LOS ANGELES — Hoisted upon the shoulders of his players, fresh leis piled high around his neck, Bruce Rollinson looked out upon thousands of faithful fans who had braved 48-degree weather to watch Mater Dei High School win its third state football championship in five years.
A chant — “Rollo! Rollo!” — began to echo from the stands.
But rather than stay on the field for postgame interviews with his star players, Rollinson was quickly hustled away by a knot of security guards and assistant coaches when journalists approached him.
The Monarchs’ resounding win on Dec. 11 capped a month of external scrutiny for Rollinson and the school’s storied athletic program, following a lawsuit that accuses Mater Dei and the Roman Catholic Diocese of Orange of trying to cover up a brutal locker room altercation that left a player with a traumatic brain injury.
Allegations of scandals at schools often lead to protests by students, petitions circulated by alumni, and other calls for change. Not at Mater Dei, which has one of the nation’s best high school football programs.
Employees, parents, students and the diocese have largely closed ranks. Supporters and employees of the football program, a fundraising powerhouse, have fallen back on a practiced wall of silence.
The school has pledged to review safety protocols within the athletics program, but Rollinson and school administrators have declined interview requests. Orange County Bishop Kevin Vann has issued one public statement, decrying coverage of the lawsuit as a “media frenzy” that is “concerning and saddening, to say the least.”
The fans, rivals and residents of Orange County who follow the Santa Ana team have split into two entrenched and now-familiar camps: support for a dominant football program that has been unfairly maligned; or deep suspicion that the school and the diocese will tolerate bad behavior to keep winning.
Rollinson is “one of the greatest men to ever walk the planet,” said Steve Daniels, the father of JT Daniels, who led Mater Dei to the 2017 state championship and is now a quarterback at the University of Georgia. The lawsuit accused coaches of fostering a toxic culture where hazing and violence were encouraged, but Steve Daniels said he “couldn’t imagine that being even close to accurate.”
Others say they are troubled by the school’s handling of the alleged hazing, including the 10-month delay in hiring an outside law firm to investigate the February incident.
“There’s nothing honorable or glorious or loving about this,” said John Manly, a Mater Dei graduate and Orange County attorney who has represented victims of sexual abuse at Mater Dei, referencing the school’s traditions of honor, glory and love. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s just ugly.”
School administrators have said little about the alleged hazing. The silence reminds some critics of how an earlier era of Mater Dei officials handled allegations of sexual abuse involving administrators, teachers and staff.
A lone allegation of teenage hazing rarely makes national headlines, but Mater Dei is not just any high school football program. Players practice in college-caliber athletic facilities. Three alumni have gone on to win the Heisman Trophy, including Bryce Young, who received the honor several hours before Mater Dei won the state title. The varsity team alone has more than a dozen coaches, plus two trainers, two equipment managers, a nutritionist and a chief of staff.
“Protecting the church is certainly the motivation for some of this, but it’s also about protecting people’s alma mater from any outside criticism,” said Jodi Balma, a political science professor at Fullerton College. “Mater Dei sells and markets a brand of character building. I don’t think they understand the cognitive dissonance that exists when you’re telling these players and all the non-football players that winning and maintaining an image matters more than integrity.”
Generations of wealthy and powerful people have graduated from Mater Dei, which opened in 1950 as the first coeducational parochial school in Orange County.
