CITY TITLE GAME COMES HOME.

Byline: Kevin Modesti

The past few years, going to the Los Angeles high school football finals has required a full tank of gas, an up-to-date Thomas Guide and a little advice from the locals.

How do you get to El Camino College? A man from the Valley would ask. Drive to the Outskirts and keep going. How do you get to East L.A. College? A mother from Santa Monica would ask. Follow the signs to Nowhere and turn right. How do you get to Birmingham High? A carload of kids from the South Bay would ask. Take the exit marked Oblivion.

Those are some of the places the Los Angeles City Section finals called home after getting booted out of the Coliseum eight years ago, victims of prohibitive costs and the Grinches in the front office of a certain NFL franchise.

But none of those places was home.

Home, for an event that spotlights the best young football players in Los Angeles, should be the Coliseum, the city's first and last great stadium.

It's a tradition that dates back to the 1930s, '40s and '50s, when the region's top prep teams squared off in the PTA Milk Bowl. (The gate proceeds went to buy milk for poor schoolchildren.)

It's an incentive to excel, an incentive that fits the '90s, when interscholastic sports provide kids with an acceptable level of violence.

It's all about the wide eyes of young football players, band musicians and cheerleaders who walk out of the Coliseum tunnel for the first time and stare up at the 90,000 seats, the peristyle, their own faces on the video screen.

``Having that incentive,'' says Jerry Weiner, the former school-district sports publicist who is retired and living in Glendale, ``is a major deterrent to kids becoming involved in (trouble). Having the championship game there puts some glamour in playing high school football.''

Ask Van Nuys High tailback Carlos Mack, who, after leading the Wolves to tonight's City 3-A championship game against Wilson, told a Daily News reporter last Friday that he was inspired by attending the Cal-USC game in October.

``Just attending that game and seeing the whole Coliseum,'' Mack said, ``I knew that's where I wanted to finish my high school playing career.''

After Van Nuys and Wilson play at 5 p.m., Taft and San Pedro will meet for the 4-A title at 8 p.m.

And nobody will have to ask for directions.

So why did it take eight years for high school football to find its way home?

Blame the high cost of renting a 90,000-seat stadium for a night, and the low budget of City high school sports. Blame the Raiders, as if you needed more reasons to hate their management.

The high schools have enjoyed the cooperation of most local pro sports franchises. The Dodgers host the City baseball championships at Dodger Stadium ``at very minimal costs, if any,'' says Barbara Fiege, commissioner of the Los Angeles City Section. The Clippers consented to share a prep-pro doubleheader at the Sports Arena to accommodate the kids.

As a result, the City baseball and basketball finals routinely are held in major-league facilities downtown.

Count on the Raiders to spoil a good thing. They didn't like the idea of the City games chewing up the field on Friday night when the Raiders were scheduled at home on Sunday.

This wasn't only a Raiders thing or a Coliseum thing. When the CIF Southern Section had a contract to play its football finals at Anaheim Stadium, the Rams insisted on a clause forcing the preps to move their games in case of rain. In 1992, the Bishop Amat-Loyola final was shunted to Cerritos College on five hours' notice. The Rose Bowl, the area's other big room, won't use its field for a month before the Rose Bowl game.

The Raiders were even pickier.

``They wouldn't even return our phone calls,'' said Southern Section commissioner Dean Crowley.

``I don't know what their reasoning was,'' complains Sal Castro, a Belmont High history teacher who serves on the Los Angeles Unified School District's Interscholastic Athletics Committee. ``USC and UCLA weren't playing in December (allowing time for the field to recover and be redecorated). It seemed strange to us, because in cities like Washington, Chicago, New York and Philadelphia, the pro teams sponsor the championship games.''

The Raiders left town before the 1995 season. But the City Section's other problem - money - stayed here.

The Southern Section, blessed with more schools, stronger football and richer fans, has been able to pay for major stadiums with its gate receipts. More than 20,000 fans are expected to attend Saturday night's game between Mater Dei and Loyola at the Coliseum.

The City Section, though, can't afford the Coliseum's $50,000 asking price.

Castro sought a solution from city government. He called on city Councilman Richard Alatorre - an old friend from East Los Angeles and a prep football fan - and Alatorre got Mayor Richard Riordan and Police Chief Willie Wilson involved.

At Alatorre's urging, the Coliseum agreed to shave its price to $40,000 if the LAUSD provided security for inside the stadium, leaving the LAPD to police the outside. Then, after the City Section pledged $10,000, which is about what it has raised with ticket sales at recent football finals, the politicians promised to find $30,000 from yet-to-be-named private sources.

``It's a public-private partnership,'' Alatorre says. ``It's an example of the kind of thing that we should be doing.''

``The real answers came from the councilman and the mayor,'' says Coliseum general manager Pat Lynch. ``They did a hero's task here.''

But this is a one-year solution. The City Section, Alatorre warns, ``has got to become more aggressive in their promotion of the games themselves.''

Officially, these games are known as the CIF Los Angeles City Section ARCO am/pm 3-A and 4-A Football Championships, in honor of ARCO's support of high school sports statewide. But more sponsors will be needed to keep the game where it belongs.

If you're a Taft or Van Nuys fan from the Valley, or if you're a preps fan from anywhere, get to the games tonight. It will take a big crowd to persuade sponsors to get involved.

Then, in future years, we can say to young football players: How do you get to the Coliseum? Practice, kid, practice.