There are no sportswriters clamoring for interviews. There are no televised games, no endorsement deals, no multimillion dollar contracts.

For the South Valley Falcons in Lemoore, there's just football.

You may never have heard of Larry Logan, Demetrice Jones and Theodore Daniels, or the Central Valley Football League and its 16 teams, but that's of little importance to the players.

It doesn't matter that there are no NFL scouts in the stands, that there is no paycheck, that there is no celebrity status.

"Nobody's worried about their contract, nobody's worried about what kind of car you are driving. There's no materialistic value to this whatsoever," said Falcons coach Allan McGhuey.

A few have played for arena football teams like the Central Valley Coyotes in Fresno, where people do get paid. One guy actually got as far as NFL training camp before he got cut.

Most Falcons players realize that it's their last chance to put on pads, strap into a helmet and take the field.

"A lot of these guys played football so long, it's just in them. They're not going to give up," said Jones, a five-foot tall halfback trying to get a starting job on the team.

Jones is 33. In football years, that's nearly geriatric, particularly for a running back. The collisions, the hard tackles, they take their toll.

Injuries pile up. Separated shoulders. Torn Achilles tendons. Broken toes and fingers. Bad knees.

This is no softball league with beer between innings and players who can barely break into a run.

"You can't just go out there, not knowing how to play, and just run around," Daniels said.

At 34, he may be the elder statesman of the team.

The younger guys look up to the electrician from Lemoore Naval Air Station with two sons and a brother, Torrance Daniels, who will be playing for the New York Giants in the Super Bowl today.

This is an aspect of the team that no casual observer would notice -- the way older guys mentor the guys fresh out of high school or junior college.

"Basically, hopefully, it will give a bunch of young guys who couldn't continue their career a chance to play, stay active, do something positive in the community," Daniels said.

For many players, high school football is the highlight of their lives. Then comes graduation and real life, where fans and an entire school aren't there to cheer you on.

Some play in college, get a degree, make their way into the middle class.

But for many, life after high school is a stumble into whatever job is available, with kids and a wife or a girlfriend in tow.

Some slide into real trouble.

"A lot of my friends have been in jail for awhile and are still there," said Jones, a personal trainer at In-Shape City in Hanford.

Jones said he fell in with the wrong crowd in high school, chose the wrong friends, had brushes with the law before righting himself.

In past years, several guys on the team were a little "thuggish," McGhuey said.

"Not your usual polite, respectful young men that you'd like to see," he said.

McGhuey likes that kind of a player.

The kind that are already fathers, but still needing a lot of direction themselves.

"We try to make men out of them. It's an outlet for them. It's something they might want to take out their aggressions on," he said.

McGhuey said he and several of the older guys try to find jobs for younger players. Some get hired at the Tachi Palace Hotel & Casino, others at Leprino Foods.

"They become productive in society. It's not just football," McGhuey said.

He makes sure practices are structured, intense, with no time for screwing around. There's no drinking or smoking. There is a code of conduct. If people don't want to follow it, they get cut.

McGhuey has few other motivations for coaching. Like Falcons players, he doesn't get paid. He coaches two other football teams, raises a family and works full-time as a corrections officer.

In a half-hour interview, Daniels talked a lot about mentoring and little about his play on the field.

Daniels, Logan and several other Falcons players coach youth football. That puts them in the interesting position of having their own players watch them play -- and offer criticism.

"The kids come to games and say, 'Hey coach, that's not what you're supposed to do,'" said Logan, team captain and quarterback.

"The glory for me is letting them see me play, watching them have fun," Daniels said.

This may be football at its purest.

Over and over, guys said they are driven by the love of the game.

Guys like Justin Huckabay, a 20-year-old free safety who drives to the Lemoore practices from Fresno.

"It's kind of like a proving point. It just lets me know, I'm going to try to play the sport until I can't play anymore. I want to look back without regret," Huckabay said.

"You know, you've got to do everything you possibly can to stay in shape with these other guys," said Jones, figuring he has maybe two more years of playing before his body throws up the white flag.

A lot of the wives and girlfriends scratch their heads watching their men bang each other up for fun.

Logan said his wife, Nakia, learned to enjoy it when she saw what it meant to him.

"I told her, I'm a kid at heart. I love the game," he said.

Daniels said his wife laughs at him when he comes home hobbling.

"But when she watches me go out and play, notices that I can keep up with younger guys, she cheers me on," he said.

The kids in the stands understand, because they play the game, too.

They, too, are eager for direction and purpose -- not much different, really, from the slightly older guys on the field.

"There's going to be kids who come up with the same problems I had in life. I want to be a mentor to them," Jones said.

"There's still a way to come back."

The reporter can be reached at 583-2432

(Feb. 3, 2008)