The Power of the Small Town Press

Allen Burke

Canadian is heavily dependent on Oil. McCook is still very much tied to the successes of local farms and ranches. Both towns have made efforts to diversity. Linton, ND is different. Much more than Canadian or McCook, Linton is not trying to economically reinvent itself and diversify from the industry it was founded on- farming.

Alan Burke, Owner and Editor of the Linton weekly paper, The Record, has a deep appreciation for the role a newspaper plays in a small town. “In many ways we are the scrapbook keeper for the community,” he states while sitting in his bare bones (concrete floor) but well used office. It is Thursday, and if there can ever be a time that is called a “down day” for a weekly paper, this may be it. The weekly deadlines have been met and this week’s addition is in the mail, deposited in the vending machines and posted on the paper’s website for its digital subscribers. “We also do a lot of printing locally and that is never slow,” the editor corrects an inquiry as to when would be the best time to sit and talk with a visitor.

The 64 year old newsman quickly shifts to a more moderate pace as he is relaxed and gracious in discussing and answering what could be construed as hard ball questions for a small town newspaperman.

The Emmons County Record, Emmons County's oldest business, was established in May 1884 by Darwin R. Streeter, at the now extinct town of Williamsport. It was moved to Linton in Feb. 1899.

Burke has owned the Record since 1993. “It was in federal government receivership (bankruptcy) when we bought it,” he recalls. The paper today is the 5^th largest weekly in North Dakota, despite Linton having only the 54^th largest population of towns in North Dakota. “We have worked hard to build up our advertising. By having a solid advertising base, we can offer a much larger paper. We have lots of pictures. We cover lots of sporting events, not only Linton, but in the other four schools here in the area. We think that is important because those are always positive stories and they help to bind a community together.”

A fine line any small town paper must walk it its obligation as a watchdog for the public and the desire not to alienate local business owners and their advertising dollars. Burke, who spent a long career in public relations work before re-entering the newspaper business in his mid-40’s, credits experience gained in PR work with helping him traverse this potential mine field. “You have to use some common sense,” he states. “If the public has a right to know and the story is important to the citizens, then we will print it. It is pretty clear in our country how important freedom of the press is. It is the backbone of our basic freedoms as citizens and newspapers have historically been the leaders in protecting that freedom. Several years ago we had a situation here where we felt the city was violating the law in the way they were collecting deposits for water. We got an opinion from the State Attorney General’s Office that confirmed we were right and the city had to refund some money. That made about as many people around here mad at us as those that appreciated what we were doing.”

In an industry undergoing massive upheavals, especially amongst once powerful big city dailies, Burke still claims he sees a bright future for the small down papers, if they are willing to adapt. “We have had to reinvent ourselves the last few years,” he says. “It is the digital age and you cannot ignore that. We sell a lot of papers out of the state, mostly to former residents who keep a subscription. The postal service has gotten very expensive and not very dependable (a complaint I heard from all three editors in my Highway 83 towns).  Going digital just makes sense. We can send it out in a PDF format and we can sell you the subscription cheaper. We don’t have the paper, ink and mailing expense. You get it right away and in many cases the visual quality is higher than our paper edition. More and more of our out of town subscribers are going to the digital edition.”

“Newspapers play a critical role in keeping small towns viable,” says Burke, who started in the newspaper business at age 11, throwing papers, before moving into the corporate world of banking and public relations, only to return to his true passion 20 years ago. “We need, like any other business today, to stay ahead of the curve. But we are doing that. It is sometimes a challenge, but we have to. Small town weeklies are too important to let die off.”   

Linton, ND

Six week old Lane Otto is the first grandchild of Linton head football coach Dan Imdieke and his wife Cathy. The young man was in attendance for his first football game as Maple Valley traveled to Linton to take on his Grandpa’s Lions in a state semifinal game. The winner would advance to the North Dakota Class A state title game, to be played the next weekend in the Fargo Dome.

It young Lane lives to the ripe old age of 100, witnessing multiple games weekly every fall for a century, it is quite possible he will never see a more improbable comeback than he did on the day of his first game.

The Linton Lions, on a windy and cold North Dakota day, displayed more guts than a fish market in executing what the 35 year veteran Imdieke called the greatest comeback he had ever seen. In Linton, a school known for 4^th quarter heroics, that is quite a statement. “We have had some great comebacks here,” said an emotional Imdieke, post game, while sitting in his office drying his hair after a player induced gator aid bath, “but nothing ever like this, not even close. How these kids pulled together today and did what they did is unbelievable. I can’t express how proud right now I am.”

Down 20-0 and forced to play the second half without their injured all-state quarterback, the win was a true Linton team effort, but the lead actors of the second half miracle were as follows: 1) A tight end turned quarterback, a role he last played in 7^th grade, eagerly jumping into his new position with a moxie induced swagger worthy of a Captain Morgan, leading his team out of what seemed an insurmountable half time hole. 2) A center that – since the new quarterback did not know the plays – resorted to the old backyard two hand touch strategy of drawing the plays up in the dirt as the team huddled around him. 3) An injured fullback, conscripted to become a kicker, booting the decisive last second winning kick, but only after a time out so he could have his dislocated shoulder popped back into its socket.

What started as a promising day for Linton and its huge fan following, quickly went south. After forcing a Maple Valley punt following a three and out on their  initial possession, the Lions took over on the 50 yard line. Lion quarterback Tanner Purintun, having an all-state caliber senior season, scrambled down the north sideline for a gain of 20 yards. As was tackled out of bounds, he grabbed his right knee, letting out a loud scream, heard even above the roar of the cheering Linton crowd. 

After Purintun left the field, his replacement, a sophomore, who in his defense had not taken a meaningful snap on the varsity level all season, promptly fumbled the ball on a fullback exchange. The ball was recovered by the Falcons. A sub was put in to play Purintun’s defensive position of corner back. The Maple Valley coaches, smelling blood in the water, on the first play called for a streak pass pattern to be run at Purintun's defensive replacement. The perfect laid pass resulted in a 76 yard  touchdown. 6-0 Maple Valley.

Purintun gamely attempted to re-enter the battle. With his QB reduced to hopping on his injured leg, Imdieke decided to run everything from the shotgun formation, limiting the amount of movement required of Purintun. It was a bad decision. The pain in the gritty senior signal caller was overbearing. In his junior year, on the same knee, he had torn his MCL (medial collateral ligament). He was sure he had suffered the same injury again. Between tears of pain and frustration, he told his Dad, who had come down to the bench area, “it feels just the same as last year.” A short time later, a doctor examined the injury and confirmed Tanner’s worse fears, torn MCL. Purintun would contribute no more on the field this day, but he still would play an instrumental half time leadership role.

The rest of the first half was a nightmare for the Lions. Half way through the second quarter, Imdieke saddled up to me on the sideline and said, “we are in big trouble, this could get real ugly.”

It was obvious that his young sophomore quarterback was in over his head. In the first round of the playoffs, Maple Valley had knocked out the QB of the state’s number one ranked team, Harvey. The injury led to a 15-14 upset win. The Falcons readily promoted their reputation of a tough, hard hitting and edgy team. The image was enhanced by a large number of MV players sporting Mohawk haircuts. Now  was the perfect time to play the bully, and the visitors gladly accepted the role. Demonstrative displays of emotion, accompanied by shouts and chest pounding after almost every tackle, were meant to unnerve the Linton players, and it seemed to be working. The large visiting crowd joined in with several taunting chants. The barbarians had broken down the city gates and the Lions seemed to not have the fight needed to defend their own field. The visitors kept pounding away as the Linton players, both on the field and on the sidelines, hung their heads. The feeling on the Linton sideline was one of hopelessness.

Half way through the second quarter, down now 14-0, Imdieke was desperate. “We can’t move the ball if we can’t throw it,” he said to an assistant, an admission that the Falcons were simply lining up to stop the run with all 11 defenders packed tight in the box between the ends, daring Linton to throw the ball. A lineman had a suggestion, “Coach, Jayden can play quarterback.” Label it as a suggestion for the ages.

Jayden Gross was a senior tight end having a good season, leading the team with nine touchdown pass receptions. “Jayden” asked Imdieke, “can you play quarterback. “I did in 7^th grade,” Gross confirmed. Imdieke, in an almost pleading voice asked, “want to give it a try.” Why not, was Gross’ shoulder shrugging response. Like Paul Newman’s character in the movie Cool Hand Luke, it was Gross' cavalier way of saying, “whatever you say, boss man.”

Gross promptly fumbled his first game snap from center in four years. Imdieke raised his eyes to the heavens, seemingly out of miracle solutions and stowing himself for a long second half. Maple Valley took a 20-0 lead into the halftime intermission.

Imdieke, during the first part of the break, huddled with his offense and Gross. “How many plays do you know from the quarterback position,” the coach asked. “None,” said Gross. “Coach, I know the quarterback plays, I can tell him and he can just do what I say. We can do it. I will make it work,” said center Nolan Meidinger.

With no other option available, Imdieke agreed to the arrangement that led to the strange site of each time the team huddled for an offensive play in the second half, number 50 could be seen crouching like a baseball catcher in the middle of the huddle, intensely  scratching out diagrams in the dirt. “In case you couldn’t tell,” Imdieke said with a wink after the game, “Nolan is our smartest kid.”

The talk amongst the players and coaches at halftime was of pride, determination and holding on to some sort of dignity as they accepted their bad luck and dismal fate. The word “winning” was not mentioned until Puritun, assisted to the team's meeting area on the shoulder of his brother, through tears of more frustration than pain, lit into his teammates. “You guys have quit. Hear that word, quit. I will say it again, quit.” His tone was one more of disgust than anger, as he spit out the word seldom associated with a Linton team; quit. “I can’t be out there with you, I wish I could, but I am only one guy. I mean nothing to our defense and you lay down for 20 points to these guys?  We are Linton. We are known for great comebacks, the team that never quits. I will not see my senior class remembered as the team that quit. That is not going to happen. We can win this game. All we need is one score. Then we are back in it. We got to shut them down and we can. We can. You just got to believe, just like we always have. Trust each other. We still got time.”

On their  second play from scrimmage in the third quarter, Maple Valley appeared to salt the game away with a 64 yard untouched run to the end zone by Ethan Preston. The sobering tally was posted on the new Linton scoreboard: Home 0, Visitors 26. The only question left to answer would be could the Lions fight off the embarrassment of a mercy rule running clock that would kick in if the score reached 35-0? But don’t close the casket and start shoveling dirt on the Lion carcass just yet, a small yellow flag lay up the field, unseen by the chest pumping celebrating MV players. Holding penalty, the official signaled, bring it back.

The penalty seemed at the time to be just a minor delay to the inevitable thrashing that was to come Linton’s way, but it turned out to be the play of the game. “If they score there and go up four touchdowns, even as hard as our kids fought, I don’t think we could have come back,” said Imdieke after the game.

The confidence builder, just as Puritun had predicted with his emotional half

time plea, came with the Lions first score. With 5:45 left in the third quarter, Brock Nagel found the end zone, Gross ran in the two point conversion and the deficit was now a doable 12 points. The play of the drive was a 30 yard pass from Gross to Dillon Doolittle, converting a 3^rd and 7 to a first down. It was Gross’ first completion on the day. As the game wore on, the Linton passing game was reduced to Gross taking the snap and simply running in the backfield as his receivers free lanced, running arbitrary patterns, looking for an area not containing a defensive back. It was back yard touch football at its best.

After the first score, Gross said he and his teammates knew they had a chance. "That touchdown took a lot off our shoulders. After we scored, we now had to depend on the defense. We needed the ball back at least two more times.”

Maple Valley drove deep into Linton territory on the next possession, but this time, the Lions did not break. Led by Jayden’s first cousin, lineman Alex Gross, the Lions were now beginning to shut down the MV offense, fatigue setting in on the larger Falcon lineman. Remember the Hill, the Lions reminded each other. "The Hill" was the legendary conditioning program the Linton teams had followed for years, running up and down a steep incline located next to their practice field. Over the years, many friend and foe alike, credited the training routine with the uncanny ability Linton had for staging 4th quarter comebacks.

Forcing a change of possession on downs at their own 24, the ball was back in the hands of Gross and the offense. He promptly lead the Lions 76 yards to their second touchdown, scoring himself on a 3-yard run. With 10:59 left to play, the lead was now down to 6, 20-14. Gross accounted for 69 of the 76 yards on the drive, rushing for 27 yards and initiating the long distance play of the day, hitting Doolittle with a 42-yard pass that set up the Lions first and goal at the MV 6.

Now, said Gross to his defensive teammates, we need one more stop, get me the ball just one more time.

With 8:02 left in the game, the Falcons had driven into Linton territory, when Gross (who else) picked off an errant Falcon pass at the Lion’s 44 yard line. It was now make or break time for the Linton season.

Imdieke huddled his offense on the sideline before sending them out for the decisive drive. In an excited voice he told his team exactly what they needed to do. “Look, we are going to run it down their throats, you hear me, right down them. 56 yards is what we need. We are going to block and we are going on an 8 minute drive to win this game. We will leave them no time to come back. This is it, right now. What we work all year for. This is Linton football. This is how you play football. This is fun. It is right there for the taking; a chance of a lifetime and we will not be stopped.”

The old coach is a pretty good prophet. But it was not easy. The Lions had to convert on 4^th down twice as they drove to the west end zone. The 14 play drive, culminating in a one yard sneak by Gross, left only 39 seconds on the clock and tied the game at 20-20. The stage was now set for one more hero in a maroon jersey to step forward.

As the Lions inexorably drove down the field for the winning score, Imdieke played his hand,  one last trick up his sleeve. “Get the extra point team ready,” he told an assistant, “when we score, we are kicking it.” The reaction of those who heard the coach’s directive was dead silence. Finally someone spoke up and reminded the coach that the team had not attempted a kick in over a month, and for good reason, their kicker, senior fullback Brock Negal was a great blocker but a terrible kicker. He had missed his last six tries. And one further problem, Imdieke was told, Nagel had left the game early in the 4^th quarter with a dislocated shoulder. But Imdieke had made up his mind. “We are kicking,” he insisted. “Put his shoulder back in and find the kicking tee,” he ordered.

Nagel’s winning kick into the setting High Plains afternoon Sun will go down in Linton lore as an end over end blast, a rocket shot that finally grounded somewhere west of the city limits. Let it be so, but in reality, it fluttered like a wing shot North Dakota pheasant as it crawled over the cross bar and between the uprights with all of several feet, at the most, to spare. To the Linton crowd, the injured Nagel’s effort was a masterpiece, a fitting end to as improbable a comeback as anyone could ever remember seeing.

Assistant Coach Tim Dockter kidded me after the game that I had brought the Lions “St. Louis Cardinals good luck.” My hometown Cardinals had the week before pulled off a miraculous run to the World Series championship. “Doc” was referring to the sixth game of the Series, when on the brink of elimination, the Cardinals had twice used two out, two strike base hits by David Freese and Lance Brinkman to tie a game they would eventually win in twelve innings. Many had since labeled the game as the greatest comeback in the history of the World Series. I told Doc that the Cardinals win had been improbable and very exciting, but the Linton win was much more spectacular. I based this on the fact that Freese and Brinkman were paid millions of dollars to do their specialty, hit a baseball. For the Cardinal effort to rival that of what we had just witnessed in Linton, the Cardinals would have had to be three runs down with the bases loaded and with no bench players left, having no other options, send to the plate a relief pitcher who has not batted since the 7^th grade, but who somehow manages to hit a walk off grand slam home run.

Rebounding from a 20-0 deficit in high school football is a great accomplishment, but it does happen. But to pull off that type of a comeback with a makeshift offense built around a quarterback who does not even know the plays, is simply amazing. To their credit, the Linton coaches all admitted they did not believe at half time they could win the game. “I just hoped we could hold them down better the second half,” said defensive coordinator Paul Keeney. “I thought no way,” admitted Imdieke. “I just wanted to not get embarrassed by the score. I was really down at the half. I mean we couldn’t even move the ball. It is still unbelievable that our kids pulled this off.”

Gross’ was unfazed by his sudden Saturday’s Hero status. “I was always wanted to play quarterback,” he said tying his shoes in the hectic and celebratory Lion locker room. “I was glad I could help out.” Was he nervous? “Not really,” he said.

Imdieke graciously admitted after the game that Gross was not the best of practice players. “He has run a lot of hills over the years,” Imdieke joked. “But maybe that helped today. I don’t think that kid ever gets nervous. He just takes it as it comes.”

Lion assistants, after the game, laughed as they traded stories of Gross, the non-interested practice player, turned unlikely quarterback hero. "Have you ever known him to not to show up on game day? Did you see him out there today. We are dying from the stress and he is having the time of his life. On that last drive, and you know how intense that was, we are driving for a chance to play in the state championship game, to go to the Dome and Jayden is up to the line acting like he is calling an audible, clowning around, just calling out numbers and colors. Our guys are looking at him like 'WTF.' He doesn’t even know the audible calls! Nolan looked like he was laughing so hard he almost couldn’t snap the ball. This is crazy, just crazy.” No, it is small town high school at its finest.

Hot Dang, Isn't This fun!

After the Milnor quarterfinal win, Coach Imdieke was all smiles as he addressed his team in the winning locker room. “Great job today. Oh boy, that was fun,” he told his fresh from the showers team. “The best we have looked all year. Well seniors, we got one more here (at home). We need a good week of practice, everybody focused and then we head to the Dome. What do you think? I told you, hot dang, isn’t this fun.”

The win over Milnor was the 298^th in the illustrious 35 year tenure of Imdieke at Linton. To get to the magic and seldom reached number of 300 this season, Imdieke's Lions would need to win next Saturday and the state title game to be held in two weeks at the Fargo Dome. It is doubtful that the long-time coach even is aware of the possible milestone achievement in his near future; he is having too much fun in the present.

Casey Stengel was an often quoted and loveable manager of the New York Yankees; as well known for his eccentric quotes and sayings as he was for the seven world series titles his Bronx Bombers won. Standing next to Imdieke on the sidelines at a Linton game is akin to spending the afternoon at a baseball game in the dugout with the late Stengel - on steroids.

Imdieke keeps up a non-stop chatter with anyone on the sidelines who will listen. His enthusiasm is contagious. His quarterback Tanner Purintun, says it is hard to have a bad day with the coach around. “That is what coach is known for, making football fun. Sometimes I think I take it more serious than he does, but he just has a way of having you ready to play. A lot of times I will think before a game, well, maybe we aren’t as ready as we should be and then the game will start, and everything he said all week that the other team would do on defense, they do. But yeah, it is obvious that he knows what he is doing and also that he really enjoys what he is doing.”

Having one of the best coaching years of his career, Imdieke’s team was not even mentioned in the pre-season as a top 10 club, but are still standing after the Milnor win, one of only four Class A team’s left in the state of North Dakota.

Stengel once said, “When you are younger you get blamed for crimes you never committed and when you're older you begin to get credit for virtues you never possessed. It evens itself out." Imdieke is enjoying the same type of elder statesman stature now, earned by his years of success. “I like this team because of the chemistry,” he says. “They all bring things to the team with their different personalities, that when you put them all together, they make a strong group. We have had better individual talent on a lot of our teams here, but this group is a strong team and that is why we have won a lot of the close game we have this year. They know they can count on each other.”

And hot dang, that makes football a fun game.

Hungarian Peasant Folk Dance Music and Why Does McCook Always Win

Defensive Coordinator Russ Schlager in foreground, Defensive Backfield Coach John Gumb and Head Coach Jeff Gross, in the background; direct the Bison in their first round Playoff game with Alliance

As I departed the Bison Stadium after McCook’s first round district game with Alliance, I was stopped by a blue windbreaker wearing gentleman I assumed to be an Alliance supporter, perhaps a parent. Our conversation went as such: Him: Aren’t you that writer guy I read about in the paper? Me: Yes. Him: Then you must be pretty smart. Me: Depends on who you ask. Him: Then I have a question. Me: Ok. Him: Why does McCook always win? Me: I don’t know. Maybe it was just their night. Him: It is always their night. We have just as good of players as them and we are just as big. I don‘t get it. Me: I don’t know what else to tell you. Him: I think they are just darn lucky. 

He spun on his heels and left, obviously dissatisfied with the non-answer he got from the smart writer.

I was due in Linton, ND the next afternoon for a Class A state playoff game and was faced with an all-night eight hour drive to get there. I was not looking forward to the lonely passage through the Sand Hills on a dark, moon less and cold night.

North of North Platte, NE and south of Pierre, SD, Highway 83 hits a stretch where no over the air radio stations are available to the bored traveler, with the exception of National Public Radio. As a card carrying Democrat, I whole heartily endorse NPR and hope that their funding, which has become an election year political football exploited by those dastardly Republicans, stays intact. However, there is only so much Hungarian Peasant Folk Dance music a body needs in one day. So imagine my delighted surprise when I discovered that due to the evening air ways carrying a stronger signal, that I could pick up one commercial AM station, the 50,000 watt giant KMOX, directly from my hometown of St. Louis, MO. Due to this stroke of good luck, I was able to listen to Mike Shannon butcher the English language as only the lovable “Moon Man” can, as he described the last three innings of the Cardinals 7^th game historic World Series win over the Texas Rangers. 

In between Shannon’s malaprops, as he told an elated home town audience of the Redbirds unlikely march to their 11^th world title, I contemplated the gentleman in blue’s question: “Why does McCook always win?”

By the time I crossed the border from Nebraska into South Dakota, with the Sioux Nation’s Rosebud Casino on my left, the question had gnawed at me enough that I spent the next 3 1/2  hours of driving through South Dakota formulating in my mind an answer.

By the time I reached the North Dakota boarder, having cheated a 45 mile detour of Highway 83 by taking a gravel road route that a weather-worn farmer had shown me back in August, usurping those cursed “government” barriers that if obeyed, would have added close to an hour to my already long enough trip, I had the answer: The Bison do not beat themselves. It is that simple to label, but much more complex to understand. I next needed to break down and examine each detailed plank Coach Gross has laid in building his powerhouse program.

Gross’ long term success is built upon preparation. The formula for another Friday night win begins each preceding Sunday evening in the Gross Family/Rec Room as the Bison coaching staff gathers to formulate the upcoming week’s practice schedule that will, they hope, come to fruition with a well execute game field performance on Friday night.

Many coaches can formulate a great game plan on the chalk board during a Sunday night meeting, but are unable to transfer the plan to the playing field on Friday night because they either do not understand, or will not accept, the number one rule of good teaching: accountability. If the student fails to master the task, then the teacher has failed, not the student. McCook players master their football tasks so well that many times they collaborate with the coaches to make game field adjustments.

During half time of one game, Gross was not happy with defensive end Matt Collicott for allowing the opposing quarterback to get to the sideline for a long gain. “You got to have contain on the naked boot, what happened,” Gross barked. “Their end scraped and I went with him,” the lineman answered. “Why can’t you do that?” an animated Gross demanded. “Cause Javier has the receiver on the drag pattern and nobody else is back there,” correctly answered the player. “So what do you do this half,” Gross quizzed. “Stay home and contain,” the player said. “Then do it, dammit,” Gross conclude, the correction of the mistake completed.

On the first possession of the second half, the same misdirection roll out by the quarterback was again attempted. This time though, the opposing signal caller was met head on by a “stay at home” Collicott and dropped, dammit, for a five yard loss.

The Bison gather for their pregame and halftime instruction on home game nights in the area below the north grandstands of their stadium. For 5 to 7 Friday nights a year, the location serves as a makeshift command center for the battle planning of the town’s teenage heroes. The other 360 or so days of the year it is a storage area for the grounds crew who takes care of the stadium. Amidst tractors, lawn mowers, hoses, crescent wrenches and other assorted tools; the team will assemble. Before each home game, as I stepped in to hear the coaches’ instructions, I always had a mind flash to the classic comedy movie Caddy Shack

The second plank of the formula for Bison success, which builds on the back of plank 1, is the organization of the large staff Gross oversees and how they contribute to both preparation and the game night execution of the team. For any given game, 6 to 8 assistant coaches will join Gross on the sideline, another three to four in the Press Box, communicating to the coaches on the sideline through radio headsets. The efficiency and the success of the instruction given to the Bison players is because the McCook coaches, when it comes to teaching football skills, are all on the same page. With many teams, when a player, either in practice or a game, receives instruction from more than one coach, the frustration of the athlete becomes apparent due to contradicting instruction given my multiple coaches. I have never once, either in practice or a game, seen that happen at McCook. The instruction is rapid fire in its delivery and to the point. It is most importantly consistent from one coach to the next. The correction is made, the grasp of the athlete’s understanding validated and the practice or game continues without interruption or delay.

The third plank is that Gross has an uncanny ability to place his players in positions where their skills will allow them to be successful. Gross does not ask his players to do things they can’t do. Bob Elder, a longtime local booster of the team, told me on my first trip to McCook, that over the years, he has seen Gross time and time again make personnel moves that have proved to be just the right assignment for both the player and the team. When Jake Schlager, arguably the Bison’s most irreplaceable player, broke his leg in week 9, Gross adjusted his playbook to accommodate Shlager’s replacement at tailback, Kyle Stewart. The junior is a talented hard runner, but he does not have Schlager’s speed. “We are not going to ask him to be Jake,” said Gross, the week before the Alliance playoff game, the first game plan that would not include Schlager. “You don’t replace that speed. We can adjust.”

The next plank is Gross’ loyalty to his upperclassman. Players growing up in McCook know that if they stick with the sport, training on the sub varsity levels as they are required too, that when they are juniors and seniors, there will be a spot for them on the varsity stage. They will have the chance to run through the Bison Helmet onto the green game field under the bright Friday night lights; before a packed and cheering stadium. It is the main reason that McCook will dress on game night 50 to 60 varsity players.

Next, Gross will listen to his trusted and able assistants. He loves to tell the self-deprecating story of his first year in McCook and his attempt to instill a Mouse Davis style wide open offensive passing game. It didn’t fit. “Wouldn’t have blame them if they would have fired right then for that stunt,” he says now, 14 years later. That off season, Gross sat down with his assistants and created the more vanilla veer style option offense that has become the trade mark of the McCook dynasty.

Finally, the consistency of Gross’ conservative approach to the game plan does not vary. McCook will run the football. If the Bison cannot control both lines of scrimmage, then Gross feels they cannot win. His defense philosophy mirrors that of the offense, also conservative in nature. Gross says that his defense will bend but not break. “We dink you to death,” is how he once described it to me.

For the McCook conservative approach to be successful, field position is an absolute for the Bison. They must be able to impose their conservative will on the flow of the game. Paramount to their ability to dictating game pace, year in and year out, lies with McCook having the best special team's play in the area. That is not just a happenstance of luck, but a cause and effect result of long term planning.

McCook begins training punters and kickers in Junior High. From a list of 15 or so kicking hopeful candidates in 7^th grade, the group will be pared to 2 or 3 survivors by the time a class reaches the varsity level.

Voluntary summer training sessions with professional kicking instructors develop the skills of the McCook specialists, not only kickers, but also long snappers and holders. The depth of the kicking ranks in this small high school speaks of the emphasis the coaching staff places on the importance of dominating the kicking game. In pregame warm up, the Bison will have three place kickers blasting 40 yard plus field goals, while on the other sideline will be a couple of punters launching 50 yard spirals. Twice this season, Matt Chitwood, whom Gross calls the best placekicker in the state, has won double overtime games for the Bison with walk off field goals. Gross, in August, also labeled his punter, junior Matt Collicott, as the best punter in the state. When Collicott was injured against Lexington, his back up, senior Tyson Carr, stepped in and for his first varsity game as the #1 punter, hit three critical 4^th quarter punts, ranging from 43 to 47 yards with 0 return yards, to keep Adams Central mostly pinned in their own end of the field for the decisive late minutes of a three point win. If Collicott is the best punter in the state, then his back up Karr is number 1A.

The importance of field position for a defense built on the principle of bending but not breaking was on display in the first round playoff game with Alliance. Twice in the first half, the visitors from the Panhandle broke 50 yard plays. However, both efforts began with the ball deep in Alliance territory, 80 to 85 yards from the McCook end zone. Eventually, neither long gain led to any points for Alliance, despite twice covering over half the field on one snap of the ball. The first ending with an Austin Cherry interception, the second on a missed field goal attempt. Due in large to winningthe field position battle, McCook raced from the gate to a dominating 21-0 first quarter lead. 

As the Sun rose over a breaking perfect weather day for high school playoff football in Linton, ND, I felt satisfaction in that I had unlocked the secret of the long term success on the grid iron of the McCook Bison: they don’t beat themselves and, with all due respect to the man from Alliance whose inquiry stimulated me to make constructive use of my time on an all-night drive through the Sand Hills; Gross is riding a 14 year lucky streak.

More of Our Interview with Coach Tom Osborne

Tom Osborne

Osborne explained to me that the roots of the walk-on program were set in pragmatic ground. “In the mid 70’s, the NCAA dramatically reduced the number of scholarships that Division I schools could award. It went from 45 initial football grants each year with no total limit to a limit of 105 total.  In 1978 the limit was lowered to 95 and in the early 1990’s to 85.”

The reduced number of scholarships meant that there were now a lot of high school players who may have the potential to play Division I football, but were now passed on due to the limit on scholarships . “That became the basis for starting our walk on program at Nebraska,” Osborne said. “There were years, especially when we still had freshman programs, that we might have 100 walk-ons. With numbers like that, you will always be able to find a few players, at least, who have Division I ability, but for some reason were overlooked out of high school.”

Nebraska quickly earned a reputation where a walk on would be given a real chance to compete for a playing spot. “We treated the walk-ons the same as we did scholarship players. The person who earned the spot in practice is who would play on Saturday. We would normally try and keep five to seven scholarships open each year to award to players who had come to us as a walk-on. We did a study over a five year period and it averaged that of our 60 players on our travel squad each year, 24 had come into the program without a scholarship.”

An added benefit, Osborne told me, was the way the program cemented the loyalty of the entire state to Nebraska football. “Football is a developmental game,” the coach said. “So much more than say basketball where most kids out of high school are ready to play. A small town Nebraska kid might not be physically ready to play at age 18, but give him a couple of years and get him into our strength program and he goes from 6’4 220 pounds to 6’4 290 pounds. Now he can physically compete. Our strength and conditioning program in the 70’s and 80’s was well ahead of most others. That really helped a lot of our small town Nebraska kids who came to us as walk-on lineman. We found a lot of good players that way. High school coaches around the state knew their kids would get a fair chance with us and would encourage their players to come here. Anytime you can play a lot of in-state young men,  that will create interest and loyalty in that boy’s home town and that loyalty will build over the years.”

But beyond the above mentioned benefits; roster depth and state wide interest, Osborne said that the most important contribution the walk-ons gave to the NU program was the culture it created in the locker room. “I always felt we had the hardest working teams in the nation,” Osborne said. “Year in and year out, we would win because out kids just worked harder than they did at other schools. I contribute that to the tone set by the walk-ons. Just by the nature of a young man who is willing to turn down a scholarship at other schools, and many did, to come walk-on here, with no promise of a scholarship, then that is a player who is confident in their own abilities and is going to overachieve. They are going to be hard workers. Remember, we had so many of them, often times 40% of our roster. If you are a scholarship player and you see a guy without a scholarship who plays your position who is working twice as hard as you are, then that is going to get your attention. You can either buy-in and pick up your effort level, or you will not be around here very long.”

A Signature Play

photo by Alan Hale

Canadian defense grounds Stratford running game



Many times, fair or unfair, teams such as Canadian, who utilize a wide open offense build around the forward pass will be given the label of a “finesse” team, or even more damming in the manly world of football, a soft team; one that does not like contact. Koetting knew that in regard to his team, nothing could be farther from the truth. He knew his defense was a fearless hitting machine. Their team pursuit when flying to the ball was a real strength that would be invaluable as the playoffs progressed. Even though his line was often out sized, on both sides of the line of scrimmage, Koetting grew more confident as the season progressed that they were capable of succeeding on the highest levels of Class 1 play. His young line was coming together on the offensive side, while the defense anchored in the middle by seniors Ty Morrow and Salvador Escambia, now reinforced by the return from an early season injury of senior linebacker Colton Cades, had been solid all season.

Still, the Wildcats had lost three times when, in each game, they had not taken advantage of last second opportunities to win. Late minute letdowns, on both offense and defense, had proved fatal in all three losses. Koetting harped all week to his team that he needed someone to step up when the game was on the line and make the big play, make a statement. We have play makers, so let’s see those play makers make plays, was the challenge he issued.

“We need that opportunity, with the game on the line, to show that we have people who will step up and bust somebody in the mouth when we need to.” That opportunity, in perfect fashion, would present itself against the Elks, and the Canadian player to lay down the hammer would be an unlikely candidate.

With 2:02 left to play in the game and Canadian nursing a precarious 3 point lead, Stratford faced a 4th and 1 at the Canadian 25 yard line. A little long for a game tying field goal attempt, the Elks, a macho self-styled  team who had for years prided themselves on winning the battle in the trenches, had the Canadian defense on its heels, methodically picking up 5 to 8 yards per pop, inexorably moving down the field for what they intended to be a game winning touchdown . There was no doubt what their choice for a 4^th down play would be.

The script was playing out eerily in the same scenario that had seen the Wildcats lose earlier to both Perryton and Sunray: the offense had been inside the red zone with the lead and under five minutes to play. A score in either situation would have given Canadian a two possession lead and probably sealed the win. In both games, the offense failed to produce points. In both games, the defense then allowed the opposition to march down the field for the winning score. Here we go again.

But tonight would be different.  Coach Carr had his defense in a short yardage alignment and had inserted an extra lineman, Camron Pearson, a 5’7, 225 pound senior fire plug. Having seen little playing time early in the season on defense, Pearson made the most of this opportunity, meeting Elk’s running back Alex Chavoya square in the hole at the line of scrimmage and emphatically pile driving him backwards for a classic “pancake” take down tackle.

Game Canadian.

It was a signature play, a season defining effort. The Cats had shown they could go toe to toe with a physical team, slug it out for 48 minutes, and come out the victor.

A big old kid that never stopped being a kid

One particular monster loss brought the Bison nation to its knees, cutting much deeper than any disappointment on the scoreboard: the death of long time and popular assistant coach Ron Coleman. “Ron was my right hand man. He was here when I got here and was deeply rooted in the community. Everyone like Ron and everyone respected him. He was just so special to so many people. He taught me so much,” says Gross. “He and I ran the offense together, but I learned so much form him, about both football and people.”

                                         

On November 29, 2004, shortly after a heart breaking last second loss in the state finals, a setback that denied the Bison a third straight state title, tragedy struck suddenly. “I was going over to pick up Ron at his house,” recalls Gross, still obviously emotional seven years later when recalling the event. “He was going to ride with me to Lincoln to an awards ceremony. It was on a Sunday.  I couldn’t get anyone to answer the door, so I walked around back and that is when I found him.”

Coleman had climbed onto the roof of his house to dislodge some ice that had formed overnight. Somehow, he had slipped and fallen, resulting in serious head injuries. “Ron was still alive when I found him,” says Gross about his 52 year old colleague. “We got him to the hospital, and they airlifted him to Omaha, but by the next day, he was gone.”

The news of Coleman’ death spread quickly and was a punch in the collective gut of the town of McCook. The community went into shock. "I still remember it taking several days for the fact he was gone to settle in. It was like a bad dream,” says Gross.

“We are so close as a town and this was just so tragic and so unexpected,” recalls Max Bordersen. “RC taught elementary PE. The kids loved him, he was a big man (6’5”, 240 pounds), but he was just a big old teddy bear to those kids.” As those elementary kids have grown and moved up to the high school, Coleman’s name has not been forgotten, says Bordersen.

At a mid-season practice in 2011, John Gumb, the veteran of the McCook staff, with almost 40 years of service to the Bison program, recalled his longtime friend and colleague, “If RC were here right now, and he would be almost 60 years old, he would be right over there with the punters, his right shoe and sock off, out kicking everyone. That is just how he was; a big old kid that never stopped being a kid. He was one of those people that everyone loved just being around him. That is why everyone loved him."

As Bordersen noted, many of the current Bison came under Coleman’s influence when they were elementary students. Even today his legacy and influence, seven years after his death, lives on. “I know there have been times coaches have referred to Ron’s memory when challenging our players to meet a problem head on. He had that kind of influence on people,” says Gross.

Even the Women are Pissed Off.

Even the Women are Pissed Off

The date is a little hazy and so is the location. In fact, they can’t even all agree if it was an 11 man game or a 6 man contest. What they do agree on is that the ole boy was big, dressed like he just got off a tractor; and he was clearly not happy.

I am having 7 am coffee with seven veteran high school football officials. The group represents 70% of the high school officials in the McCook, NE area. There are two five man crews, located out of McCook, that have worked high school games together for years. Between the seven men, they have 209 years of high school football officiating experience. Arthur Skinner is the long tooth of the gang, with 40 years of blowing his whistle on Friday nights. Nick Johnson is the pup, with a mere 12 years in stripes. The others are Bob Elder (31 years), Brian Esch (26 years), Jim Hall (31 years), Paul Wood (24 years) and Darren Esch (25 years).

The unhappy farmer approached the crew as they departed the field for the half time break, and gave them the line that would become their manta, of sorts, for future self-evaluations of their craft: “you guys are so bad,” the farmer said, “even the women are pissed off.”

Since then, I was told by the group, “We now evaluate ourselves after each game by comparing notes and seeing if we had pissed off the women.”

That type of camaraderie is why both crews go out in every type of weather imaginable for the privilege of been the target of outrage from half of the crowd almost every Friday night from August to November. All agreed they got into officiating because they loved playing the game in high school and wanted to stay involved. The pay, about $75 a night, is for certain, not a driving motivating factor.

Several mentioned they had considered coaching, but for various reasons, had gone into other lines of work. Sometimes, their occupations can overlap with their officiating duties.  Paul Wood is the County Prosecutor. He recalls a time, “years ago,” when the star of one high school team was in jail. Wood was scheduled to work the “big game” that Friday night. “I worked the game. He stayed in jail,” laughed Wood. Bob Elder owns several successful sporting goods stores throughout southwest Nebraska and northwest Kansas areas. He is chided by his partners, “we always got to go find Elder to get the game started. He’s always over on the sideline somewhere trying to sell a coach some shoes.”

With so many years of officiating experience at this impromptu breakfast, as can be expected, the anecdotal stories flowed like the early morning coffee:  A coach in 6 man that still wore his high school letter jacket on the sideline’s during games; a mismarked field that when the first down chains were placed on the 10 yard line and stretched to the goal line, went three yards deep into the end zone; a contest interrupted by two dogs on the field during the game “making puppies;” an official with a medically implanted penis pump that for some reason malfunctioned during the game; and so on.

Both crews are highly regarded around the state and are often given the assignment of working the biggest games in the area, including several state championship contests. “We don’t ever have them,” says McCook Coach Jeff Gross, “because they are all from McCook, but I know both crews are well respected by coaches around the state. They are two of the better crews.”

The relationship with coaches, all present agreed, was important. Brain and Darren Esch both recognized that the roles of both officials and coaches were interwoven in that both were in service to the young people on the field. “Football is a great learning experience and that is why we are out there, for the kids,” Darren Esch said, while recognizing that the role of the coach is more deep and committed, - a coach is involved in a vocation that is his livelihood; while an official takes a couple hours a week to follow a avocation that caring for his family is not dependent upon. “Coaches are under a lot of pressure,” said Brian Esch, “we know that and respect that.”

Arthur Skinner, with his 40 years of experience, was asked about the changes he has seen over the last four decades. “The players are so much bigger, so much faster and so much stronger than they were when I started,” said Skinner. Credit the upgrade to weight training, says Skinner. “In the old days a 250 pound lineman was often just a kid who was way overweight, fat. Today, that 250 pounder is likely (to) be nothing but solid muscle. The collisions on the field now are so much more physical than they use to be. And then of course, the issues with using the head as a weapon, the big concern today with concussions. The game today is just so much more physical, so much faster than when I started.”

All agreed that the lack of younger officials entering the trade is a concern, especially for McCook. “These guys have been together so long,” says Nick Johnson, speaking of 12 years prior, when he first picked up his whistle, “it is hard to break someone new in.” The problem with getting new people involved, says Elder, is timing. “Every game counts,” he says. “There really is no place for a guy to learn without the pressure of making a call that might be the wrong call and cost a team a game.” That, all agreed, is a problem in a job that you are expected to be perfect your first game, and then improve as you become more experienced.

Jim Hall noted the watershed effect that is going to hit the area in the not too far distance. "Most of us got started about the same time and for a lot of years we have taken care of the schools and they know we are here. When we get out, it will be around the same time for all of us and it is going to take a lot of new people to take our place, or there will be a big void. And that day is not that far off. We really need to start training some younger guys, the next wave, so to speak.”

Football officials execute their duties, when compared to their basketball bretheran, in relative obscurity. With the exception of a pass interference call (or no call), most often a football official will not be in the sight lines of the spectators or participants. “We like it that way,” Johnson said. If after the game, no one can remember who the officials were, then they have done a good job. Johnson is the only one of the group who currently officiates basketball.  “In basketball,” he said, “the officials get a lot more notice. Sometimes that can lead to guys in basketball who are out there with big egos. That can cause problems. People did not come to watch the officials. We need to remember that,” he said.

So why do they do it?  To get it right, says Skinner. “That is a good feeling after the game, when we know we did the best we could. We hustled, we were in position and we gave the players a good effort. We are a part of the game, a part that without us the game couldn’t take place.” Edler concurred, “We take pride in doing our job with the best effort we can give. That is why we go out there each Friday night.”

How long will they continue? All seven answered, with non-committal laughs and shoulder shrugs- inconclusively.  My best guess; as long as there are women to piss off, these guys, for as long as they can, will every Friday night in the fall, don the stripes, warm up the whistle and do their duty.

Riding the Storm Out: a year of inner city high school football

Several have asked about the first book in our series on high school football; Riding the Storm Out: a year of inner city high school football. You can view the work at http://www.stlhsfb.com/  You can also order the book as well, through paypal. All orders are shipped within 24 hours.

Continue to follow our blog on Highway 83 football. Plans are to have the book on this project; Rushing the Line: the amazing connection between good football and winning economies at America's 50 yard line.

Homecoming in McCook, NE

Senior Queen Candidates

The Senior Homecoming Queen Candidates for Friday night are: Kalie Kennedy, Amanda Fuchuck, Kelsey Collicott, Elizabeth Wilcox, Betsey Hardin and Emily Tolliver. The MHS student body will vote on Friday for the winner and the Queen will be announced after the completion of the game vs. Adams Central.

I have a friend, whom by any social measurement of her life’s accomplishments, would be labeled an unqualified success. Still a few years on the sunny side of 40, she can look back at a life that has displayed across the board achievement. In particular, her school days are a resume that would make anyone jealous. A widely decorated athlete and an accomplished scholar, she won it all. All-State on the courts and track, combined with top academic standing in her class, she was the quintessential golden girl every parent dreams of. 

One night, in a rare moment of vulnerability – perhaps due to inhibitions loosened by the lubrication of a few malt beverages - she made a startling revelation to me about herself. All of her high school awards and accomplishments, she told me in a whisper, she would have gladly traded for the one honor that eluded her in her high school days of glory; “I always wanted to be Homecoming Queen, ever since I was a little girl” she admitted in a sad voice, little tempered by the passing of 20 years, “I dreamed about it, but I didn’t make it. I would gladly have traded every other honor I won to just be Homecoming Queen.”

The celebration of Homecoming in small town high schools across this vast nation is a community rite of passage and the social event of the school year. It is a time of not only celebration, but of amazing transformation. A farm wagon, used 364 days a year for the mundane chore of  hauling hay, on one magic Friday night each Fall, becomes –with the generous application of crape paper - a throne worthy of royalty, a setting for the Queen and her court. A sleepy town square, dusty and empty on most days, is now a “parade route,” lined with the town’s young and old; those who dream of what will be and those who remember what once was.

The highlight of the week’s long celebration, the one moment no one will miss and the most breathtaking transformation for the town to witness occurs during the halftime introduction of the Homecoming Queen candidates. Girls who come to school each day sans makeup, dressed in their normal attire of jeans and tee shirts, or after school in their volleyball practice gear; now take the spotlight. Wow. They are, for that one shining night at least, the best the town has to offer, the fairest maidens in the land. Dressed in total splendor, hair done just right, evening dresses, elaborate makeup and stylish shoes; no expense spared, they command attention. A proud but nervous dad, searching but failing to find the right words to confront what he has long tried to ignore; the reality of his little girl maturing into a women, will awkwardly offer, “cleans up nicely, don’t she?”

36 inches short of immortality

The almost legendary Spencer Bruntz at Wednesday's practice

With 14 second left in regulation, Lexington set up for a 28 yard chip shot field goal that if successful would derail McCook’s hopes for an undefeated season. Gross called timeout and rallied his kick block defensive unit. “I have a feeling, I have a strong feeling we are going to block this kick,” he told his players. His intuition was dead on. Senior lineman Spencer Bruntz broke through the center of the line to cleanly block the kick and scoop up the resulting loose ball, setting the stage for a play that was both incredible and comical, and would come within one yard of being miraculous.

After the blocked kick, since the ball had not crossed the line of scrimmage, it was live and could be advanced by either team. The ball Buntz was holding was still in play. He stood in the middle of the field, for an instant, unsure of what to do. His teammates were celebrating the block while the Lexington players, heads down, retreated to their sideline to regroup for the overtime session. Bruntz stood alone, holding the live ball!

Coach Gross jumping up and down on the sideline like a man on fire, motioning for Bruntz to run, finally caught the lineman’s attention. “So I thought, alright, I will run with it,” Bruntz said after the game. With an unexpected once in a lifetime opportunity to be a hero dropped in his lap, into the wind, towards the Lexington end zone, he rambled, 80 yards to victory.

Doing his best rendition of “run, Forest, run,” Bruntz ran down the sideline past the Bison bench. Suddenly, he picked up an escort, Coach Gross. Caught up in the moment, adrenaline flowing and perhaps the theme of Chariots of Fire blaring in his head, the coach ran stride for stride with Bruntz. After pacing his would be hero for 40 yards, Gross’ brain finally caught up with his body, announcing “you are 43 years old and not in the best of sprinting shape,” abruptly grounding the coach in mid stride with what was later diagnosed as a hamstring pull.

Alone now, Bruntz still had 40 yards of open field ahead of him and one alert Lexington player, Quarterback Jeremy Callahan, sprinting after him. The Minuteman had an angle on his prey, the lumbering Bison lineman dead in his sights, but the pursuer was still a good 10 yards behind. It was going to be close.

                                              

Charitably described by his coach after the game as not the fastest guy on the team, Bruntz began to lose steam 20 yards from the end zone and what would be the most unlikely game winning touchdown in the history of Bison football. “I kept thinking I am almost there, keep going,” Bruntz said after the game. “When I got to the 10, I thought about diving into the end zone, but then I thought, if I don’t make it and land short, everybody will be laughing at me.”

As Callahan closed in for the tackle, Bruntz using his last ounce of energy lunged for the end zone pylon. At that last possible instant, Callahan caught the McCook lineman’s left leg, spinning him off balance and forcing Bruntz out of bounds at the one yard line.

As crazy a play as anyone in the McCook crowd could ever remember witnessing was over. In its’ wake lay a hobbled coach 40 yards up field and an unlikely hero 36 inches short of immortality. Overtime.