From Inchelium to Ritzville, small-town games still give the gridiron sport unique flavor
GIFFORD — Waiting for the Robert E. Lee — OK, waiting for the Columbian Princess — we learn this truism about high school football and its fans.
In Texas, they tailgate.
In Washington, they camp.
On the ramp for the ferry across Lake Roosevelt are a Fed Ex truck, a soccer-mom Suburban, a pickup from a utility locator, the inevitable SUVs, a yellow bus from the Lamont School District taking the Sprague-Harrington Falcons to their game in Inchelium — and four gas-guzzling RVs, each with a day rig in tow, football families which have tailed the bus from Harrington.
When the game is over and the bus is pointed back toward Lincoln County and home, the RV caravan will continue on to a campground down the road at Twin Lakes for the remainder of the weekend.
One of the RV dads, Jamie Floyd, is accustomed to the life of the traveling fan, having followed his son Ryan on Gonzaga University's rides through the past two NCAA basketball tournaments.
"Yeah," he laughed with a friend, "but I spent less getting to Ryan's games than I spent getting up here."
* * *
It is difficult to resist the allure of Friday Night Lights.
Just don't forget the practicality of the Friday Morning Headlights, especially when a ceaseless mist and a creeping fog have reduced visibility to the length of the football field on Highway 25, leaving picturesque Kettle River Range little more than a rumor.
Don't forget a thermos of strong coffee, an extra pair of socks, a good map, and a roll of antacids — perhaps a gross — if you plan on taking your Friday adventures to extremes, as we did.
Sprague-Harrington at Inchelium at 2 p.m., Davenport at Ritzville at 7. Four teams one loss among them, two league championships on the line, six highways and county roads, one ferry boat that goes both ways (like all the players0, 12 hours, 273 miles, three cases of potential road kill — elk, deer and turkey — successfully avoided.
The proliferation of late-night high school highlight shows on the tube has tempered somewhat the zealous fa's need to undertake such an odyssey, though obviously you don't get the whole experience. Sometimes you don't even get the highlight you may have expected. There is a refereeing crew from Spokane which vividly remembers whizzing along to its game on some eastern Washington back road and seeing a TV type in his spiffy parka, map spread across the hood of his rig, if not hopelessly lost then consumed with self-doubt.
So add in one cautionary tale.
Oh, and two powerful cases of indigestion. With a schedule like that, you're obligated to eat bad foot — and you're obligated to eat it fast.
The football, however, is a feast.
* * *
Eight man football is routinely described as a carnival in cleats, wild and wide-open, a game where the bet is always over and never under.
Just don't let anyone tell you it isn't tough, too.
Late in the first quarter against Inchelium, Sprague-Harrington's Aaron Henry — playing quarterback — scrambles away from the rush. Two defenders cling to his legs as he strains for more yardage, still upright. Then Inchelium's Chris Burch blows in and the resulting collision is frightening.
The whoops from the Inchelium sideline quickly subside when Henry remains on the turf, not moving. An ambulance is summoned, and Henry is put on a stretcher and taken away.
Yet when the teams come out of the locker room for the second half, there is Henry — moving stiffly, but determined to play.
"The guy got me helmet to helmet and my neck kind of popped down," he recalled. "I got real tingly but I thought I was fine — I knew I'd come back out and play. They just wanted to check me out."
(Inchelium players come in all shapes and sizes. Seen here is Jon Simmons, Willie Shiflett and Tim Hoffman)
* * *
They come in all sizes in the B-8s. Standing next to one another on the Inchelium sideline are Willie Shiflett, a 5-foot, 76-pound freshman, and Jesse Finley, a 5-11, 315-pound sophomore.
But take this from someone who knows: when the freshman accidentally grinds your toes beneath his cleats, it feels like 315 pounds. At least that's our story and we're sticking to it.
* * **
As the Hornets roll on to a surprisingly easy 51-12 victory over the previously unbeaten Falcons, it's remarkable how un-wild-and-crazy the Inchelium attack is.
Burch bulldozes the middle and David Tonasket slips and slithers outside the ends, but quarterback Jacolby Simpson's passes are, for the most part, modest screens and drags. No spread-'em-and shred-'em. On defense, coach Duane Gatlin insists on double covering S-H receiver Colin Floyd, and stubbornly squibs every kickoff after Floyd runs back a punt for a touchdown.
Where's the fun in that?
Still, don't call Gatlin conservative — at least not within earshot of principal Ron Washington.
"Are you kidding?" Washington said. "When he goes for it on fourth-and-four from the 40-yard line in the first quarter?"
"Well, Gatlin alibied, "every time you kick it, (Floyd) runs it for a touchdown. We finally figured we could stop anyone they wanted to throw to or run, but we needed two guys on him."
* * *
Oddly, as Inchelium's victory looks more certain, the crowd for this last home game dwindles — until you realize that with each successive touchdown, more of the cars ringing the field start honking their horns.
It's the B-8 version of the luxury suite.
* * *
One more ferry episode: On the Columbian Princess, there's a Wake-Up-and-Read-It vending machine. A photographer snaps pictures of a customer reaching for the last copy of the paper.
"You're not with the Review, are you?" one car's driver asks the photographer's companion.
"Guilty," he replies.
"Which one are you? Roskelley?"
"Missed it by about 30 years," the man is told.
"Hmph," the driver grunts. "You don't look 30 years older than Roskelley."
By John Blanchette of the S-R
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