A Brush With Small Town Greatness

Scott Schultz of Hysham.

Related to the full moon, her text message said, “Moonlight is magical and brings you either luck or insanity.”

As a photographer, it’s a bit uncanny how the faces of these players stay with you through the years. You might not notice them when you’re walking down a street in any given town, but when you’re back in their small home towns—where they played football—it’s not unreasonable to think that you might bump into them… say, eight years later.

I was carrying on with my invisible act as I often do when I’m in public places and I don’t really know anyone. I hesitated about it, but before leaving Hysham, Montana, after the game, I decided to have a cold beer at one of the local watering holes. I sat at an empty high table—the kind fitted with the high chairs/stools—minding my own business and watching the interaction of the locals unfold. Several young men gravitated to my table but were facing toward the bar across from me. The next thing I knew, more gathered around which included sitting on my side of the table next to me. Suddenly, it appeared as if I was one of the gang.

The young man that sat next to me became recognizable almost right away thanks to friends calling out to him as “Scotty” and “Schultzy.”

I took a hard look and knew it was Scott Schultz, the great Hysham fullback and linebacker that lead the Pirates to a playoff appearance in 2004. They were a gutsy eight-man team with only 12 players and still managed to fight their way into the playoffs that year. After easily defeating Scobey in the first round, Schultz and his teammates gave perennial favorite Centerville the biggest scare in the quarterfinals, dominating the entire first half before succumbing to exhaustion and injuries (Schultz included) in the second half. It was a controversial game as well with questionable calls by the officials while fans from both sides became irate with one another. Had the Hysham team stayed healthy, they surely would have seen another playoff game the following week.

Earlier in the evening on my way to the six-man game between Hysham and Westby-Grenora, one of the ticket-takers shared with me how many of the kids that graduated from Hysham over the years headed for the good-paying jobs in the Bakken oil field rather than college—Schultz was one of them, she had said.

Looking down from Hysham Hill.

Nearly finished with my beer, my invisible guard must have broke down as Schultz turned to me and asked where I was from. Like most of the crowd, I detected in his face that he probably already had a couple of drinks and so, I contemplated if it really mattered where I was from. I told him Powell, Wyoming and that I was just heading home. He followed up thoughtfully with, “That’s not too far to go.”

Knowing the conversation wouldn’t last much longer, I said, “You were number 32, weren’t you?” He seemed puzzled, but after clarifying that I spoke of his football number, he confirmed it was his jersey number. I then told him I’d seen him play in Ekalaka, Terry and Centerville. One of the guys across the table overheard me and said something akin to, “He must be stalking you Scotty.”

I handed Schultz one of my cards for good measure.

Referring to the Centerville game, Scott said, “We don’t talk about that game around here.”

Feeling like one of Clint Eastwood’s senior citizen characters I simply said, “You guys were one hell of a team,” as I rose from my chair. I patted him on the shoulder as I walked past and said, “Take care of yourself.” I placed the empty beer bottle on the bar and walked out.

I smiled all the way out the door and later laughed as I was driving out of town heading toward the interstate but, I’m unsure why. Perhaps it was just dumb luck in meeting up with one of these players from so long ago. Or maybe it was knowing that he might have sat there for a minute after I left—considering his own sanity—thinking in a somewhat inebriated state, “What the hell was that all about?”

Whatever it was, whatever had just happened it made me smile with an overwhelming sense of happiness. I knew it was magical, and there was the full moon above to remind me.

Small Town Showdowns

Defending state champs Hysham at West Yellowstone.

While walking around before the game, I overheard someone say that this was considered the "game of the week" by six-man nation.com. It seemed reasonable even if it was the third week of the season. I considered the declaration a bit premature regarding the Montana Class C six-man game between the West Yellowstone Wolverines and the visiting Pirates (and defending state champions) of Hysham. Nevertheless, West Yellowstone had clearly captured the attention of many Montana, Idaho and Wyoming small-town football followers in the first two weeks of the season—defeating perennial six-man powerhouses Highwood and Custer-Melstone. People like me questioned West Yellowstone after the Wolverines defeated Highwood in the first week. "Maybe Highwood is simply down this year," I said to myself. But after defeating Custer-Melstone convincingly, all of us probably started to wonder: What are the chances of two strong teams being down in the same year?

And Hysham? They only lost one starter to graduation (Kyle Strickland) from last year's championship team, so it seems safe to say they are a given power in any Montana Class C six-man mathematical formula.

Wolverines at pregame attention.

When West Yellowstone took the field, I was surprised in their numbers and size—reminiscent of last year's Augusta team. And like last year, when Hysham's modestly sized "dirty dozen" finally appeared from the locker room, I'm sure few West Yellowstone fans were afraid for the home team. But this time I wasn't going to be fooled. If I were betting, my money was riding on the Pirates.

Hysham did come out on top, 34-27, despite the lightning-delay and greasy field conditions from the day's precipitation—surely it toned down their notorious speed a notch or two. They dodged a bullet to be sure. Following the game, a friend said to me, "I imagine many teams will be placing an asterisk or two next to West Yellowstone's name on their schedules."

And let me be clear, it was a very, very good game!

Perhaps the Pirates won't look back on the contest and consider it one of their best days given the fact that at least two West Yellowstone turnovers were squandered and a couple of key passes were dropped. Yet, they did what a true champion often does—they found a way to win even if it wasn't pretty or convincing.

I'm unsure how West Yellowstone will look back on their setback. If nothing else, their coach may have said it best after the game, "We just scared the shit out of last year's state champs." Perhaps they did. Even so, the Wolverines certainly proved they can be just as scrappy as Hysham. Down by three touchdowns in the third quarter, they came back in the final quarter within 7 points and recovered a textbook onside kick in the final minute that, if they had capitalized, could have made it a one-point game or perhaps even won the contest if they converted the PAT. However, Hysham's scrappy character shined through as well, holding the Wolverines when it counted. Just too many "if"s in that earlier sentence.

Some probably walked away from the game thinking this year's state title will be a rematch between Hysham and West Yellowstone. I won't be surprised if that's the case, but I suspect the current unknowns of Lambert, Bridger, Geraldine, and Roberts would also like to make a statement or two about who gets to play on that last weekend. And I'm not ready to count out several others after only three weeks of play including Highwood, Augusta or Meeteetse.

Wolverine fans.

One last thing—maybe this is a "heads up" to the good folks at West Yellowstone. Two years ago I attended an early season game at Roberts when the Rockets hosted the (then) defending state champs from Highwood. The Mountaineers of Highwood squeaked out a 36-32 victory—thanks in part to three Roberts touchdowns that were called back for penalties. Afterwards, I felt sure that if they met again in the playoffs, Roberts would prevail. As it turned out, they did end up meeting in the title game only Highwood won the contest convincingly, 48-12. So much for crystal balls and six-man football.

Postscript: After the game, while the two teams were having a final huddle on the field, fans from West Yellowstone formed two lines that funneled towards the locker room. I saw it as a final tribute to their team and their extraordinary effort on the day. However, Hysham started towards the locker room before West Yellowstone and I thought to myself, "This could get ugly" as Hysham approached the reception of Wolverine fans. Thankfully, in true small-town fashion, I didn't hear one negative comment—just a lot of "Good game Pirates" followed by the polite response coming from the Hysham players, "Thank you."


BTW: I went to six-man nation.com's web site and didn't find anything about yesterday's game—just a bunch of very dated stories and information.

Hysham's Magic

The Pirates of Hysham make their way through town on the
way to their home gridiron for the six-man title game.

If I were a betting man, I would have wagered $100 on Augusta defeating Hysham in the six-man title game. Good thing I don't bet. I'm still trying to determine how Hysham won it? I was there, but I'm having a hard time putting my finger on how the Pirates did it so convincingly.

Good coaching? Sure, but Augusta's Coach Barrett is no slouch.

Speed? I'd say so, but it wasn't obvious, was it?

Good discipline and execution? Yes. At least I was conscience of that a couple times—once while running back Matt Icopini waited patiently for a trap to develop on the sparsely populated, six-man line of scrimmage. It payed off as he raced 54 yards for the touchdown.

Tough? Oh yes. They have to be, but who isn't when they make it to the title game?

Pirate magic? Sure, it makes as much sense as anything.

And here's the kicker... They won the Montana Class C six-man title with only one senior on their 13-man roster and never lost a game all year.

***
At five-foot, seven-inches (at best), I'm a believer in that old expression "dynamite comes in small packages." But, when Hysham started walking down Main Street on their way to the gridiron, I was thinking to myself, "Is that it? Are there some other players coming out later... like, the varsity?"

In the game program, Hysham's #20, Tait Hollowell was listed at 185 pounds—soaking wet maybe. Programs don't lie, do they?

I'd seen Augusta at North Star several weeks earlier and I was impressed by their size and athleticism. However, they had lost to Highwood during the regular season, but Highwood lost to Hysham twice—once at home and another time at Hysham in the playoffs. So, when the Pirates appeared, I assumed that the Elks must have had a really bad day with Highwood or some key players didn't make the game that day.

As Augusta waited to receive the opening kick-off, I watched the Pirates' small-framed, kick-off team run out on the field as I prepared myself for the Augusta return man to take it back all the way. It didn't happen and what was even more surprising, it never happened.

The entire game was a reminder of last year's eight-man title game at Centerville. When the Miners came out on the field and I saw their great numbers, but relatively small size, I calculated Wibaux was going to win by four touchdowns... easy. I was wrong then, and wrong again this time at Hysham.

But, you know, I don't mind being wrong. It's good for the soul as long as one is willing to admit it.

***
Not only was the Hysham-Augusta match-up a great small town high school football game, it was also a great day for all the wonderful attributes of such settings—most of them people related.

First there was A'lona, one of the Hysham moms who assisted decorating the highway approaching the town. She has a daughter attending the high school, but you would have thought she had a son starting at quarterback too. I met up with her again at halftime when I heard the championship game shirt sales were going fast. I walked over to the table where she was working with only four bucks in my pocket. Strapped for cash and no ATM in sight, I promised her a CD of images from the game and my remaining dollar bills in exchange for a shirt. The CD is in the mail A'lona!

Than there was Paul and Frank, the two elder corn farmers at the Chuckwagon Café (open 6 a.m. to 3 p.m.) that have probably never heard of the word "retirement." They weren't attending the game because they had a test plot just outside of town to work, but had plenty of time to chat with us over coffee and breakfast. When they walked in and found no available tables, they took up my offer to join Slim and I at our table for four.

During the game I became acutely aware regarding how many times the opposing team players helped their opponent up after a tackle. I know it's a common thing, but it seemed uncommonly prolific in the contest—text book good sportsmanship. Funny, I don't think I have an image anywhere in my work that includes this friendly scenario. And just like that, I have a new assignment for next season already.

The magic of small town high school football appeared to follow us to the big city of Billings. We decided to get a cup of coffee at the City Brew coffee house before driving the last darkened, 90 minutes of our trip home that is illuminated only by headlights with the exception of a few streetlights when driving through Fromberg and Bridger. Tired from our big day in Hysham, an elderly man named Robert walked over to our table and initiated a conversation about hair styles for older men that led to other topics. As it turned out, Robert was a retired history professor who earned a doctorate from Columbia University a long time ago and flew as a B-24 Liberator bombardier during the late stages of World War II. As colourful as his stories were given his age of 82 years, he was excited to hear of our day at Hysham and told us how he would love to see a six-man football game someday. We exchanged contact information and promised to include him in a six-man game next season.

It was a day of magic.

Fair Enough?

Custer at Geraldine title game... look at that scoreboard.

It might not seem fair to those from Custer-Melstone if the Hysham Pirates win the six-man title this coming Saturday. After being a contender for so many years and just falling short of the title in their 2003 overtime loss to Geraldine, I always thought that if any team from the south were to wrestle the title away from the northern tier it would be Custer-Melstone.

But, it's no longer just north and south. As more teams have joined the six-man ranks (Hysham included), we've a full class of north, south, east and west. Surely Hysham would have been in the southern conference back in the early part of this decade, but they are actually an eastern team in the current re-alignment.

Further, having already knocked off northern favorites Highwood (twice) and Geraldine this season, who is more deserving of the state six-man title this year than Hysham; especially if they defeat the remaining powerhouse from the north, Augusta, in the championship game? That seems fair enough.

Not fair enough for the Elks from Augusta who have paid their dues when they appeared in the title game two years ago.

So much for fairness.