<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8902180159
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
891129
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, November 29, 1989
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1F
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo Color
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>


:
Lomas Brown
</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1989, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
LOMAS' TALE: FROM TROMBONE TO TACKLE
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
I was talking with Lomas Brown the other day and found out something I
didn't know.

  "I never wanted to be a football player," he said. "In 10th grade, I wasn't
even on the football team."

  "Really?" I said. "What team were you on?"
  "I was in the band. I played the trombone."
  Now, for those of you who don't follow football, try to envision this:
Brown, the Lions' offensive  tackle, is not a small man. He is not a medium
man. He weighs 275 pounds and stands 6-feet-4. That's big. Even for a
trombone.
  It is hard to envision him in one of those band uniforms with hat and  the
white shoes, marching alongside the trumpets and tubas. Not that many kids
would want to stand next to him. I can see Lomas taking a deep breath, blowing
into the mouthpiece, and watching the slide  fly across the field and hit the
clarinet player in the head.
  "What  happened?" I asked.
  "The first week of school, I was walking to band practice and the
principal came up and said, 'Young  man, do you play sports?' And I said, 'No,
I was in band.' And he said, 'I think you should try out for the football
team.' And I said, 'What about the band?' And he said, 'You can always come
back to  the band.'
  "And he took me down there and introduced me to the coach and made me play
football."
  "Did you like it?"
  "At first, I hated it, because I was sore all the time."
  "Why did  you join?"
  "Because he was the principal. And you did whatever the principal said,
right?"
A principal never forgets 
  Now, I have heard some interesting origins of professional athletes. I
have heard of an Australian baseball player, who learned to pitch only as a
way to get to America. I have heard of a 7-foot-6 Dinka tribesman named Manute
Bol, who never saw a basketball until his late  teens, and knocked his front
teeth out on the rim the first time he tried to play. 
  I have never heard of a trombone player snatched from the band and
inserted into the high school football lineup. Usually, it's the other way
around. Kid tries out for football, gets his head pounded in, and realizes
he'll live a lot longer if he learns to play the saxophone.
  But lucky Lomas. He joined the team  at Miami Springs High School, became a
star ("It got fun after that," he said) and won a scholarship to Florida. Four
years later, he was the No. 1 draft choice by the Lions. And today, he is one
of the better tackles in the NFL. All because he didn't want to disobey the
principal.
  "I don't even know where he is now," said Brown, laughing. "But if I ever
run into him, I'd like to shake his  hand."
  He may get the chance. Turns out the man's name is Alex Bromir, he is 58
years old and he is still down there in the South Florida school system. He
has worked his way up from teacher to  principal and now to area
superintendent. I tracked him down and called him on the phone.
  "It's about Lomas Brown," I explained.
  "Oh, Lomas!" he said. "He was a good kid."
  "He says you  made him play football."
  "Hmmm. That's right. I think I did. He was pretty big, even back then. I
remember I asked him, 'Do you play sports?' and he said, 'No, sir. I'm in the
band.' He was always  very polite."
  "Is it common for the principal to take a kid from the band and put him on
the football team?"
  "No," he said. "But not too many kids are 6-foot-4 in the 10th grade,
either."
  "He says he only did it because you don't disobey the principal."
  Bromir  laughed. "He said that?"
No song and dance on field 
  Amazing. A single sentence on a single afternoon, and now the  kid is in
the NFL, earning 10 times the salary of the principal. Makes you wonder how
lives are changed, doesn't it? If only someone had told Deion Sanders about
the ham radio club.
  "I was always  proud of Lomas," Bromir said. "I've followed his career a
little. I still remember the night he was on the Bob Hope show with the
All-America team. And I saw him play on TV last week. The Thanksgiving  game."
  "Is he the most successful athlete to come out of Miami Springs High
School?"
  "I would have to say yes."
  "All because you plucked him from the band?"
  Bromir  laughed. "See  what I did?"
  Amazing. Of course, we'll never know what talent the music world has lost.
What if Brown were really talented on the trombone? What if he was the next
J.J. Johnson? What if his real  calling is tackling Mozart, not defensive
linemen?
  "My trombone days are over," Brown said. "I haven't touched the thing in
years."
  Then again, you never know. Lomas wants to renegotiate his contract, but
has gotten no response.  If that keeps up, he might just walk into Bill
Ford's office, lift the mouthpiece to his lips, and take real good aim. . . .
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<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
INTERVIEW; LOMAS BROWN;BIOGRAPHY;FOOTBALL
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
