Team Brasa

By Michael Brewer

On three occasions I have sat to pen my memories of  30 years in the sport of soccer. Just this evening I came to the simple conclusion that it is not possible to do in one sitting.

Were I to include the brief time I played on a youth team in Redondo Beach, Ca.. that time frame would span 46 years, with some recreational play while in the Marine Corps.

Hard to imagine, but we did slip in some beach soccer at China Beach in Vietnam  during a brief  respite from combat. We played by “Jungle Rules.” No Red Cards allowed!   We told everyone that we played for the University of  South Vietnam Varsity Soccer Team!  Some folks actually believed us! I still have those joke shirts preserved in storage.

One time while traveling with the Amigo’s  Soccer Team, I actually met a man after the match in El Paso, Texas, who was a Vietnam Veteran and remembered those pick up games on China Beach!  We were clearly a minority sport in those days. Not so much anymore.

The memories of evolving with the sport as a youth and high school coach and official in Tucson are jam packed with tons of friendships and a level of camaraderie that rivals that of the  Marine Corps.  Soccer folk have their very own “Semper Fi” and “esprit de corps” that is quite unique to the sport. It would be inappropriate to name all the families I have met over those coaching years, but let it be known, I can not imagine a better way to be involved in a community than to be entrusted with ones children for several months each year.  Twenty four years as a youth coach, with approximately 15 kids each year is 360 families!  Some of those kids, now grown with their own families are friends to this day.  Now that is nostalgia with glue! God love Facebook!

In addition, I was honored to be the AYSO Area Coach Administrator for nine years, certifying 710 coaches. Again, memories of people and fun that will be relished for life.

The hosting of the renown Ken Aston, a former FIFA honoree and World Cup Referee, was a highlight of those glory days.

The captioned picture is of our team named Brasa, that went on to play Club soccer and then remained together in the Adult Leagues. We won innumerable Tournaments over the years, including a  State Championship at the Copper Cup  in 2006. The picture is of our Championship Indoor Team in 2003.  My son and daughter are in the front row. I had the uncommon honor of knowing and coaching some of those team members since they were 9 & 10 years old!   For that, I am a man in full.

Thank you Team Brasa. And thank you Tucson soccer community for some of the best years of my life in the valley.

To be continued.

Me and my bodyguard arrive at the train depot

By Lydia Brewer

I brought my bodyguard along for an exploratory jaunt back to Tucson from Newport Beach in 1974. He’s the guy in sunglasses on alert just behind my suitcases, a six-shooter on each hip.

Pshaw, you say?

A hippie chick traveling to the Wild West of Tucson on the same rails earlier ridden by the Clantons and the Earps was well-advised to travel with security capable of crystallizing outlaw ruffians.

Headed for two weeks at the holdout of my younger brother Allan, this lady from the land of flower garlands was assured daily safety under the protection of a sibling whose childhood tactics resulted in what our father fondly referred to as Allan-ized.

The new generation was ready, willing, and able to fill the out-grown shoes of Allan-ization. An active boy, my son Christopher was held in shock and awe, often leaving a path of mayhem in his wake. My father quickly dubbed the detritus of Chris’s methods as crystallized.

Christopher clears out the bad guys

Christopher was appropriately rewarded for his unending efforts at remaking his environment as today he is Devin-ated, Blake-ized, and riled by Reilly. That rolling thunderly sound often heard in Tucson? I’m sure it’s my father’s rumbling laughter as he watches retribution in action.

Riding the rails of memories

By Michael Brewer

When my wife and I discussed our approach to this journal of nostalgia we decided we would not attempt to scribble our history in chronological order. Memories do not happen that way.  So, why push the river?

Life in Tucson for me has been infused with memories of  4th Avenue and the Old Pueblo Trolley.   All through Vietnam  I wore a leather wrist band that I bought on leave from a true craftsman on 4th,  for which the Avenue has  always been known.  I swore my lucky talisman got me home alive. If nothing else it gave me hope.

In 1983 when Old Pueblo Trolley formed and began the restoration of the  vintage street cars and the tracks, ( with all volunteer labor), the Cleveland Developer and owner of La Placita Village, with whom I was employed, made a small donation to the cause.   Our breakfast club, El Centro de Tucson with 62 vibrant downtown boosters, made the promotion of the Trolley one of our missions.

Ten years later, inside Tucson time, the operation of the Trolley became a reality.  The 20th Century enterprise was not unlike the first one in the waiting.

“When on earth is Charley Hoff’s street car going to be finished?’ asked one the University folks yesterday.

–Arizona Daily Star April 7, 1898.   So, you see not much changes in Tucson in our view of  timeliness!

“There is no excuse now why the people of Tucson can not visit the university as the famous horse street car line is now completed.  –Arizona Daily Star  May 19, 1898.

And now we are considered a vital link for commerce and development of the downtown.

Well today, 112 years later, I get the honor of being  the Conductor along the same line and the same set of tracks as our ancestors traversed.  And, as a Certified Tourism Ambassador I get to tell tales of the wild and woolly west.  There is never a Saturday evening that is not full of  laughter and joy. There is something about the Trolley that soothes the soul.  Ah… and the children, the smiles and the bliss of ringing the bell.

I wear that leather band to this day–every Saturday night, in fact, as I greet tourists and locals to the clang and the conviviality of the Old Pueblo Trolley and  relish the hope that this area once gave me.  This is hard to replicate anywhere.  Puttin’  my Conductor hat on the rack ain’t gonna be easy.

The Old Pueblo Trolley is an operating transit Museum with a very fine display of the history of transportation offered in our stand alone museum at the end of the Amtrak Station and Southern Pacific Depot.  For more information call 520-792-1802