WILLIAMSPORT, Pa. (AP) — The shouts of “Yeah, Tom!” started the moment Tom Cillo crossed the white paint on the sideline and stepped onto the field at Girardi Stadium.
After a couple of bounces to expend some of the nervous energy and a playful cup of his left ear toward the crowd, the oldest freshman nose tackle in the country dropped down into a three-point stance.
Cillo glanced across the line of scrimmage at King’s College freshman center Anthony D’Antonio, four decades younger than the 58-year-old Cillo.
“What’s up, Tom?” D’Antonio said, extending his hand out of respect. Cillo returned the favor.
A few seconds later, the pleasantries ended. D’Antonio snapped the ball and surged toward Cillo. Cillo, at 6-foot-2 and 220 pounds, “small” only by football’s outsized standards, rose to meet him.
The whistle soon sounded to signal the end of the play following a shortish gain. And in that moment, Cillo was no longer burdened by the inescapable mid-life question of “what if?” He was no longer a curiosity, but an official, game-tested NCAA Division III college football player, just like everyone else in uniform on this sun-drenched early fall Sunday.
Even if, in many ways, Cillo is like no one else.
“It doesn’t compare to the birth of your children,” the father of three said after making his debut as a member of Lycoming’s junior varsity in a 16-9 victory on Sept. 28. “But I’m telling you, from a competitor’s standpoint and a guy that’s loved to compete at different things over the years, I think this goes to the top of the chart. This was awesome.”
And, he stressed, just the beginning. Those adrenaline-fueled half-dozen snaps did not mark the end of a journey, but merely a milepost along the way.
“Now that I’ve got some actual game reps, it’s going to keep building,” Cillo said, the smile emerging from his salt-and-pepper beard growing ever wider. “I can’t wait.”
Why would he? He’s waited long enough. Far too long, if he’s being honest.
‘Put it out of sight’
So how did Cillo get here? How did a guy who is drawing from his pension and will be eligible for Social Security before he graduates end up leading his Gen Z teammates in an old-school postgame cheer of “Hip Hip Hooray”? How did someone who drives to campus every day in a sedan that might be older than some of his fellow freshmen become an unlikely — if perfect — brand ambassador for a topical pain reliever as part of a NIL deal?
Dave Bellomo is glad you asked.
Bellomo and Cillo — who have known each other for 30 years — were sipping beer in the middle of a catch-up session last spring when the conversation took a turn.
Cillo had recently left his job as part of the Williamsport Recreation Department, where for more than three decades he kept the local streets and parks clean in the north-central Pennsylvania town most widely known as the home of the Little League World Series. He took a maintenance gig at Williamsport Area High School, where he graduated from in 1984, to give himself something to do.
Somewhere deep inside, Cillo could feel the clock ticking.
“I have some regrets,” Cillo told Bellomo.
Not going to college was one of them. Never playing football — Cillo made it through a couple of training camp practices in high school before quitting — was another.
Bellomo, who served as Cillo’s de facto trainer as Cillo navigated everything from power lifting to marathons to triathlons, had one question.
“I’m like, ‘Why don’t you?’” Bellomo said.
Bellomo pointed out that Cillo had been able to make it to his late 50s without any serious injuries. He’d stopped using recreational drugs in his early 20s and said goodbye to heavy drinking in his 30s, replacing those vices with a relentless curiosity and an innate desire to test himself.
Plus, Cillo’s kids — stepson Shawn is 32, Nicole is 28 and Ryan is 21 — are now grown. Ana, his wife of nearly 30 years, had always been wary but supportive whenever her husband wanted to try something new. There was literally nothing holding him back.
Well, other than the fact that no one has ever done something quite like this.
There have been AARP-eligible college football players before. Tom Thompson and Alan Moore were both 61 when they booted extra points. Mike Flynt returned from a long break from the game to play one final season at linebacker for NAIA-level Sul Ross State at 59. Joe Thomas Sr. moonlighted as a running back for South Carolina State at 55.
All of them, however, had some level of experience. And none of them played in the trenches. Cillo, a lifelong Raiders fan, knew plenty about football but had never buckled a chinstrap in a meaningful way in his life.
If he was going to make a run at this, he would be starting from scratch less than 24 months from the start of his 60s.
Who cares, Bellomo told him. Hearing someone else say out loud what he’d long told himself privately provided the spark Cillo needed.
“It’s time to put regret, not even in the rearview mirror, but time to put it out of sight,” Cillo said. “Rearview mirror means you can still see it. I wanted it out of the picture altogether. It was time. It was now or never.”
Bellomo, who has trained athletes off and on since the 1990s, came up with a plan. Strength wasn’t going to be an issue, not for someone who can pull a firetruck. Conditioning, flexibility and recovery were another matter entirely.
Enter what Bellomo called “’Rocky’-type stuff.”
Sprinting up the massive hill that leads up to Williamsport High School. Then doing it again, only this time while carrying a 100-pound rock. Stretching exercises that would bring Cillo to the brink of tears. Cold immersion. Myofascial Therapy. Saunas.
And that was the easy part.
Cillo needed to apply to Lycoming, a small school of just over 1,000 students, and get accepted. Navigating the sea of paperwork wasn’t exactly easy for someone who hadn’t been in the classroom for 40 years. Throw in the fiscal strain of paying for tuition out of pocket — Cillo is using some of that pension to offset the cost — and it’s a lot.
“I’m taking a risk academically, I’m taking a risk physically, definitely a risk financially,” Cillo said. “I smile a lot, but I’m smiling through the stress.”
‘Pump the brakes, brother’
Lycoming defensive coordinator Steve Wiser, who actually taught Cillo during high school, called Warriors junior defensive lineman Mason Woodward shortly before training camp started, in need of a favor.
Wiser asked Woodward to help out an incoming freshman. When Wiser mentioned, “By the way, Tom is 58,” Woodward thought it was a prank.
Then Cillo incline-pressed 315 pounds nearly a dozen times.
“That’s when I knew it was serious,” Woodward said.
Being strong is one thing. Knowing how to use that strength to play football is something else. For all of the wisdom gleaned from his life experiences, Cillo was a neophyte when it came to Xs and Os.
“It was tough,” Cillo said. “Some days I’d wake up and say, ‘You’ve got to get around.’ And my body would say, ‘Pump the brakes, brother.’”
The brakes might have been pumped, but they were never stopped. Cillo willed his way through two weeks of 12-hour days of practices, meetings, walkthroughs and meals. When the Warriors broke camp, Cillo was one of 117 players remaining on the roster.
“He’s taken some lumps, but he keeps coming back,” coach Mike Clark said. “He keeps learning, keeps working. It’s all part of the process.”
‘He’s got to earn it’
And it is a process. While Cillo understands the uniqueness of his journey, he’s also just another freshman trying to figure out how to balance school and football, albeit with outside responsibilities his teammates may not experience for decades, if at all.
A typical school day begins with a conversation between his mind and his body about who is going to move first. The predawn hours are spent studying — Cillo is majoring in criminal justice for now — and chugging coffee. Then it’s off to campus in his black Chuck Taylors for classes. Sometime in between, he’ll try to sneak in a little treatment for whatever might be hurting on a given day.
While the rest of the Warriors head back to their dorms, Cillo instead checks in on his 90-year-old mother Rita, who is dealing with a host of health issues. Sometimes that means staying the night to keep an eye on her, which often means going without sleep.
The cycle repeats itself the next day. And the next.
It’s a lot to handle at any age, let alone one that’s nudging toward Medicare eligibility. No wonder Cillo considers merely getting to the sideline in uniform every weekend a victory.
“Going through all this stuff, the day-to-day grind, I’ve earned the right to be out there,” he said.
On this point, Cillo is adamant.
Yes, his social media feed is starting to gain some traction. Yes, he’s probably the only college athlete in the country to have an endorsement deal with a pain relief ointment company thanks to rules that allow players to make money off their name, image and likeness (NIL).
And, yes, he’ll lean into a portion of his burgeoning celebrity if it inspires others and maybe helps pay a bill or two along the way.
The last thing Cillo wants out of this is sympathy or preferential treatment in the locker room or on the field. Clark, 54 and in his 18th season at Lycoming, never promised Cillo anything other than an opportunity.
“He’s got to earn it,” said Clark, who described Cillo as an older brother. “He’s trying.”
‘Everyone just loves him’
Sure, the competitor in Cillo wants to be on the field every play. The man who will turn 59 in January learned long ago that life doesn’t work like that. If he never plays in a varsity game, which would make him the oldest non-kicker to ever see action in an NCAA contest, so be it.
He is fully committed to seeing this through as long as his body allows. This is not a stunt for attention. It is not a one-off. There are parts of this just as rewarding as playing time, including the chance to impact his teammates in ways that have nothing to do with the game.
Cillo provides countless rides and will occasionally pick up the tab for a post-practice meal. He’ll give advice when asked, but doesn’t want to overstep. Those acts of service are done not in an effort to buy their friendship, but because it’s what he figured teammates do.
It’s one of the many reasons Cillo is no longer “the old guy” to those who practice alongside him.
“Everyone just loves him,” Woodward said. “It’s like, ’Oh yeah, it’s Tom.’”
Clark, whose only nod to Cillo’s age is letting Cillo call him “Mike” instead of “Coach” when the rest of the team isn’t around, credits Cillo’s presence for helping the Warriors stay focused amid a winless start, intangibles that last year’s group struggled with during a difficult season.
If that’s what eventually becomes Cillo’s legacy at Lycoming, it’s an arrangement he can live with. The rush he felt when assistant coach David Becker told Cillo he was going to start the second half against King’s College only reinforced his desire to keep going. But he’s under no illusion that he’ll be a starter or even a rotational player anytime soon, if ever.
Playing is just part of this experience. So is creating bonds with young men just starting to find their way. Cillo has been where they’re going. He’s well-versed in regret and missed opportunities.
If there’s anything he wants people to take away from this, it’s the message that it’s never too late.
“I know there are people out there just like me, holding themselves back,” he said. “And I want to tell those people, ‘Don’t do it any longer. If you have a dream, if you have a passion, follow through with it.’”
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