Ed Piper Sr.-type guys

Nick Hammel battles Otay Ranch in 10-4 win

on St. Patrick's Day in the Bully's East Tournament.

(Photos by Ed Piper)

 

Dane Hansen holds a Madison runner on base

in Viking home game May 16.

By Ed Piper

Nick Hammel and Dane Hansen, just finishing their junior years at La Jolla High, are two level-headed guys.

Like Ed Piper Sr.

What am I talking about? Hammel and Hansen, fellow Class of '17 student athletes, don't change in demeanor on the field, or, in Hammel's case, on the court, regardless of circumstances.

They're not robots, but they have impressed me with their consistent character and behavior.

My father, Ed Piper Sr., a big guy like I am, was known by his friends for maintaining the same calm demeanor all the time.

I visited my cousin, Bruce, who is the editor of the newspaper in a tiny town in Nebraska. Just like his "Uncle Ned", as his family called my father. Same likeable, easy-going, whatever-comes kind of outlook.

It's very easy to be around--most of the time. And you always know what to expect. You get the same person every time.

Of course, as the namesake youngest child of three who was big and loud and physically resembled his father, we butted heads a few times in my adolescence.

But for me to think of Nick and Dane as Ed Piper Sr.-type guys, I've giving them one of the ultimate compliments.

I've observed both, Hammel on the basketball court for the Viking hoop team this past season, the field for the baseball team, and now during two weeks of spring football practice so far. And his teammate, the equally level Hansen, during baseball for the Vikes and now spring football.

In my head, I had planned to write this column way back during baseball, early in the season, when I was struck by this non-meteoric steadiness. But I never quite got to the keyboard.

I remember earlier in the baseball season, before Hammel sustained an arm injury, in a game at Valhalla. It was a long drive in a Buick to get to that game, as Dick Howser would say. Valhalla is way off the Interstate 8 to heck-and-gone.

There was a hit, or there was a strikeout with the right-hander starting for Gary Frank's varsity. But you couldn't really tell which. Nick just doesn't show outwardly that he's super excited or super distraught. It's reassuring for his teammates, and I'm sure confidence-building for his coaches.

In the same way, Hansen, a consistent presence at first base, doesn't show lots of emotion. He just shows up everyday, plays solid baseball, and goes about his routine as a guy you can count on.

I'm sure they've both had their moments. But neither one snaps bats over their knee after a strikeout, or throws equipment. It's just not in their makeup.

I'm not denying in any way that they harbor intense competitiveness. Hansen didn't make it as a starter on the line for the Viking football team last fall by whistling Dixie. He's a hard worker. He'll get it done. Same with Hammel as a starting linebacker last year.

About the biggest thing you'll hear from Hansen is about his wearing glasses versus contact lenses. He recently told me that contacts don't work for him in baseball, because he can't pick up the "detail" he needs, like the pitched ball while he's at the plate. That's about all the attention he'll bring to himself.

That's the way my dad was. He passed away years ago, in 1979, when I was a mere lad of 25. We had had our battles during the Vietnam War years of the early 70's, when my brother Steve and I would come home for breaks from our respective colleges, long-haired and steeped on the activism on our campuses, and tell our dad he was partially responsible for the deaths going on across the sea in that disastrous war by his working for Northrop, an aerospace company.

Boy, that went over well.

Mom would referee our bouts at the Piper dinner table. Finally, our dad laid down a command: "I don't want to hear any more of it."

So, to lose him at age 25, my namesake and my twin in stature and appearance--though our cousin Bruce physically resembles him more than my brother Steve or me--I had to lick my wounds from those battles and learn to appreciate Dad's solidness, his integrity--his steadiness.

Whereas I took after my mom, with her Hoose peaks and valleys, and boosts of energy, my dad modeled riding on a pretty even keel. That's why my mom and dad worked so well together--to balance each other out.

And that's where the steady junior pair, Hammel and Hansen, come in. Steady. Calm. Not showy. Just showing up everyday.

New head football coach Matt Morrison, I'm sure, is going to grow to appreciate their presence more and more.

Not the Eveready battery bunny. The Little Engines That Could. Not bringing attention to themselves. Consistent. And moving ahead.