I lucked out. ... I was placed at the Waialua table at the OIA Foundation event honoring Keith Amemiya the other night. I tell everyone their school is among my favorites. With the Bulldogs, I really mean it.

Waialua generates tough but cheerful people, folks who make the most out of meager resources. The so-called experts said this small school between Wahiawa and Kahuku was supposed to shut down years ago. It never did.

The sugar industry on which the area depended died. But Waialua's spirit lived on, and so does the school.

This translates onto the playing fields, where the Bulldogs are, well, bulldogs. They are tenacious; they never say die.

In addition to Waialua's athletes being generally small in stature, its teams are traditionally small in numbers. Many great athletes have come out of Waialua over the decades, but the teams are almost always underdogs.

The athletic director is Sharon Yoshimura. When she wasn't busy running around helping to keep the nearly 1,000-attendee event organized, she took a minute to talk about why so many people love and respect the honoree, Amemiya.

She and I agreed that much of the outgoing Hawaii high school sports chief's success stemmed from his empathy for underdogs — the Waialuas, the Molokais, the Hawaii Baptist Academies and the Kalanis and Pahoas.

Everybody knows about how Amemiya finally brought classification to Hawaii high school sports. And true state football championships. And money to keep public school sports going despite massive budget cuts.

But the man has a personal touch, too. Especially for the small schools, the have-nots.

“;You know, he called to congratulate us when we won the OIA White in soccer,”; Yoshimura said. “;Not even a state event. He took time out of his busy schedule to do that.

“;I think it comes from the heart. My mom always said, 'It's something you can't teach, it's within you.'”;

You know why? He was an underdog himself.

People assume Amemiya was a child of privilege, because he went to Punahou, became a lawyer and is well connected. But growing up, Amemiya wasn't a rich kid. And he was never the athlete that his best friend, Chris Kobayashi, was ... nor was he as “;cool”; as Chris, he said. (Example: On their first date, Keith told his wife, Bonny, that he would grow on her, “;like fungus.”;)

But Amemiya plugged away and found his niche — actually, created one. His athletic background was, to be kind, limited, when he applied 12 years ago to become the Hawaii High School Athletic Association's executive director.

Skeptics abounded. Now he's the toast of the town.

When he took the job, some thought he was the kind of guy who would just take care of his friends. As it turns out, that's exactly what he is — but it turns out everyone in the state is his friend, especially the little guys and the little schools.

As Mayor Mufi Hannemann said, with Amemiya, “;No school is left behind, no team is left behind.”;

I asked Amemiya his secret to maintaining humility when everyone is telling him how great he is.

“;I'm surrounded by successful people who are humble themselves,”; Amemiya said.

The public school athletic directors and coaches and principals gave the lawyer from Punahou two standing ovations.

My friends at the Waialua table smiled and clapped the loudest. They know a bulldog when they see one.

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Reach Star-Bulletin sports columnist Dave Reardon at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address), his “;Quick Reads”; blog at starbulletin.com, and twitter.com/davereardon.