By John Klima
Staff Writer

(One of five columns selected by Associated Press Sports Editors in 2007 awards)

Devin Adair once walked into a bar wearing a T-shirt that said ‘STUD,’ pretending to be the guy who played ‘Stifler’ in American Pie, because his friends said he looked just like him. He would be replete with his quarterback posing as his publicist and a lineman acting as his bodyguard.

He once spotted his entire football team half-a-flight of stadium steps and still beat them all to the top, smirking like time is for suckers.

He also, in no particular order, once stepped on a safety’s back after the player had pushed him out of bounds, put his fist through the windshield of a friend’s truck, sent the fear of god into his football coach, shown the shamrock tattoo on his left calf, and made friends with everyone on his football team in a matter of minutes.

Don Poole lost his favorite receiver Saturday when Adair, who would have been 21 this summer and a probable starting tight end for the University of Tulsa next fall, died half-a-country away from a sudden and mysterious staph infection. When Poole, the quarterback who pretended to be the publicist, heard the news, he thought it was a sick joke because, well, he knew Adair had a twisted sense of humor. Poole lived with Adair’s family for two months between his freshman and sophomore years at El Camino, and the tight end from Mira Costa became Poole’s close friend, workout partner and wingman.

Death has a way of coming in pairs, and the day before Adair died, Poole’s 98-year-old grandmother, Millie Poole, passed away. Poole found himself in a strange emotional paradox, celebrating the completion of one life and the unexpected end of another, comparing the feelings about a woman “who died with a smile on her face,” to the friend who died before he could catch his next pass.

“Guys like us aren’t supposed to die like this,” Poole said. “Maybe in a car wreck or a plane crash, something freak, but not like this. Devin was probably the most physically fit guy I’ve ever been around. If you wanted to work out with him, you had to get up at dawn. He would always win the stadium run. There was never a race for first. It was always a race between second and third.”

No one had to worry about knowing where Adair’s feelings stood.

“He would get up in your face,” safety Nate Ness said. “But he did that to make guys better. Devin was a big kid at heart. You would crack up at the things he said. He was so funny, he reminded us of ‘Stifler.’”

Ness, an African-American, graduated from Gardena and grew up in Los Angeles, near Century and Vermont. Adair graduated from Mira Costa and grew up within walking distance of the ocean. Ness first met Adair in spring practices, when Adair came back from trying to play at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, partly because the coaches wanted him to be a linebacker, and he wanted the ball in his hands.

“During 1-on-1 (drills), he was very out-to-get-you,” Ness said. “I liked that. When I sat down, he said, ‘I’m just here to take care of business and get a ride.’ I thought, ‘OK. ‘He’s cool.’”

Poole and Adair had a special connection. They were party guys, hell-bent football players, and they shared the same mentality.

“Whenever you saw Donnie, you saw Devin,” Ness said. “They gelled up so quick, you would think they were brothers.”

Poole never forgot the first time he saw Adair play. It was on Adair’s high school video reel. The free safety ran him down after a 60-yard gain and knocked him out of bounds. Adair was on his feet; the safety on his belly.

“Devin, in his fiery, pumped-up crazy self, threw the ball to the ref, and stepped on the guy’s back when he tried to get up. I loved that. He was cut throat, no mercy. He wanted to rip your heart out of your chest and show it to you.”

As Poole recalled the stories of his friend, he sounded as though his own heart was gone.

“He might not have been everyone’s kind of player,” Poole said, “But he was mine.”

Adair had an edgy streak. He left football coaches exasperated. His personality was found in football. He earned a Division I opportunity after making 30 catches for 508 yards and seven touchdowns in El Camino’s 10-0 regular season. He came to El Camino because it was close to home and he did not want to play defense, and stirred the pot immediately. In practice, he grabbed another player’s facemask, drawing the ire of Coach John Featherstone.

“He yelled at (Featherstone) with the look of death,” Poole said. “Devin had kind of a pointy nose and vibrant eyes, and he could stare a hole through you. Everyone’s jaw dropped, like they were stunned someone could get away with it, but for some reason, it was OK. (Featherstone) was real quiet after that, too.”

Ness will play next season at Arizona. Poole is waiting on a final word from Cornell. The next time they put on game-day uniforms, each said they will mark Adair’s number “1” somewhere on their equipment. El Camino will retire the number. Somewhere within, both say there will be a void. After all, Devin Adair was always the first guy to make it to the top.