Tonga’s Yepi Pauu Pursues His Dream in Arena Football

Yepi Pauu is the greatest Tongan ever to play arena football. There. I said it. I apologize for nothing.

Sometimes you have to take a stand, however controversial, and be willing to pay the consequences. So go ahead, disagree. Criticize the choice. Mock me. I can take it.

What? You say you’re not quite sure what a Yepi Pauu is? You say you’re even less sure what a Tongan might be? As for arena football, you say you have no clue?

First things first. Yepi Pauu (it’s Wehk-pee Pow , to you) is:

A) A popular happy-hour drink at the Polynesian bar of your choice.

B) Mascot of the 1988 Seoul Summer Olympics.

C) A former Santa Ana High School and Saddleback College linebacker who transferred to San Jose State, earned first-team Pacific Coast Athletic Assn. honors, joined the Los Angeles Cobras and became the greatest Tongan ever to play arena football.

The answer is C, although Pauu might want to look into the possibility of A.

Next. Tonga is:

A) The kind of drums that Ricky Ricardo played in “I Love Lucy.”

B) A device used for seizing or lifting objects from your barbecue grill.

C) A group of islands in the South Pacific, just east of the Fiji Islands and, of course, birthplace of the legendary Yepi Pauu.

The answer is C, although Pauu owns a pair of Bs.

And finally . . . arena football is:

A) Frenzied indoor athletic insanity, a mutant form of football that belongs in one of Mel Gibson’s “Mad Max” movies.

B) Home of football castoffs, long shots and players clinging to a National Football League dream.

C) A game in which punting, one-platoon football and high salaries are prohibited.

The answer is, all of the above.

So there you have it, the abridged Yepi Pauu Story. One minute Pauu is at San Jose State, doing what he can do to obtain a degree in administration of justice. The next minute he’s being slammed against a sparsely padded wall on a miniaturized football field at the Sports Arena. All this, he says, for a four-month salary that will total between $20,000 and $30,000 and the possibility that an NFL scout might notice his play.

“I think, basically, I’m doing this to get some exposure,” Pauu said. “I really want to play in the NFL so bad. It’s probably everyone’s dream, their goal. So this might help.”

What a league this is. Eight players to a side. The game clock hardly ever stops. And since the field is the regulation size of a National Hockey League rink, the best seats are on the 25-yard line.

My favorite arena football note comes from the key rules and regulations brochure. It reads: “Players wear regulation tackle football equipment and indoor turf shoes designed to minimize knee, ankle and foot injuries.”

That’s nice. Now what about those thin barriers that encircle the field, the ones players splash against just three yards from the sidelines? Got anything that minimizes concussions and brain trauma?

“Ah, the wall isn’t all that bad,” Pauu said. “It does hurt a little. You do get slammed. And if you’re not in good shape, you might as well call it off.”

There are other quirks. Everyone has to play two positions. “It kills you,” he said. “It’s like going back to the ‘40s. I talk to my coaches and they tell about when they played both ways.”

On the first day of Cobra training camp, Pauu said he remembers watching former Raider wide receiver Cliff Branch take his turn at defensive back. “I thought, ‘Can he play defense?’ ”

Branch couldn’t. Still can’t. “I saw him try to line up,” Pauu said. “He looked totally funny.”

Pauu, a linebacker by trade, plays running back on offense. Just the other night, during a 46-35 loss to the Chicago Bruisers, Pauu scored a Cobra touchdown on the strangest play of the game:

A run.

Rushing isn’t a big priority in arena football. Entering Friday evening’s game against the Bruisers, Pauu led the league with, ta-da, 54 yards. He left Chicago with 8 more, which could pretty much sew up the league rushing title.

And the rules? Pauu is fine until he tries explaining the use of goal-side rebound nets and the scoring system for drop kicks and the live ball concept.

“I’d say I know the majority of the rules,” Pauu said. “Well, not really. There’s stuff about the net, when you can blitz and when you can’t. . . . It’s totally different from the other football. There are so many rules you don’t know about.”

Who can blame him? Even the league itself has established a loophole clause that says every rule can be altered and modified as the season progresses.

And then, some things never change. When the Cobras play at the Sports Arena, a small but noticeable Tongan cheering crowd of Pauu’s friends and relatives wave a banner and cheer, just like the old days at Santa Ana or Saddleback or San Jose State. “They just go out and go crazy,” Pauu said.

So does Pauu, who can still knock the bejabbers out of a runner, with or without the assistance of a padded field barrier. But this, he said, is his first and last arena football season. At season’s end, in July, Pauu said he hopes to be in an NFL camp pursuing that elusive dream. Tonga’s rooting for him.