to stay awake and enjoy a little rest and relaxation."
4:27 p.m. Friday
The players and coaches have convened on Wesley Chapel's field for team pictures. One senses Castelamare would rather check his e-mails than pose for snapshots on a game day.
5:54 p.m. Friday
Castelamare takes his customary pregame walk around the field. Kickoff is 96 minutes away.
7:30 p.m. Friday
Hernando's first possession culminates with Josh Harvey's 40-yard field goal. Just as Castelamare suspected, the Leopards come out in the I-formation. Fribley breaks loose for runs of 14 and 17 yards on the drive.
8:51 p.m. Friday
Random whoops and howls bounce off the walls of the Wildcats' locker room. They have taken a 21-3 lead on three Greg Jenkins touchdown passes. Castelamare calms the players, then delivers a passionate allocution about the dangers of letting up.
"Now I told you if you stop the run, they've got to throw the ball. That's not their forte, is it? They've got to catch up, we've got to get another score. We get the ball right now. ... I don't care what way you do it, score!"
10:09 p.m. Friday
Ten minutes have passed since the end of the Wildcats' 35-3 romp, giving Castelamare his 99th career victory in slightly more than two decades as a varsity coach. The raucous locker room celebration reaches a crescendo when Castelamare walks to the wet board in the front of the room and, in bold black marker, writes the following statistic:
Fribley - 88 yards
1:05 a.m. Saturday
The classroom in which the coaches sit is mostly empty except for a screen, VHS projector and a pair of blue rectangular tables placed end to end. Soda cans are strewn about both tables, and a couple of empty pizza boxes rest on a chair in the back.
Castelamare and his six assistants, who already have reviewed their game, are breaking down tape of the Sept.7 Mitchell-Zephyrhills contest. Wesley Chapel hosts Zephyrhills in seven - er, six - days.
"I don't know what kind of route that is, John," longtime Castelamare assistant George Wortley - backup quarterback of the 1967 Indiana team that made the Rose Bowl - says upon observing a Zephyrhills trips formation.
"It may be two streaks and a hitch," Castelamare says.
"You may be right," Wortley says. "I think that's as close as you're going to get."
2:08 a.m. Saturday
Castelamare walks in darkness to his green Toyota pickup in the parking lot. By the time he gets home, it will be about 3 o'clock - 22 hours, 20 minutes since he rose from bed Friday morning. His workday has been bereft of one power nap and even a drop of coffee.
"But I tell you," assistant Pat Fortunato said the night before, "it's about 100 times better when we win. The food tastes better, you're just in better spirits all around."
Joey Knight can be reached at (813) 226-3350 or jknight@sptimes.com.