Sport: Moeller High's Holy Rollers

Driven by a football Faust who deserves his bravos

They are the kind of stats that a college powerhouse like Alabama’s Crimson Tide might covet, but they belong to Moeller High, a smallish (1,008 students) Roman Catholic boys’ school in suburban Cincinnati. In the 17 years since Coach Jerry Faust organized a varsity football squad, his Fighting Crusaders have won 159 games, been tied twice and suffered just 17 losses. They have rolled up eight undefeated seasons, including the one they completed a week ago with a 37-6 win over a larger school, Mount Healthy. That left Moeller firmly entrenched atop the informal lists as the U.S.’s champion secondary school for the third time in four years and further extended the school’s collection of trophies: eleven Greater Cincinnati League titles as well as three state, seven regional and nine city crowns. Says one of the pack of university scouts who follow Moeller’s fortunes: “This is one of the finest sports dynasties ever. For longevity and total dominance, it’s better than U.C.L.A. basketball.”

Lest battered opponents hope that the dynasty might run down, Faust points to the in-school farm teams that he and his staff of twelve assistant coaches have set up: the freshmen and sophomore squads were both unbeaten this year, and the frosh defense gave up just six points in eight games. Meanwhile Moeller, which draws its students from 13 parishes in Cincinnati’s middle-class northeastern suburbs, is besieged with applications from parents of would-be gridiron greats. They figure that the school’s $725 tuition ($825 for non-Catholics) is a good investment, and with reason. Each year Moeller sends an average of 15 players to college on football scholarships. They have been won by every starting offensive lineman in the past six years and by every starting center and all but one quarterback since 1963. When Notre Dame and Michigan played earlier this year, at one point five of the 22 players on the field were Moeller alumni. Says Faust: “I can tell a boy that if he gets good grades and he’s 6 ft. 2 in. and plays on the offensive line, we can almost guarantee him a scholarship.”

Faust runs an offense that is as sophisticated as those of most colleges. Among other things, it features passing plays devised by one of the coach’s friends from a rival Cincinnati high school, a rather competent quarterback named Roger Staubach. College coaches value especially the precise execution that Moeller players learn. Woody Hayes made three recruiting trips to the school in his final year at Ohio State, and U.S.C.’s John Robinson, Penn State’s Joe Paterno, Michigan’s Bo Schembechler and Notre Dame’s Dan Devine are regular callers.

Faust, a devout Catholic, insists on fortifying the three Rs of football—rushing, receptions and kick returns—with a healthy dose of religion. A sign in the locker room proclaims: GOD + EFFORT + DEDICATION BRINGS VICTORY. Although about 15% of Faust’s players are non-Catholic, they all pray together after practice. On game days they attend benediction in the school chapel, then gather round a statue of the Virgin Mary to pray again. Before taking the field, at halftime, and again after the game, further prayers are offered. Admits Assistant Coach Jeff Liebert: “I think we do pray a little more than anybody else.”

Moeller also plays a little better than anybody else. The Moeller monolith not only bowls over all local opponents but dispatches out-of-state challengers as well. This season, Moeller crushed a perennial Detroit schoolboy power, Brother Rice High School, 33-14, then took on the flagship school of the tough western Pennsylvania mine country, Penn Hills High; score: Moeller 30, Penn Hills 13. The Crusaders’ final regular season game against Mount Healthy was typical. Despite a driving rain that turned the field into a swamp, the flashy Moeller offense still operated in high gear, rolling up five touchdowns.

Faust, 44, a gravel-voiced six-footer, is second-generation football. His father, Gerard Sr., now 72, coached for 20 years in Dayton, where young Jerry was an all-state quarterback. After starring at the University of Dayton, Faust joined local Chaminade High as a backfield coach. Hired in 1960 by Moeller to start a freshman football team, Faust first fielded a varsity in 1963, and the Fighting Crusaders dynasty was born.

Faust works his players year round on weight-training equipment, but otherwise there are few frills and fewer regulations for Moeller’s football stars. With no home field, the Fighting Crusaders played in seven different stadiums during their ten-game regular season, occasionally cramming into a single bus to save money. As for curfews, Faust says: “I tell them that if they have a solid reason for staying out past 12:30, then they can stay out. They’ve never given me a reason.” But the coach does have one firm player rule: “They better conduct themselves as Christians. That’s more important than anything.”

Faust’s players are intensely loyal to him. “He treats everyone like a son,” says Star Tailback Eric Ellington. “We don’t think of him as a coach but as a father.” At the end of each season, Moeller’s football father says farewell in an emotional ceremony that has become traditional. After the final practice, the seniors line up to shake hands with the underclassmen and assistant coaches. This year, as always, Faust stood at the end of the line. He embraced each player, and when the ceremony was over, the teary-eyed seniors nodded their approval of Assistant Coach Bill Clark’s assertion: “The greatest team you will ever be on is the team you’re on right now.”

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