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.”

“Now that I’ve got some actual game reps, it’s going to keep building,” Cillo said, the smile emerging from his saltand- 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”?

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.”

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.

“Going through all this stuff, the day-to-day grind, I’ve earned the right to be out there,” he said.

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 oneoff. 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.

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.’” 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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