Dan Jajczyk bio

Age: 56 Birthplace: Cambridge, England Career: Served in the U.S. Air Force from1977-97. Was an assistant coach at Eaglecrest, Overland and Chaparral before taking job as head coach in March at Adams City, where he has worked as a supervisor of security for Adams County School District 14 since 2012. Why Adams City hired him as coach: “The kids buy into him,” said Anthony Smith, Adams City principal and executive director of school turnaround. “It’s just because he’s an authentic person. Kids, for lack of a better word, they can sense when you’re fake. Dan is not a fake person. They are attracted to his authenticity, and he truly cares. He believes in them and believes they can be better.” Coachspeak: “They are coming together,” Jajczyk said. “Who they are, what they are believing in, it’s a community thing for them. When they take the field, it’s not football. It’s not just football. It’s about who they are and who they want to be.” en,” Jajczyk told his players. “But everyone needs to be held accountable too, right? That’s a hard balance. That’s why you’re struggling to come to a common ground. I’m glad it’s this way.”

In the end, Jajczyk decided, with input from his players, Hernandez would be suspended for two games. But Hernandez was now out of chances. Onemoremisstep, and he was out of the brotherhood.

If this were a Disney movie, Hernandez would have learned his lessons and led his teamto the championship. But in Commerce City, a sweet, neat plot seldom makes the script.

A few weeks later, Hernandez skipped school with teammate Tyler Gallegos, a live-wire playerwho previously punched an opponent. Jajczyk kicked both seniors off the team for the rest of the season.

“Itwas a big life lesson on responsibility and accountability,” a humbled Hernandez would later say. “Coachwas there, andwhen he said he was going to hold me accountable, he did. It gave me a big smack in the face— that’swhat life is going to be like.”

Cold reality

Game No. 8. Longmont. By halftime, the brick sat in the dark, covered by shadows under the freezing aluminum bench on the visitors’ sideline.

The Eagles talked all week about forging their path to the playoffs. The brick had been a symbol of resurgence, raised and celebrated after early-season victories.

But as the mercy-rule clock ran in the second half, the symbolic brick was lifeless, almost rendered worthless.

As Adams City players gazed across the field at the opposite sideline, they sawa vibrant student section waving its arms and shouting synchronized chants: “IT’S ALL OV-ER! IT’S ALL OV-ER!” Longmont 42, Adams City 0. Lacking numbers, Jajczyk was building a program emphasizing character and dedication. He had keptmore than 30 players on the varsity roster nearly all season, no small feat for a program that had long struggled to find willing bodies. Still, nearly every team the Eagles played had twice as many players, many of whom seemed twice as big.

One of Adams City’s best receivers was Fabian Gutierrez, a state runner-up in wrestling a year ago— at the 106-pound weight class.

As the 4-4 Eagles practiced for their final home game, freshmen and sophomores joined the workouts. For much of the past decade, Adams City didn’t have the luxury of keeping underclassmen with their respective freshman and junior varsity teams for the entire season. Thin rosters necessitated extra bodies.

“We pulled triple duty,” explained Matt Jacobs, a former Adams City quarterback. “We had no choice. It got to a point where we were playing freshman, JV and varsity (games). The freshman games would be onWednesday, the varsity game would be played on Fridays, and thenwe’d play JVgames on Saturday.”

The system made it difficult for any of those teams to improve. Games replaced practices, giving players little to no time to work with coaches and hone fundamentals, or grow together as a team.

Jajczyk had made it clear fromthe beginning — teams would support one another, but they would be left to develop on their own. Yet, as AdamsCity approached its final home game, he wanted the younger players to get a taste of varsity ball.

At the pregame ceremony, Adams City honored its seniors, the four who were left.

By halftime, Adams City trailed Loveland by three touchdowns.

“Estevon!” Jajczyk screamed late in the game.

Estevon Garcia, a slender but well-built freshman, previously told his family he was going to get his chance that night. Aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, they were all there, donning homemade T-shirts. “You’re going in at quarterback!” The freshman who wore Superman cleats to practicewas suddenly the varsity quarterback.

Garcia came out firing, yes, sir. He knewonly a fewof the varsity plays, but the kid improvised, unleashing strike after strike on the game’s final drive. Three straight darts put the Eagles near midfield, but time was running out. Garcia hollered for the snap and dropped back. Receiver Steven Lippincott slid across the middle of the field, and Garcia’s strike hit him in stride.

Touchdown, AdamsCity. The few fans who remained roared, and it was September all over again. Jajczyk took off his hat, rubbed his graying buzz cut and grinned. It had been a long month. But the last two minuteswere awelcoming reminder of the possibilities that lay ahead. When it was over, the players gathered together and sang the school fight song, making a 34-point loss feel a little less lopsided.

The first person Garcia hugged was Ismael Andrade, his freshman coach. Coach Izzy, as he was called by his players, played on the last Adams City team that had won a game prior to this season, back in 2008. He was the first person in his family to graduate high school. He then became the first to graduate college. The only place he ever wanted to be was Commerce City, and nights like this were why.

“I feel like a proud dad out there tonight,” Coach Izzy said. “I’m speechless. It’s amazing.”

As a counselor at Adams City, Coach Izzy spent countless hours with Zazueta, helping the junior explore his college options. He saw himself in Juan — not just because the two look like brothers. Not everyone makes it out of here — there’s a 68 percent graduation rate atAdamsCity— but Zazueta seems to be on the same path as his mentor.

“This is why I wanted to be here,” coach Izzy said.“To see kidsmature.”

Hope for the future

They didn’t sit in their seats as much as they slumped, as the bus drove them away from misery and back to reality.

The season was over after a 61-0 drubbing at Windsor, their worst thumping of the fall. The Eagles finished 4-6, winless since Humberto Gonzalez booted a game-winning kick sixweeks earlier.

Butwere there victories amid losing

Were the players better off than they were in August?

Was there any validation to what they went through?

They built a brotherhood, but they lost brothers along the way.

They developed awinning identity, but they left the brick on the window sill by the end.

They absorbed the contagious passion of their coach, but they now entered a winter without football, and structure.

They are “not the same Adams City, bro!” as Zazueta screamed during an earlier game, but howdifferent are they?

Ask the coachwho led his team to the state championship game.

A few days after the regular season ended, Jajczyk and the rest of the coaches from the Longs Peak League met to nominate players for the all-league team. Then, it came time to pick the league’s coach of the year.

Doug Johnson, whose Longmont team won the league and played in Saturday’s 4A state championship, stood up and set his hand on Jajczyk’s shoulder.

“This is the guy we need to vote for coach of the year,” Johnson told the room. Jajczyk was floored. “I didn’t win a game against anyone at this table,” he said. “All five of you beat me.”

These coaches, though, they knew the old Adams City. They didn’t see that team this fall. The new Adams City didn’t win often, but these coaches saw tenacity replace apathy. They saw pride.

Nearly a month after the season ended, as he sat in a noisy breakfast diner in Aurora, Jajczyk was asked again about the brick, the organic symbol of growth his players had so proudly adopted.

Five consecutive losses, multiple suspensions and a mound — no, a mountain — of frustration hadn’t evaporated the hope.

Adams City started building something special, and did so from the ground up.

“In the spring, we’re going to get shovels and go out to that bronze eagle (statue) by the field,” he said. “I want us to dig up the dirt and plant flowers in there. Then, we’re going to put the brick in there to remind everyone that they were the ones who set that foundation.”