Why was the 'Red' Romo Scholarship Fund started?
Following Red's death this letter was received. It is addressed to Red's Son and
Daughter, Rusty and Brynne Romo.
Rusty started the Red Romo Scholarship Fund shortly after...
3, September 99
Annapolis,
Dear Rusty & Brynne,
I was greatly saddened to hear the news of your father’s death. I’m sorry I was
in San Diego and couldn’t make the funeral but my thoughts were with you.
I always thought Red was a great man and love his sense of humor and enjoyment of
life. I’ll always remember how he helped me and the other midshipman at the Naval
Academy.
Red was one of the most influential people in my life and I’ll always owe him a
debt of gratitude. Being a midshipman at the Naval Academy was not easy but your
father-probably more than anyone else at USNA –Helped me graduate, without his guidance
my life would be completely different let me tell you the story.
I came to the Naval Academy for many reasons-one of the most important was to play
Navy football. Like most guys I’d seen the Army-Navy game as a kid and wanted to
be part of the tradition. All my hero’s were Navy Football players- Bull Halsey
Rodger-Dodger, my father who played for Lou little, thought the Navy Guys were “tough
sons of a bitches” That’s the greatest compliment from a guy from Brooklyn. The
fact that I was 155 lbs 6ft and ran a 5.0 40 yard dash was just in my mind minor
obstacles, I obviously wasn’t recruited but I had started for three years for the
Florida State champions and knew that I could play the game if I got the chance.
As you have probably guessed by now nobody- I mean nobody was willing to let me
even practice with the Navy team. I guess looking back I can’t blame them I had
no speed, no size and no strength, but some how I knew if I could just get to hit
somebody I mean knock them out hit them that I’d make the team. By now it was the
end of Plebe summer and the freshman team was forming. This was not a fun time:
I was racking up demerits and basically discovering that I was not going to survive
the academy if I didn’t play football. During parent’s weekend I told my parents
I was going to leave if I didn’t make the team. Still I had no idea how I’d do it.
The first day of practice is the day I’ll never forget- It’s the first day I met
your dad. Remember that this is a very regimented academy and there are formations
for everything; classes, meals, and after class intramural sports, I sweated the
entire day because I knew that in order to practice I had to some how get on a list
for Navy football.
If I skipped my intramural sports formation I could get demerits for “unauthorized
absence” (75 Demerits/15hrs marching) but that was not the problem. I was concerned
that if I lied and told the coaches I was on the list that I could get thrown out
for an honor offence. I decided to pretend I was just another confused plebe. I
showed up at the locker room jumped in the equipment issue line with a hundred other
guys, my plan was to stay at the back of the line and just sort of jump when the
opportunity presented itself. Now the plan was not quite as desperate as it sounds,
because I had a back up insurance policy- I had my high school helmet and shoes!
Genius that I was I knew that the fact that my helmet was black as a kettle would
be only a minor set back- some-how I’d get some Navy gold paint.
I guess your Dad heard the commotion because as I was pleading with the equipment
manager he came over. I don’t think for a second your dad believed I should be on
the List Perhaps someone made a mistake.
R…E…I…D? Finally I just told him “ Look this is my dream to play navy football and
all I need is some Navy gold paint” after the longest 30 seconds of my life your
dad looked at me up and down and said better tape those ankles.
The rest of the story is anti-climatic Red got me a real Navy gold helmet I taped
my name on it and ran the slowest 40 yard dash in the history of Navy Football.
In the first three years I played a total of 1 minute and 36 seconds and held dummies
at practice pretending to be some great player at Michigan or Notre Dame. All the
time red would kid me that the NAAA was going broke taping my knee, ankles, wrist,
ribs et al.
He always had a good story and would tell me that he was personally responsible
for putting the dodger in Rodger and years later that David Robinson’s growth spurt
was due to the fact that he had taped David’s ankles too tightly, “ He loved when
I reported that he put the “Bull” in Halsey.
He was just a fun guy to be around and I knew that no matter what happened I could
always talk to Red. Funny thing that while your dad spent 30 minutes a day with
me while I was a “bomber” (scout team guy) He spent a lot less time prior to practice
once I finally started. Maybe he knew that I finally made the team and as a firstie
would be ok.
To me Red represented all that is good about the Naval Academy and Navy Football
and I’m glad I knew him the way I knew him, as the guy who helped me accomplish
my dream. I guess what I am trying to say is that even though I was just a no name
no recruited dummy holder he treated me like I was a Heisman Trophy contender and
I will never forget him.
I’m sorry for your loss and hope you know how much your father was loved by all
of us.
Love.
By Bob Socci
Two questions immediately came to mind when I read a recent press release
announcing the late Leon "Red" Romo's induction into the Maryland State
Athletic Trainers Hall of Fame.
First, I wondered, "He's not in already?" And more incredulously, I
thought, "What took so long?"
Then it occurred to me. Red Romo had long ago achieved something far
greater than being officially deemed a Hall of Famer.
Much more than being enshrined with a plaque or remembered by words printed
on a certificate, he created a living, breathing legacy that endures through
those he touched in his four decades at the Naval Academy.
Just like so many of his generation who helped impart life's lessons to the
aspiring leaders they coached or - in Red's case - treated in their time on
The Yard.
If it takes a village to raise the children who enter Annapolis each summer,
so too it takes people like Red Romo or Steve Belichick or Joe Duff - or
someone else you can no doubt think of - to see a one-day homesick plebe to
some-day manhood or womanhood.
As the officer he or she is bound to become.
In Red's case, maybe it was forty-one years worth of endless stories that
provoked smiles and one-liners that prompted laughter during morning
treatment in the trainer's room or on a football Saturday along the
sideline.
Away from the demands of the classroom, the pressures of Bancroft Hall or
the disappointments that come with competition, he could always be counted
on to serve a little wit and wisdom with a side order of 'Romo Toast'.
Or, more simply, maybe all he needed to do was pull another pair of pants
out of the closet - the ones with those colorful, sometimes outrageous
patterns - to cause more than the occasional chuckle.
With men like Belichick and Duff, the daily demand of themselves and their
athletes to be better than before surely rubbed off on those they coached -
in football and baseball, respectively - or taught in phys ed.
Such impact - through their spirit, in the memories they created - endures.
It could be with a Heisman Trophy winner like Joe Bellino or some
lesser-known junior varsity backup who made his name in the Navy, Marine
Corps or private business.
More than 40 years later, Bellino and others of his era fondly recall
pre-game meetings when Belichick, a Navy football assistant for 33 years,
would dispense his weekly scouting report.
Never was there a nuance uncovered or was there any trace of uncertainty
about a game plan crafted to help the Mids exploit each opponent's
weaknesses.
What seemed brilliant in the end usually boiled down to one thing at the
beginning - an unwavering attention to detail born out of a determination to
get it right.
Listening to some who once sat in such sessions, it seems they learned far
more than simply the keys to victory over Vanderbilt.
Perhaps they learned - among many things - the absolute importance of
exhaustive preparation.
And with it, something that would transcend their sport and serve them well
in future roles on the bridge of a carrier, if not in the board room of a
Fortune 500 company.
If not both.
When asked last December to share his memories, Phil McConkey - the
diminutive Navy receiver who went on to a six-year NFL career - said he
thinks of his ex-coach every morning.
Still to this day, McConkey said, he performs the same stretching program he
was taught as a young Mid by Belichick.
Perhaps with each exercise, as he loosens his muscles, the player can still
hear the old coach's voice echoing from McConkey's youth, as if transported
back to a practice field along the Severn.
It's likely those who played under Duff experience similar moments when they
call their coach to mind. Perhaps while having a catch with their kids or
just watching a ballgame on TV - wondering whatever happened to
fundamentals.
For many, the words that resonate may not be those from someone wearing a
whistle. Instead, they may simply be the lingering encouragement from the
honorary coach who never, ever failed to make a practice.
However rainy or cold, no matter how strong the winds blew on those dark
December nights when Army was around the corner.
We should all have such figures in our lives. And just maybe, when we
really think about the many voices of our past, we do.
They forgive us when we go astray, congratulate us when we do ourselves
proud and remind us of the golden rules we should never forget.
And they need not be in anyone's Hall of Fame.
After all, they're already in a much better place - our hearts.