'Why did his house burn down and not mine?'

Steve Trachsel checked on his kids one more time, and looked out the windows to the east and west.

He couldn't see any fire Monday night. He could sure smell it, but it had been that way for days already in Southern California, so that was no surprise.

Trachsel watched the latest news on TV and went to bed about midnight.

He couldn't have known that a lightning-fast fire would spark and race in from the west, fanned by 70 mph Santa Ana winds carrying embers for miles, and that a raging inferno was headed straight for his front door.

But when the phone rang at 4 a.m., he was out of bed in a flash, knowing exactly what it meant.

"It was the reverse 9-1-1 call. It's how they let you know it's time to evacuate. Actually, it's mandatory," Trachsel said by cell phone Tuesday afternoon from Poway, one of the areas hit hardest by wildfires in Southern California.

"I ran into the kids' room and looked out the back window and the hills were on fire behind Phil Nevin's house.

"I ran to the front of the house and looked out the bathroom window and all the hills behind L.T.'s (LaDainian Tomlinson's) house were on fire, and that's like 500 yards away.

"What do you do? You have 10 minutes. You grab some clothes and the kids' clothes and some toiletries and medication you need for a few days and get the heck out.

"We got outside and you could feel it. It was hot. I don't know how close it was, but they don't sound the alarm unless it's real close."

A short time later, the fire raced through Trachsel's neighborhood, claiming the home of former major-leaguer David Justice but sparing the Trachsel residence.

"Why did his house burn and not mine?" Trachsel asked. "The neighbor behind me lost his. On the next street four or five are gone, but we dodged it somehow."

Trachsel clicked over to a call from Nevin and returned to say he was headed home.

"Phil (Nevin) went through (the neighborhood) last night and said my house is OK. His house is OK, but he said everything is gone up to the house," Trachsel said. "Same thing at Trevor Hoffman's house. Everything else is burned and blown away. There's no vegetation left anywhere.

"Phil said it looks like Mars. Whatever wasn't nailed down is gone."

Those in the middle of it sound remarkably calm, having been through it before and knowing that even a few feet of separation is all it takes.

"We were evacuated, but it's not like the fire was coming up the driveway,'' said sports agent Barry Axelrod, whose stable includes Nevin. "It was still a good five or six miles away."

"It can be that way,"Trachsel said. "Even 100 feet can be like miles if there's no brush and the wind isn't bad."

Axelrod's home and office is 25 miles north of San Diego in Encinitas, which is on the Pacific Ocean about 10 miles West of Poway -- where Trachsel resides -- and about four miles north of Del Mar, which also evacuated.

"I think with us it was a case of them worrying that we had only one escape route with all the streets blocked, and if everyone waited until the last minute it could have been bad," said Axelrod, a veteran of the brush fires.

"Certain sections are more at risk where the brush runs up against the residential areas, but where we are we're not anticipating a problem.

"This was just the perfect storm. Five years of drought with 90 degree temperatures and hurricane-force winds, planes unable to work through the wind and smoke, and firefighting resources stretched thin. Pretty bad situation.

"We've been lucky so far, but the air quality is just brutal. It feels like you're breathing in pure smoke, your throat hurts, and when you blow your nose it's like cleaning a chimney. It's hard to talk.

"You can understand why the schools are closed all week in the whole county."

Axelrod has been through plenty of fires but never actually forced to leave his home before this one.

"We were ready. We loaded up both cars and jammed them full as much as we could,'' Axelrod said. "Where do you start? You get the kids, the pets, some pictures and whatever medicine you take.

"I went to the office and got some files and memorabilia. Not much room for anything."'

What would you take?

If you were told there was a 50-50 chance your house -- or office -- would burn down tonight or tomorrow and you had 10 minutes to leave, what would you throw in your car?

Interesting question if you're not actually faced with answering it.

And as you ponder it, knowing such a dilemma is 2,000 miles away, it sure makes the upcoming Chicago winter sound a whole lot warmer.