JUST LIKE A MOVIE AS IN FILM, REAL-LIFE PROBATION CAMP FOOTBALL PROGRAM OFFERS KIDS A CHANCE.

Byline: BRENT HOPKINS Staff Writer

Davian Rollins, lined up at wide receiver for the Camp Kilpatrick Mustangs, digs his cleats into the turf and points to the end zone.

``Yo, ref,'' he says. ``I'm going in. I'm going in.''

The quarterback screams the snap count, gets the ball from the center and laterals to a running back. The ball carrier dances around, jukes through a crowd and lofts the ball, a fluttering, feathery trick pass through the air. Rollins grabs it and dashes in for a touchdown.

In Hollywood, it would finish there. A crowd would cheer, a game would end and a life would be happily redeemed. But nothing is ever that simple for this team, with its grass-stained uniforms and fan section made up of parole officers and a few worried parents.

Rollins has no name emblazoned across his jersey, nor is he going home to a celebratory school. He's a ward of the court, incarcerated in a juvenile probation camp for an undisclosed charge. He doesn't even have a touchdown, as a referee calls the play back on a holding penalty.

Still, Sean Porter applauds from the sideline and smiles.

``Thirty, 60 days ago, these kids were deemed by the court to be unfit for society,'' the former coach said. ``Now they're out here, holding their own. And I don't just mean on the scoreboard.''

Before the camera crews and Cinderella stories, there were just the kids who messed up, the men who tried to straighten them out and football.

The Mustangs' tale will get the Hollywood treatment Friday, with the big-screen release of ``Gridiron Gang.'' Polished, dramatic and starring Dwayne ``The Rock'' Johnson as Porter, the film tells the tale of troubled youths saved by sports and redeemed by the discipline of the football field.

The movie, based on the 1993 Emmy-winning production by Woodland Hills-based father-and-son documentarians Lee and Shane Stanley, depicts Porter as a fire-breathing coach who screams the team into shape. Based on his love of football and belief in the students, he teaches them respect, self-discipline and character.

That's not far off from the real Sean Porter, who's mellowed a bit and advanced in the probation system to become a manager for the camps in the Western region. While he didn't create the sports program, as the film suggests, he played an instrumental role in forming the 11-man football team that still lines up Friday nights.

The camp, off Mulholland Highway in the hills above Malibu, began its sports program in 1986 with a basketball squad. Two years later, it added eight-man football, then went to a full-on program in 1990 under Porter and Malcolm Moore, a former wideout with the Los Angeles Rams who went on to become a probation officer.

Today, it has nine programs, including baseball, soccer and track. The 120-ward camp pulls its recruits from throughout L.A. County, suiting up truants, crack merchants and carjackers. It squeaks by on a $65,000 annual budget, mainly to cover coaches' stipends, equipment and travel.

It has no home field, no cheerleaders and no returning squad. No matter how good its junior varsity program fares one year, its players are never going to be around next season to keep the legacy going.

``A school like (Grace Brethren High School), they already know who their track team's going to be,'' said Craig Levy, the camp's current director, walking the field before last Friday's game against the school. ``I don't even know if my track team's been arrested yet.''

A traditional football program has a twofold goal: Develop student athletes and win a bunch of games.

Kilpatrick's aim is more nuanced -- to get kids out of the correctional system by teaching them responsibility. If its players act up in camp, talk back to their parole officers or play in an unsportsmanlike fashion, they're yanked from the roster.

It's not unusual for the team, already a small squad of slightly more than 30 players, to arrive at a game without star players. For last Friday's match, a varsity and JV player were left at camp. The 1990 team went into the playoffs without its starting quarterback and a guard.

``We have our share of failures, but this gives them a sense of pride,'' said Robert Taylor, L.A. County's chief probation officer.

``They were a part of something and for some of them this might be the first time they got any affirmation. You have a child who's been told for 14 years that they're no good and they believe that. Now, they're part of a team, they realize it's not just about them, it's about the other 10 people on the field.''

Statistics of the program's effectiveness don't exist. Until recently, the county didn't track how many players turned around their lives after playing for the team. But it now plans to evaluate how players fare when compared with those in other extracurricular programs, such as acting, writing and filmmaking.

Still, Levy notes, the expense of housing kids in the camp adds up so quickly that even if only a few players don't return as a result of their experience, it's paid for itself.

``We cannot give up on these kids -- that's the message I want to give as a filmmaker,'' said Lee Stanley, who produced both movies and directed the original documentary. ``When someone invests their time, their heart and their abilities into a kid who doesn't know them, we get good results.''

Porter's investment in Jason Lamb proved to be one of those successes. He came under the coach's direction as a 17-year-old car thief in 1990. He had a dreadful relationship with his family, self-confidence issues and a history of escape attempts from other camps. Porter reached out and made him a wide receiver on the squad portrayed in the documentary, one that eventually made it to the city championships.

``It was definitely life-changing for me,'' Lamb said. ``I'd been in trouble a lot, but once I got into the program, I never tried to get out again.''

Today, Lamb, 33, works as a salesman in North Hollywood and has repaired some relations with his family. Though it took him some time after he played for the team, he stopped getting in trouble. He even makes it out to some games to cheer on his old squad.

The bond between Porter, Moore and wards like Lamb extends beyond the regular coach-player relationship. After games, it's the coaches who escort the players home, to the showers and then watch over them all night.

``We're like a family, and they're like my little kids,'' said Derek Ayres, who's served as head coach for the past two years. ``I put 'em to sleep, I feed 'em, I try to teach them how to be good young men. I hope they learn that there's something besides the streets, something besides gangs or selling drugs.''

That's a been a hard lesson for Nicholas Hernandez, known as ``Rhino'' to his teammates. The huge lineman, 17, landed at Kilpatrick two months ago after what his family described as a drug-related probation violation. Javier Valdez, who lives next door to Hernandez in Pico Rivera and considers him like a little brother, said he'd already seen a change after Rhino strapped on his helmet.

``This takes their mind off all the (nonsense),'' Valdez said. ``If they learn some rules, maybe they'll go to college instead of prison. He could make it. He could be something.''

Watching the team on the field, the players don't look much different than any other bunch of high school kids. They get excited when they score, curse penalties and hang their heads after a loss.

But this is not a normal team.

During Friday's contest, which Kilpatrick ultimately lost, 18-14, a mother pulled Levy aside shortly before halftime.

``Just so you know, there are four gangbangers up there in the stands,'' she said in a hushed tone.

Four men, hair in cornrows, ventured down to the field to talk to one of the equipment managers. Levy spoke to them and suggested they not disrupt the game, then pulled the ward aside and reminded him that he'd been escorted out of camp as a privilege. The ward nodded and said, ``Yes, sir. I don't mess with those guys no more.''

Sometimes, that's true. Players have gone on to return to regular schools. Some went on to play college ball.

Sometimes, they screw up. A standout on the 1990 squad disappeared in the crowd after a playoff game and went absent without leave. A majority of players still reoffend and return to other camps and, in some cases, adult prisons.

But the ones who don't, Moore said, make it worthwhile. In his days as a pro, the strapping officer lived in the rarified world of the superstars. But he still calls his days coaching at Kilpatrick the best job he's ever had.

``I could save somebody else's life,'' he said. ``I was thrilled as hell when I made my first professional football team. I played with Steve Young, Ronnie Lott and Marcus Allen, but there's nothing like making a difference in a kid's life.''

brent.hopkins(at)dailynews.com

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CAPTION(S):

6 photos

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) Captains from the Camp Kilpatrick Mustangs, above, are led by officials to meet the Grace Brethren High Lancers during Friday's football game in Westlake. Below, coach Derek Ayres leads his team in a cheer before the football game.

(3 -- 4 -- color) The Camp Kilpatrick football team stands, above, for the national anthem before its game Friday night against Grace Brethren High School in Westlake. Camp Kilpatrick player James Welch, left, runs down the field after a good play.

Michael Owen Baker/Staff Photographer

(5 -- 6 -- color) The Mustangs' tale will be told with the release Friday of ``Gridiron Gang,'' with former coach Sean Porter, left, being played by Dwayne ``The Rock'' Johnson. For Johnson's story about his troubled youth, see Sports.