Big Game Small Town Magic

Postgame of Tongue River at Wind River.

In chasing down the big games of small town high school football, I'm always amazed at how it can grab you and sweep you up despite the high gasoline prices. Compounding that, I've had a couple of e-mails recently reminding me of the big games that I should consider attending this coming weekend—Twin Bridges at Sheridan and Hysham at Lambert are two such big small-town games that have been brought to my attention.

Sadly, I'm off to Chicago for a conference that has nothing to do with small town football or photography and won't return until sometime Saturday afternoon, after all the games have passed.

It is at times like this when I need to remind myself (as in this writing) that small town high school football is more than just the "big games." In the spirit of Woody Guthrie's This Land Is Your Land, Small town high school football is also the jovial hamburger crew at Drummond working the outdoor grill. It's the rag-tag assembly of musicians—students and locals—that make up the band in Stanford even if they never march. It's the announcer at Rosebud who only has a bullhorn. It's four referees instead of five. It's the grade school kids playing on the hillside at Harlowton, Noxon or Hays. It's the cars on the hill overlooking the gridiron at Sunburst as they sound their horns and flash their headlights following a Refiner touchdown. And sometimes it's simply gazing up to watch the clouds as they move across the Big Horn Mountains near Dayton during a time out.

Wind River fans.

Last week, I finally made it to Pavillion, Wyoming to attend a Wind River football game. It probably wasn't considered a "big game" regarding it's importance in... say, Wyoming 2A football, but it was big to me. A couple years ago I drove there to watch a game only to find out that it was held the night before (here's the full account of that fiasco). And now, this season, in true small town fashion, the floodlights at Wind River were severely damaged from a big wind storm earlier in the year, forcing a rescheduling of their Friday night games to daylight hours. Who knows when I'd have another opportunity to photograph an afternoon game in Pavillion again?

That was big enough for me.

* * * * *

Since I won't have any particular game to blog about next week, I'll invite/challenge anyone who attends a "big" game (however one defines it) to post their observations below in the comment area. Along with the games mentioned above, Scobey is off to Wibaux, Big Horn is at Wind River in a battle of 2A undefeated teams, Custer-Melstone will play Bridger for the first time while Grass Range is traveling all the way to Meeteetse, Wyoming for a first time showdown as well.

If you go and choose to write about one of these games (or another), tell us what happened, but more importantly, tell us about the small town magic you experienced.

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.

Small Town Football: A Native Game?

Rocky Boy pregame helmet.

It was a question that only 643 miles of driving might be able to answer. Still, I wasn't so sure.

It goes something like this: By and large, schools with a majority of Native American students are typically in the hunt for state basketball titles in any given class during any given year, yet the same is not true under these circumstances when it comes to the game of football. What explains this?

I had hoped the answer would be revealed to me by simply watching an eight-man football game between two small town schools with a majority of Native American students—Hays-Lodgepole and Rocky Boy. If the answer was in the game itself, I was too blind to see it. So, during that eight-man game I posed the question to a few people I met up with.

Rocky Boy at Hays-Lodgepole.

Depending on who you talk to, will depend on the answer you hear. And I've heard my share of different answers coming from Native and non-Native viewpoints—not just this past weekend either, but over the years. One person wondered if basketball was more like a game that was played in the Americas before the White Man came on the scene—thus explaining its popularity. Another person (an educational administrator) explained that organizing/coordinating 11 players was asking too much from a group of Native American students. He explained to me, “They want to win, but they don’t want to put in the time/practice. They have to be so much more talented than other teams to make up for their disorganization.” Many non-Native arm-chair quarterbacks seem to think that Native Americans aren't disciplined enough to attend regular practices and thus execute complicated football plays, which made me wonder how a team could pull off winning a state championship in basketball if they weren't disciplined about attending regular practices.

Allowing for my own arrogance in taking a stab at the question, I'd say Native American kids aren't hostile or militant enough when it comes to football, especially as I watched both Rocky Boy and Hays-Lodgepole warm up before the game—talk about a laid back pre-game. I was reminded of a backyard pickup game rather than a hotly contested rivalry, which admittedly was a bit refreshing. But hell, what are my formal credentials when it comes to the game of football, let alone Native Americans?

One of the assistant coaches at Rocky Boy responded to my query this past weekend, and I think he answered it best—or at least what made sense to me. It has to do with tradition. When it comes to the small town schools on the Indian Reservations, basketball is more established and accepted because it has been around much longer than football. Take Hays-Lodgepole for example, football didn't come on the scene until 1975 while basketball had been established decades earlier. Parents and grandparents played basketball, but not necessarily football. Basketball's long-term existence has resulted in a certain attitude/environment where almost everyone encourages the youth to play because the parents and grandparents played when they were young too.

Lame Deer at Highwood 1999.

Back in 1999, I saw a very competitive Lame Deer team defeat perennial powerhouse Highwood in the six-man quarterfinals—on Highwood’s home field. The following week, they lost their semi-final match to West Yellowstone largely attributed to a key player injury. I've been haunted by that team since—waiting for another Reservation school to match or best the 1999 Morning Stars. I feel certain it is bound to happen in the not-too-distant future—and more frequently—as more of today's young Native American students discover and consider the option of football related to their own specific skills and athletic abilities.

If football truly has gained a toehold in the small schools of America's Reservations, I suspect the Native American players, coaches and teams will develop their own knack and style for the game much like they have in basketball. And with a bit of luck, perhaps we'll see more and more Native American teams vying for conference and state titles in football as well.

I look forward to the day.

Texas... Finally

Sanderson’s football team and cheerleaders take the field.

I've always been somewhat afraid that a Texas football fan would discover my blog and photos and denounce my work because I had never attended a game in Texas. No more... they'll have to find some other flaw if they wish to do so now.

After more than three years of thinking about it, I finally committed myself to visit West Texas and take in their version of small town high school football, aka six-man football. I wish the journey could have come about on someone else's nickel, but dishing out the expenses for a round-trip airfare to El Paso, car rental, 1,100 miles worth of petrol and a couple motels along the way was still worth it. All of this with threatening rains and overcast skies standing by in one of our country's driest and sunniest regions.

Countless alumni of great football universities throw away much more money on any given autumn weekend to see their favorite team in action compared to my modest investment, and they only get to witness one football game.

After spending Friday in Sanderson, Texas for their opener against the Grady Wildcats, I drove over 300 miles in my rented Ford Fusion to attend the Jayton (Texas) Gridiron Classic the next day. The Gridiron Classic consist of four games of six-man football starting at 10:30 in the morning with the last game commencing at 7:30 in the evening.

Think about it... five Texas six-man football games in two days! Did I luck out or what?

Action at the Jayton Gridiron Classic.

My luck can be whittled down to the fact that I chose the first week when these football "marathons" are held in the Lone Star state. As I found out later, there were other locations that same day hosting day-long football events too. Two others I heard about were in Trent and Hico—both featuring six-man games too.

One might be wanting to ask about now, "So, is Texas small town football different than what you've seen in Montana or Wyoming?"

Given the fact that there are over 100 six-man football teams in Texas, it shouldn't come to anyone's surprise that I probably witnessed at least one team that would likely defeat a six-man state champion hailing from Montana or Wyoming. That's simple math.

Yet, I suppose what impressed me the most were the facilities I saw in places like Sanderson and Jayton. In short, it's safe to say that Texas spends more money on high school football than Wyoming or Montana. So much, that even the small town schools don't feel so "small town" when it comes to attending a football game.

Further, as I headed back to El Paso on Sunday, I stopped in several other West Texas towns along the way to view other facilities as well. One town that stood out was Kermit (pop. 5,367). Kermit is about the same size town as Powell—where I live. But Kermit's stadium dwarfs Panther Stadium (here in Powell) and is easily larger than Daylis Stadium in Billings, Montana where the big AA schools of West, Senior and Skyview play.

Grady at Sanderson.

I'm still recovering from the Texas five-game kickoff to the 2008 season—to the extent that I chose to stay home for the first week of games in Wyoming and Montana. With any luck and a little more rest, I should be up for a trip to Victor, Montana next week where the Vikings will be hosting the defending Class C eight-man state champions—the Drummond Trojans.

Earthquakes In Coaching

Mike Nelson lecturing his Mountaineers at Roberts.

At 48-years-young, there's not much news out there that really surprises me anymore. At least that's how it seems.

Nevertheless, when I travelled to Highwood, Montana to photograph their six-man football team during their preseason practice and conditioning drills, I was totally blindsided when Highwood's new head coach Bart Hawkins informed me that Mike Nelson—Highwood's notorious head coach for the past 17 years—had left education as well as coaching.

My first reaction to the news was that of embarrassment because I hadn't heard, and—worst yet—I had mistakingly said "Good morning Coach Nelson" to assistant coach Dan McGee upon my arrival thinking he was Mike Nelson. But when Coach Hawkins informed me that Nelson's resignation had only become known to the public about three weeks ago, I felt a little better. Yet, I was still a bit upset with myself that I hadn't heard about this big story in the world of six-man football before making the 300-mile drive.

And big news it is. Consider Nelson's resume: During his tenure, while teaching mathematics, his teams notched ten Montana state titles—10 state titles, 17 years! No other six-man football coach in the country can make the same claim. His overall record was 133-22 including eight undefeated seasons. I suppose I was lucky to witness one of those rare losses back in 1999.

How could he leave with so much going for him? Even the most successful football coaches feel the everyday pressures that build up if not addressed. According to the Great Falls Tribune, Nelson's departure was a combination of wanting to spend more time with his family, escalating gas prices that made his 60-mile daily commute from Great Falls prohibitive and a new job offer that came along at the right time.

It's all good in the end. A new coach (Hawkins) gets to step up to the plate and show the world what he can do as well. And so a new chapter begins at Highwood High School.

Oh, and what's the new job for Mike Nelson you might be wondering? He's going to become a pharmaceutical salesman for an international healthcare company... Talk about a total change of direction.

Well, he's only 40-years-old and who knows, the coaching itch might need scratching again someday so, I'm not writing him off completely. Regardless I wish him the best of luck—however he may define it.

Postscript: As of the 2011 football season, Mike Nelson is now the skipper of Great Falls Central Catholic—a member of Montana Class C Eight-Man's Northern Conference.

The Season Cometh

The forest fires of August paint the sky in Powell, Wyoming.

Football season... it's nearly here.

I'm looking forward to visiting a few new small town football venues including Sanderson, Texas where the Eagles have maintained a pretty high profile when it comes to competitive six-man teams in the Lone Star state. After ten-plus years of small town high school football in Wyoming and Montana, I reckoned it was time to see the Texas version. This will be a personal record... over $400 (airfare to El Paso and car rental thus far) to watch one high school football game—not even a playoff or title match.

Why Sanderson? I'm hoping the setting of this little West Texas town will provide the backdrop that I've grown accustomed to in Wyoming and Montana. Besides, how credible can this body of work be if I've never seen a game in Texas... especially a six-man contest?

Then there is Victor, Montana—home of the Pirates competing in the Western C eight-man conference. I'm hoping to attend one of their two home games as well. Not a short drive in the context of 2008 gas prices. And I thought Sunburst was a long and expensive drive last year...

A little farther down my list are games at Culbertson-Bainville, Medicine Lake-Froid, and Lincoln in Montana. In Wyoming, there is Wind River in Pavillion—that place has been calling for years.

Kansas Small Town Football

Arthur, Nebraska locker room entrance.

Here is a nice little slideshow from last season produced by the New York Times about Smith Center, Kansas (pop. 1,931) and its successful high school football program.

This image is from a six-man game I attended in Arthur, Nebraska (pop. 145) a few years back.

Football Greatness: A search for its source

Approaching Geraldine, Montana from the Highwood Mountains.

Just past the urban landscape of Great Falls, are the Highwood Mountains—a small outcropping and detached portion of the Northern Rockies and a mecca of sorts when it comes to six-man football in Montana. These mountains serve as the "backyard" to the two small towns of Geraldine and Highwood where 18 of the past 20 six-man titles games have included one or both of these two schools—often resulting as champion and runner-up in the same year.

In all of Montana, the fourth largest state in the U.S., these two communities are both located in Choteau County with only 30 miles separating them. However, most fans (and team busses) traveling between the two towns for the annual rivalry, drive a longer and smoother route because the shorter 30 miles connecting Geraldine and Highwood is an obscure and rugged dirt road—over and through the Highwood Mountains.

Highwood (pop. 189) is tucked away and hidden within the folding landscape of foothills and coulees—you never see it until you're practically there! The climb into the mountains from Highwood is almost immediate. A sense of refuge and wonderment surges the further one climbs. Descending from the other side, Geraldine (pop. 284) resides on the exposed and tapering prairie of wheat fields adjacent to the steeper slopes and is easily visible for miles as one approaches.

On Thanksgiving Day in 2002 after Highwood defeated Geraldine in the title game, I decided to travel the dirt road connecting these two towns to see if there was some magical or secret connection between the mountains and these two highly successful football programs.

As I drove along the higher elevations of the old road, I found myself looking at the trees carefully, taking note of the sky's colour and listening to bird songs—hoping to detect something different in these elements that might somehow explain why the kids from Choteau County excel in six-man football. I even considered taking a sip of the water from a nearby stream expecting it to somehow taste different than any other water. Gazing over the alpine landscape, I looked closely at several of the meadows thinking that I might discover the markings of a secretive, summer gridiron—a hidden retreat that would allow the two teams to start practice in July rather than August, and without the punishing heat associated with mid-summer temperatures found elsewhere in the state.

I imagined, but found no evidence of the teams riding in a school bus with an entourage of pick-up trucks in tow as they cross the mountain along the dirt road and arrive at some selected spot for a preseason scrimmage in one of the cool mountain meadows.

Yes, that would explain everything, wouldn't it?

Wyoming could learn from Montana: Part 2

The Meeteetse Longhorns on the road in Montana.

I suppose someone has to shout out, "The king has no clothes."

So, in other words, Wyoming has too many classes of football given the few numbers of schools that participate. Count them up: Approximately 57 Wyoming teams participate in five different classes of football—that's a dozen (or less) schools competing for a state title in any one class! Need I mention this only constitutes a big-conference championship in most other states? It's rather laughable to hear of a Wyoming high school tout itself as state champs when they are only the best team in a field of no more than twelve teams. Too bad they can't travel down to Colorado after being crowned "state champs" in Wyoming to compete against the best of their class there.

Nevertheless, a few exceptions come to mind when pondering the watered-down state football titles in Wyoming.

The Cokeville Panthers won the Wyoming 1A title in 2001—the states smallest class of football. However, during the regular season, they also defeated the eventual 3A champions—Big Piney on the Puncher's home field. Surely that was a team deserving of a state title. Unless I'm mistaken, their 2001 schedule also included victories over a couple 2A schools as well.

Another argument against Wyoming's over-saturated classes of football concerns the playoff pairings at the end of the year. Not only do mediocre teams (with losing records) advance to the playoffs, but such dismal numbers in each class result in more rematches when the playoffs finally roll around—it's not uncommon for two schools that faced-off during the regular season to play again in the post-season—the title game included.

This past year, after losing its final game (at home) to Buffalo decisively, Powell High School (and its forlorn 3-5 record) went on the following week to play Buffalo again in the first round of the playoffs—in Buffalo where they lost just as decisively—talk about a waste of gasoline.

In 2004, two of the five championship games in Wyoming were rematches from the regular season. No doubt rematches were seen at the playoff level that year as well. My point here is that every effort should be made to beef up the numbers in each class (if possible) insuring the playoff brackets will be "fresh" in match-ups.

Contrast that to many of Montana's playoff games where the deeper the playoffs go, the more likely the two opposing teams have not seen each other in years—sometimes never, certainly not during the regular season. Rare is the case when two teams that played during the regular season face off again in a playoff game. Such scenarios are an oddity—a hiccup—not the norm. (The only exception to this argument is Class AA—Montana's largest class—which fields only 14 teams.)

At last count, Montana has 150 teams (made up from 176 schools—some teams are co-ops) playing in five classes of football broken down into the following: Class AA-11 (players): 14 teams, Class A-11: 24 teams, Class B-11: 41 teams, Class C-8: 45 teams, Class C-6: 26 teams. That works out to an average of 30 teams per class.

Because they are eight-man and six-man play, these last two classes (Class C) are the key ingredients that set football in Montana apart (and above) from Wyoming's offering of the game—where all classes are eleven-man. Bluntly stated: small towns and eleven-man football don't make for an ideal marriage. Here's why...

When I attended a Wyoming 1A class game back in 2003 between Hulett and Ten Sleep. The two teams fielded less than 30 players—combined! I believe Ten Sleep never had more than two players on the bench during the game. These kind of conditions lead to a game of lesser quality—a product of smaller, underclassmen players starting in a game they typically have no business playing while the better part of their activity on the field is running around and staying out of the way of the larger and older players. In the end what you have is basically an eight-man or six-man game anyway with a handful of inert players on the same field. That being the case, why not play the actual game that is more representative and spare the unnecessary injuries incurred by any smaller/underclassmen players on the field?

Not long after that game in Hulett, Ten Sleep and another Wyoming school (Meeteetse) apparently had enough of barely fielding eleven-man teams year after year only to be thumped each week (expect when they played each other) and jumped to Montana's six-man football class. I suspect both teams have to drive a bit farther for away games, but I'm sure it is worth it now.

* * *

I don't offer any definitive ideas on improving high school football in Wyoming, but I do believe adhering to Friday nights and Saturday afternoons for all games is a step in the right direction. Following that, I suspect formulating a new classification system that has fewer classes would be best. Perhaps a three-class system where the existing 5A and 4A teams are consolidated into one group (Class A) while the 3A and 2A teams compete at the next level of eleven-man play (Class B). Those 1A schools that wish to stay as eleven-man can join Class B as the remaining schools would join the new programs from other small schools making up Wyoming's new six-man league (Class C). Assuming most of Wyoming's existing teams stay at eleven-man play, that would boost the average of the 11-man classes to 23 teams per class and thus providing a sense of respect to any team crowned "state champ" in Wyoming.

You might be asking about now, "Why six-man instead of eight-man?" Although I'm not as passionate about this proposal, I believe it would be the best for those schools that haven't had football programs to start or restart in six-man play and thus create greater opportunities at the small-school level for student participation and, at the same time, provide another worthy local event for Wyoming's rural communities to rally around.

The good news is that discussions are already underway at the Wyoming High School Activities Association (WHSAA) as they consider the idea of starting a sub-eleven-man football conference—undoubtedly inspired by Meeteetse and Ten Sleep. As of this writing, I've learned that a six-man conference is the likely choice. The WHSAA is requiring at least eight committed schools if they are to proceed with this league that would commence in the 2009 season. Let's hope this materializes.

So, what is required of a school destined to support a six-man football team? In a word, numbers. Typically, the schools in Montana that have healthy six-man football programs are endowed with enrollments numbers (grades 9-12) around 40—Rosebud (25) and North Star (83) are the extremes. According to a couple sources, schools such as Kaycee, Chugwater, Little Snake River (Baggs), Rock River, Encampment, Farson-Eden, and Arvada-Clearmont are prime candidates while Ten Sleep and Meeteetse are givens. That's nine possible teams already and surely there are a few others out there that are looking or perhaps one or two of the existing 1A teams are considering the change as well.

Now, if we could only get the school at Jeffrey City to reopen as well...

Perhaps the most significant obstacle in creating this new class will be the entrenched negative outlook that seems to prevail on less-than-eleven-man-play throughout Wyoming. I suppose there are a number of reasons why it lingers—eleven-man football is what the pros and college teams play and is therefore as formidable as any argument needed. Nevertheless, just because a game uses eight or six players to make a football team does not make it inferior—ask any of those schools or communities in Montana who have moved down from eleven-man to eight-man or from eight-man to six-man.

I remember hearing years ago about the dwindling enrollments at Hysham, Montana and the community's reluctance to step down to six-man from eight-man. I suppose the success they experienced at the eight-man level countered the thought of playing six-man. In 2004, Hysham made it to the eight-man quarterfinals with a 12-man roster before bowing out—the result of injuries to key players. As it turned out, that quarterfinal loss was telling about the importance of depth in a football team. Knowing their numbers were predicted to stay down, the Hysham community felt it was in the school's best interest to play six-man football thereafter. After only two years and a school enrollment of 36 (9-12), they won the six-man state title in a field of 26 teams. When I attended the title game in Hysham, I didn't detect any signs of a longing for the old days of eight-man football.

Over the last ten years I've driven all over Wyoming and Montana in search of small town high school football. And each time I pass through Farson on my way to Cokeville, Big Piney or Pinedale, I always think to myself that it's a shame they can't have their own football games. So, imagine my excitement in contemplating the idea of attending a football game in such new and remote locations as Farson... or Baggs... or Chugwater... or Kaycee... or Encampment.

Wyoming six-man football... build it and they will play.

Wyoming could learn from Montana: Part 1

Sheridan at Sunburst in a Montana eight-man playoff game.

With the exception of walking over to my nearby Powell Panther football games on a couple of Friday nights, this past football season found me documenting small town high school football exclusively in Montana. It wasn't on purpose, it just turned out that way.

Or maybe it was on purpose.

In 2006, I attended only one Wyoming football game and the years before that, just a couple during any one season. Only in 2001 did I attend games exclusively in Wyoming.

Looking back on this record, I can only surmise that the reason I've attended more Montana high school games than those in Wyoming is because Montana's games are simply better.

There, I said it. I reckon this guarantees me a last-place finish for any popularity contests in the Cowboy State (where I reside). Regardless, I hope no one will take it personally, but rather think of it as only a critique that might be taken into consideration when the powers that be think about improving the game of football in Wyoming's high schools.

And, before you go and totally dismiss my opinion, give me some credit for having attended a fair share of games in both states—not just some ridiculous conclusions based on a few visits.

Of course, I can't just stop here without defending my opinion, so I'll explain my rationale.

Montana high school football is better than Wyoming high school football; Part 1

All Montana games are played either on Friday night or Saturday afternoon—regardless of class. The only exception comes during the last week of the regular season (the beginning of the hunting season?) when many games are played on Wednesday because there is no school on Thursday and Friday.

The point I want to make here is that many Montana games are played Saturday afternoon—for those smaller schools and communities that don't have floodlights. Given any Saturday during the football season, there are typically over 20 games scheduled in Montana.

On the other hand, many schools in Wyoming without lights play on Friday afternoon. And a few schools even play Thursday afternoons or Thursday nights because they don't have classes on Fridays! As far as high school football goes, that's practically sacrilege in my opinion. If a school doesn't have classes on Friday, that's no reason to move its home games to Thursday afternoon or evening. Most everyone outside of the school still has another weekday of work (Friday) and who wants to go to a high school football game on a Thursday night and still expect to find the same "magic" in the air as a Friday night game? Of course having a game on Thursday afternoon is even more offensive and moving them to Friday afternoon is no better.

So why are so few (if any) Wyoming high schools playing on Saturday afternoons—referring to those schools that don't possess floodlights? Some have speculated that doing so would be interpreted as a disloyal act directed toward the University of Wyoming and its Saturday afternoon games in Laramie. If true, I find it incredible that attendance at a UW football game would suffer if communities like Burlington have their football games on Saturday afternoons as well. What of all of the Saturday high school games in Montana that are held when there are up to six Montana colleges hosting Saturday games including the University of Montana and Montana State University? Further, Montana's five high school championship games are typically played the same afternoon as the annual Cat and Griz (U of M and MSU) face-off!

From my vantage point, it doesn't seem to be very community-friendly when games are scheduled at anytime on Thursdays or a Friday afternoon. This would seem to be especially poignant in the smaller communities. The only people that are likely to get off work (in the case of weekday afternoon games) are family members of the players and members of the school community. Scheduling compromises such as this will surely be the demise of high school football just like churches would find dwindling membership if they suddenly started holding services on Saturday instead of Sunday mornings. And in a state that has the lowest population in the country, adhering to conventional Friday night football (or Saturday afternoons) is paramount.

As big a fan as I am, it's nearly impossible for me to travel to Wind River High School (located in in Pavillion, Wyoming, only a 3-hour drive) for a Thursday afternoon or evening game unless I make some major adjustments to my work schedule. However, I can easily make it to Rudyard, Montana (about an 8 hour drive up on the Hi-Line) for any Saturday afternoon game.

I wonder now if these scheduling cacophonies in Wyoming high school football have retarded attendance in the smaller towns already? Surely the game's allur has lost its luster, and if continued, might such alternate scheduling be the beginning of the end for the future of small town high school football in Wyoming?

Next up, Part 2 in the argument for Montana's superior high school football program.

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.

2-4-3

Wibaux at Drummond 2004 Playoffs.

I'm not going to Wibaux this year for the trilogy; that is, the rematch with Drummond in the semi-finals.

All week long I've been telling people and myself that I'm just too tired from last week's trip to Sunburst, and its 900-plus-miles of driving. That excuse is probably good enough.

But, laying in bed this morning, I started thinking about the game. In fact, I even felt this tug that said, "Get up early Saturday morning anyway, and just go to Wibaux. Go on."

I tried to picture what I'd photograph once I arrived. I was rolling around in my mind what could be visually different than last year's blockbuster at Wibaux. I could see myself up on the hill—not the sidelines—by the statue of Pierre Wibaux watching from a distance. Like a little kid at a horror movie for the first time watching with my eyes half covered by my hands and wincing the entire time.

Wibaux and Drummond are two great football programs—traditions some might say. Who could argue the claim? I think of them as iconic in their own unique style.

I saw the first match-up at Drummond in 2004 where, what seemed to be, an over-confident Wibaux team walked off the bus to the gridiron like Roman soldiers about to capture another unsuspecting, miniscule chunk of distant land. Drummond was a machine, but even with one state title under their belt from the previous year, there was a feeling that many folks around the state believed they still hadn't been truly tested—that is the Wibaux test. We know what happened that day.

Then last year, I watched the same two teams who clearly held mutual respect for one another battle it out again in Wibaux. Many expressed that Drummond wasn't as invincible as previous years, but still had a long string of consecutive victories on their resume. Wibaux only had a score to settle.

I suppose it's safe to say that both Wibaux and Drummond know how unbearably long the bus drive is between the two opposing towns, especially after the game has concluded.

On one hand I hate to see Drummond make that same drive home from Wibaux as they did last year, but I know Wibaux duplicated the same drive a week later after their state title loss in overtime at Centerville. I know, it's all part of the game.

On the other hand, Wibaux has been teased enough since their last title in 2001. You'd think they'd never won one at all—reminiscent of the Cubs in baseball. Yet, they're due because they keep coming back year after year no matter who graduates.

As a neutral observer for most of the games I attend, I neither drive away from any gridiron feeling elated or dejected regarding the game's outcome. My formula for elation and dejection is related to whatever images I come away with that day; multiplied by the mileage. Yet, there are those teams like Drummond and Wibaux that I've seen play enough times that it's difficult to not wish them the best. And when they play each other in their little corners of Montana, it's always bittersweet, emotionally draining... simply exhausting.

I'm going to regret not going—I just know it.

Absarokee Euphoria

Stanford at Absarokee

Another beautiful autumn day in Montana and another superb example of small town high school football—this time in Absarokee.

I queried the people at the gate about how I would go about getting up on top of the foothills nearby that overlooked the gridiron. One of the Absarokee coaches informed me about the property owners that I would have to speak with first. Right there on the sidelines, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called someone who knew the landowner's home number—Chris. Then, he called Chris directly for me. "Absolutely," came the answer from the other end of the connection.

I walked up the long driveway from the highway. Chris' 83-year-old father, Grant, was waiting for me near the house and offered me a ride on the ATV to the bottom of the foothills where the bridge crossed the Rosebud River.

With a least four cameras in my possession, I never thought to photograph Grant sitting on the ATV or standing on the bridge that passed over the river—a true Homer Simpson moment on my part. Nevertheless, we chatted all the way to the bridge as I held on, my legs dangling over the side of the ATV. Four deer grazing in the meadow gawked as we slowly rumbled down the path. We could have gone on for miles and I wouldn't have objected.

The game lived up to my expectations. An eight-man football nail-biter. Stanford roared out to a 22-6 lead. The margin was reduced to 22-12 at the half. And with momentum building early in the third quarter, Absarokee took the lead for the first time. Shortly after Stanford regrouped to take back the lead. And as the final minutes ticked off the clock, the Huskies of Absarokee marched down the field destined to tie the game it seemed and possibly win if they made the conversion. But it wasn't to be. A deflected pass, resulting in an interception that went unchallenged for a touchdown.

Unforgettable perhaps.

Overlooking Absarokee gridiron.

But what I'll never forget were the few, but pristine moments of solitude I experienced while walking down from the foothills. It was like a dream. I passed along the tree-line path that followed the Rosebud River and its cold water from springs and run-offs in the nearby Beartooth Mountains. And up ahead... was it possible… the sound of high school football just out of my sight? I considered those out of body experiences that we hear about when the world becomes rather surreal. Could I have died?

Again, it was like a dream.

Just Shy of 49

“Best seats in the house” at Sunburst.

It was 966 miles and two new small town football venues in one road trip. Although I hadn't been on the road every weekend this year, this particular outing to Rudyard and Sunburst made up for the idle weekends earlier in the season. It's a life... sometimes hard.

Few people beyond my immediate family have ever joined me in the past on these football excursions, but my friend Ken (a.k.a. Slim Hardtack) tagged along for a trip that found us only eight miles shy of the 49th Parallel (the Canadian border for those folk who are geographically challenged on North America). I felt a bit cheated having come so close to Canada and not actually crossing into the land of the frozen tundra. Nevertheless, a couple years ago I did just that when attending a game in Eureka, but that's another story for another time.

At 65-years-old, Slim doesn't move quite as fast as... oh, let's say a spry 47-year-old youth like myself, so I knew if timing became an issue, I couldn't hold him too accountable. As it turned out, I had my own issues as I forgot to pack my tent and sleeping pad and after about six miles beyond Powell's city limits, we turned around to retrieve my gear.

Camping somewhere near Fort Benton was the plan drawn up a few days before our departure, but by the time we pulled into Harlowton, the day's light was waning quickly. We pitched camp at the community fairgrounds and sat down at our picnic table with a big bowl of navy bean soup including side orders of wheat thins, tinned oysters and sour cream. The cold drew down on the meal, but the soup stayed hot and later on, clouds formed overhead to seal in what was left of any remaining warmth from the day, resulting in a morning that was quite bearable for mid-October.

• • •

After morning coffee, it was onward to Eddie's Corner with a small time-out at the Judith Gap wind farm. We stepped out of our rig to hear the hush of the egantic machines. (I'm introducing the word "egantic" today as an alternative to the world "ginormous" which was recently added to Webster's Dictionary). We contemplated how some have come to resent such a hopeful looking operation where cost-effective, cows, power, barb wire, symmetry, clean, and wheat farmers all come together. Past the wind farm, the tiny town of Judith Gap and Eddie's Corner, we stopped for petrol in Stanford and then by-passing Geraldine, Fort Benton and finally arriving in Chester on the famous Hi-Line.

Coyote over Chester, Montana.

I wanted to see if the coyote sculpture was still sitting on top of the high school at Chester. I was pleased to see it still poised in its howling position despite the name change of the school a couple of years ago which included a new mascot—the Hi-Line Hawks. Less than a half hour later we were driving into Rudyard with plenty of time to spare before the game—taking in the modest community attractions that include a movie house and automobile museum.

In past years I'd seen North Star (once known as Blue Sky-KG... yet another school with a former identity) when they were on the road at Hays and West Yellowstone, but this was the first time I'd been to Rudyard. It's probably one of the few gridirons over 300 miles away that I didn't attempt to acquire some kind of description before attending. Something always seemed magical about the place when I looked at it on the the map—so far and way up north. Perhaps the play of their impressive 1999 state championship six-man team lingered in my mind as well.

I wasn't disappointed in finding the North Star football field and it's simplistic, on-the-edge-of-town setting. However, over the years I've learned to be careful to classify any given football field as a desirable location until it is actually occupied with fans and other components of a football contest. And sure enough, as things were shaping up at North Star, the ambulance rolled in and parked itself on the northeast corner of the field blocking a considerable portion of my "clean" shot in that direction. So distraught by this violation of gridiron feng shui, I actually queried the two medics of the vehicle to see if there was an alternate location for the big blue and white box on wheels. I hope they didn't see me as some self-loving shooter from a big town making some ridiculous demand. Regardless, my request was denied.

The Knights of North Star.

Like so many small town high school football games, everyone from the community seemed to be in attendance. Despite the unfavorable outcome for the Knights of North Star in their last home game of the regular season, I never heard anyone diss the team or coach except one player who second guessed a play near the game's end.

Kick-off for the North Star/Augusta game was 1:00 p.m. and ended just after 2:30 p.m. The condensed time frame was the combination of six-man play's 10-minute quarters and a running clock in the second half due to a lopsided score. This gave us plenty of time to make our way to Sunburst, but not before a layover in Shelby, Montana.

• • •

I normally don't plug anyone's business in this blog, but I'm happy to shamelessly endorse the Sherlock Motel and its owner Mark Wilson. This guy knows Montana. I wish we could have stayed longer in Shelby if only to visit with Mark.

• • •

High ground at Sunburst.

Like a crown sitting on royalty's head, that's where you'll find the football field in Sunburst. The only thing held higher (literally) in the community of 415 is its water tank. And so, what a great place to watch a football game... with the town below and the Sweetgrass Hills off in the distance. It's places like Sunburst and its surrounding scenery where floodlights should be prohibited! I'd like to propose a football schedule to the Sunburst town council or school board that has the last two home football games playing out on Saturday afternoon instead of Friday night.

Speaking of rescheduling games, it was homecoming weekend in Sunburst and that meant the main event was Saturday night instead of Friday night. Had I not called the school a week earlier to confirm the game time, I would have been standing around in Sunburst on a Friday night feeling really stupid when someone told me the game was the following night instead. My advice is simple: when driving over 200 miles for a small town high school football game, always call ahead to confirm the event's location, date and time.

Earlier when we stopped at Eddie's corner, I had purchased a Great Falls Tribune newspaper and read the scores in disbelief... from night before, Twin Bridges over Drummond and Absarokee defeats Park City. Earlier in the season Ekalaka had finally downed Wibaux. The stars of Class C eight-man football in Montana had realigned it seemed. I wondered if the same gods would be spinning their magic this close to Canada resulting in another change of the guard for the northern conference. As part of the homecoming festivities, the middle school football teams of Sunburst and Centerville were playing a late afternoon game and in the remaining hour of sunlight, Sunburst came away the victor. Surely many others in attendance like myself considered this an omen of what was to come in the main event.

Well, some would say that three out of four ain't bad.

What's a good football team to do? Simply put, the defending state champs from Centerville were totally immune to the upset magic—thus spoiling the Sunburst homecoming bash. In hindsight, I wonder if it was my fault. I've seen Centerville play four times over the years and they've never lost—starting with the Miners eight-man title victory against Denton in 1999.

With the floodlit gridiron surrounded by darkness and the scenic vista beyond the end zone invisible, the Sunburst-Centerville football game transformed into an ordinary Friday night football game that could be found in Texas, Nebraska or Pennsylvania. My energy to work my camera dissipated with the day's light. Surly if the game had been a dogfight, Slim and I would have stayed and adopted the role of spectators.

As we walked out to our vehicle during halftime, Sunburst's coach Matt Clark stopped me and asked if I was the one who wrote the football blog. I came clean about it although I was embarrassed that I'd been busted leaving the game early—by the home team's football coach no less! Despite the impending loss that was breathing down on his team, Coach Clark thanked me for coming up. Impressed we were.

• • •

Slim was making the complimentary motel coffee at 4:45 a.m. the next day. By 5:45 a.m. we had secured a booth in the only cafe that was open in Shelby, Montana on a Sunday morning. On the way home, we mused about the owners of Cadillac pickup trucks and wondered if they drove their rigs with cow manure on their boots. Slim suspected there must be a nicely crafted boot box located somewhere in the bed of the truck (lined of course) while leather house slippers are worn in the cab. Hmmm, if you're a Cadillac pickup owner, we'd be curious to know the answer to this query of ours.

Morning light at Power, Montana.

Desperate for a stronger cup of coffee than that provided by the Sherlock Motel, Slim and I detoured at Dutton and Power as we made our way down the interstate. It was Sunday and way too early so, as expected, we came away from the two communities empty-handed. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist photographing Power's gridiron in the early morning light with the delicate coating of frost on the turf.

Finally in Great Falls we stumbled into a Starbucks. I don't know, is it me or are Starbucks and its clones filling up with pretentious customers— just shy of those who show up for an exhibit opening at a big city art gallery featuring damaged lamp shade sculptures?

After our foo-foo (but strong) coffee and nearing Belt, we continued in our musing as we considered the everyday operations of a fictitious Department of Homeland Insecurity and the qualifications required to work for that branch of the government.

And then something about Al Gore's Nobel Peace Prize, his oversized home, what if global warming really was a hoax, and what would be so wrong with reducing our waste just for the hell of it?

It's all starting to blur now... Did I tell you it was 996 miles?

The Gospel According to Epler

The Chester, Kansas original six.

The following excerpt is from Stephen Epler's book titled Six-Man Football: The Streamlined Game. Published by Harper & Brothers Publishers in 1938. When I was reading this to myself the other day, I felt as though I should be standing before a congregation of football disciples...

The Beginnings of Six-man Football

Six-man football can best be explained to the person familiar with the eleven-man game as the usual football played by two teams that play without tackles and guards, and are short the services of one halfback. A six-man team is composed of two ends, a center, quarterback, halfback, and fullback. Six-man football is not a pass and touch game. Tackling and blocking as well as kicking, passing, and running with the ball are integral elements of the game.

A casual observer at a six-man game would notice little difference between the two types of football except the smaller number of players. A more careful observer would soon discern other differences. He would not only observe that there are fewer players, but that the field is smaller. He would notice that all the players are allowed to catch forward passes and that more players handle the ball. He would find it much easier to see what each player is doing and he could easily observe the movement of the ball. He would notice that this is a more open game and that every running play includes at least one lateral or backward pass. He would discover that there are few pile-ups and fewer injuries. The increased amount of scoring and the fast-moving play would hold his attention.

Six-man football is primarily a player's game and only incidentally a spectator's game. Players become enthusiastic about six-man because they are allowed to carry the ball, catch passes, and handle laterals. Every member of the team must be an all-around player skilled in ball handling, pass receiving, and pass throwing as well as in blocking and tackling. The freedom from injuries and the open play increase their zest.

—Stephen Epler, 1938

Starting with Noxon

The Red Devils of Noxon at summer practice.

Noxon, Montana is off the beaten path in every sense of the way. First of all, it is located in the extreme northwest corner of Montana and secondly, you have to drive over a one-lane bridge coming off the main highway to enter the town. With the Bitterroot and Cabinet Mountains on both sides and a healthy and thick stand of pine trees all around, Noxon would likely personify the quintessential image of what many people think Montana should look like—and perhaps Northern Idaho.

Despite its overall Montana-esque setting, Noxon is no Wibaux when it comes to football. That is to say, high school football still has its work cut out for it in Noxon compared to a town like Wibaux, Montana where the football season rates as high as the hunting season. While Noxon just restarted their football program in the late 90s, Wibaux has been competing for state football titles since its six-man days back in the late 30s and early 40s.

Another striking contrast between these two eight-man football schools/towns is that while some of the athletic kids in the high school at Noxon are "saving themselves" for the basketball season and opting out of football, Wibaux's community might not understand such rationale unless those same players could guarantee a state title in basketball.

Nevertheless, football tradition or location aren't everything.

* * *
I travelled to Noxon this past August to observe their first week of two-a-day practices. The idea came to me on the advice of Jody Oberweiser—the wife of Drummond's head football coach Jim Oberweiser. A few years earlier, I had considered a Noxon excursion until I heard they had installed lights. I decided 500-plus miles was too far to travel for a game under the homogenous-rendering flood lights of Friday night. So, I made plans to attend in the summer when two-a-day practices were held during the magical light of mornings and evenings.

I'm not sure what Noxon co-head coach Ted Miller thought when I called him up in June telling him about my idea to visit during their summer practices. Yet, he didn't discourage me, so I moved on with my plans.

One of the perks for travelling to that part of the state during the summer with ample time on my hands was stopping in to check out a few other small town football venues that I had pondered in the past—Superior, St. Regis, Plains, Thompson Falls, Troy, Charlo and Arlee. Along with Noxon, I would give Thompson Falls the nod for a great football setting with the added bonus of fielding a competitive team year after year.

There's a bit of anxiety when one commits to stay in a town/area they've never visited—especially if there isn't any advertising or significant word of mouth to lure you there like... oh let's say, the Bahamas. So, as I drove across the famed one-lane bridge that leads to Noxon, all I could say to myself was, "Well, this is it."

While in Noxon for the week, I stayed about five miles up the main highway (State Route 200) at the Cabinet Gorge RV Park. Diane gave me a great campsite for four nights at $42. Although I slept in my little tent and on the ground every night, it was priceless to know that a hot shower was a short walk away.

I had most of my meals from my cooler that I kept stocked with ice. However, I did break down for one meal and ordered a wonderful burger at Sneakers Bar and Grill in downtown Noxon. Next door at the Noxon Merchantile I found a bag of Australian Kookaburra licorice—what a treat and the last place I would have guessed to carry such a luxurious import. I also found my morning coffee (and a breakfast burrito) from the portable and efficient Road Runners Espresso—a converted potato chip truck that set up every morning at the end of the bridge by the main highway.

* * *
I knew it would be a good week when freshman Tyrell Wilkenson walked out of the locker room boasting one evening practice that he had gained weight over the summer and was now a whopping 136 pounds—soaking wet.

You can't help but get attached to any team if you spend enough time with them. I felt quite indifferent when I started shooting on Tuesday night, but by Friday afternoon I was a Red Devil fan as much as anyone else. Regardless of the 2007 season, I hope they come away from it with a great deal of confidence that will carry them into the 2008 season and beyond.

Leaving town that Saturday, I considered my comparison of Noxon and Wibaux and the hypothetical result of combining Noxon's scenery with the football enthusiasm of Wibaux—they'd probably have one whale of a football team. Some might argue I've just described Drummond and Centerville.

Coach Kudos

Here's a great article about Class C coaches Dan Lucier of Superior and Drummond's Jim Oberweiser. The story was written by Chad Dundas of the Missoulian, based in Missoula, Montana. Click HERE

Exhibit Opening

Summer practice at Broadview.

Come one, come all. The Western Heritage Center in downtown Billings, Montana will be hosting a photography exhibit titled "The Biggest Game in a Small Town" This is a collection of 50 images from small town high school football games in Montana and Wyoming from 1997-2007 by yours truly. The exhibit runs from September 13 through December 1. Museum hours are Tuesdays–Saturdays 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. The museum is located at 2822 Montana Avenue and their web site is www.ywhc.org

Hitting Isn't Good Tackling

Tackling drills during summer practice at Noxon.

As a fan of high school football, I was disturbed upon reading a recent sports feature in my local hometown newspaper (The Powell Tribune) about the Powell High School football program titled "Natural Born Hitters." In short, the article featured six players from the high school team and discussed their ability and hunger to "hit." The following is my response to the "Natural Born Hitters" story.

Hitting (i.e. a purposeful violent tackle or collision) does not personify nor define the game of football anymore than the cumulative GPA of a football team. It is only a small part—in fact a by-product of sorts—and certainly should not be glorified nor the focal point of the game as this story so sadly portrays.

This story has somehow confused good tackling with this thing called hitting which doesn't necessarily result in a successful tackle. I've seen plenty of mediocre teams over the years with their proclaimed hard hitters, but the brilliant teams are those where every player is running to the ball right up to the whistle instead of walking down field while one of their teammates attempts to make a "vicious hit." With three or more defenders on the ball carrier, a successful tackle is much more likely.

Of all attributes found in the game of gridiron football, I wondered why hitting was highlighted in this particular story. Whatever happened to the character building that should take place via the principles of a strong work ethic, sportsmanship, creative play selection or teamwork? It was always my understanding that to participate in any sport was to become a better person. How are we helping to build character in a young man if we validate a behavior where he "imagines the punishment he can deliver?" What kind of thumbless mentality are we perpetuating here?

Although quite physical, football is also a game of strategy, finesse and proper execution of any given play that is called. It doesn't have to be smash-mouth with the intention of humiliating one's opponent or "wrecking one's spirit and determination." Those teams who aspire only to play smash-mouth football are typically one-dimensional and unimaginative. Eventually their assorted weaknesses are discovered and exploited leading to their defeat.

Reading through the story I couldn't help but think of the smack-based talk associated with the WWE ("professional" wrestling). I will even venture to say that perhaps those who find hitting to be such a great attribute in football might also be the same who attend a NASCAR event hoping they'll witness a brutal crash.

I can only imagine the non-football fans in the area reading "Natural Born Hitters" and finding even more distaste for a game that they believe is oozing with testosterone. I can't blame them.

Tackling drills at Fromberg.

As memorable as "big hits" might be, Chuck Bednarik's hit on Frank Gifford in 1960 (at best) only helped to seal the Eagles victory over the Giants while Jack Tatum's 1978 hit on Darryl Stingley was during a preseason contest. Such "bone-jarring hits" typically are more poignant in ending careers rather than winning football games as was the case in these two famous hits. Sadly, Bednarik is better known for his hit on Gifford rather than his place in the Hall of Fame or his role as the last of the Sixty-Minute Men (those who played both offense and defense).


It's a fine line between wanting to deliver a vicious hit and wanting to injure one's opponent. I have yet to learn of any football player who is capable of controlling their power and velocity of any given tackle/hit to insure that only the former results. Coaches and fans need to be thoughtful in the kind of encouragement we pass on to these young and impressionable players.

Everyone knows that any game/sport as physical as football has always been prone to a higher injury rate than those that are less physical. As I see it, the "Natural Born Hitters" story only endorses a style of play that increases the likelihood of injury. And that's just irresponsible.

Finally, we should keep in mind that just because a football player is considered a hard hitter doesn't mean the impact of their hit is totally absorbed by the individual in their crosshairs. Many of the game's best hitters leave the game before their time due to injuries associated with their overly-aggressive style of play.