There was concern about whether the state championship football game in Kalispell would draw a big crowd. Following the Class AA semifinal game, some boosters from Glacier High School expressed worry over low attendance, with the lack of local enthusiasm attributed to everything from the cold temperature to the relatively recent school split.
But on Friday, Nov. 21, attendance at the first high school championship game held in Kalispell since 1980 was a problem for the opposite reason. There were too many of us.
Ten minutes before kickoff, I parked four blocks from Legends Stadium and began hustling toward the field. Near the entrance, a bus attempting to make a tight turn on the car-lined streets had struck a parked vehicle’s bumper and officers were directing traffic around the scene. The line to get into the game was at least 100 fans deep when Glacier and Great Falls C.M. Russell began playing.
That line moved at a snail’s pace as the facility, with just one ticket booth at each entrance, was ill prepared for so many late arrivals. Glacier scored before the line had shortened at all, and by the time I walked through the gates there was just 4:10 left in the first quarter.
The packed metal grandstands, which hold 3,400 fans, shook as I walked underneath them to join the spectators lining the fence at the south end zone.
It was truly a Montana moment.
Moms and dads standing in the overflow section near the sidelines, yelling, “Here we go boys!” Kids lining up to buy mini donuts. Teenagers wearing shorts even though it was cold enough to see their breath.
I stood next to a father and son from Libby for most of the first half and listened as they discussed the rules of the game. For an hour, as we cheered in unison, I felt like a kid again. I’ve always loved this game. I grew up with it, although I was never any good at playing it.
In high school, my brother started at fullback for University High School in Spokane, and the game was a large part of our family’s lives. We watched him every Friday, although Mom struggled seeing him get banged up playing such a brutal position. We then watched him on Saturdays at Whitworth College.
I recalled those games walking the sidelines in Kalispell last week, seeing whole families bundled up under a single blanket; listening to the student section perform various cheers; and watching the crowd dance to House of Pain’s classic rap, “Jump Around.” Once the second half began, the game was never in doubt, and I joined our sports reporter on Glacier’s sideline. Despite the lopsided score, few left the stadium as the fourth quarter waned.
Over the PA, with 3:20 left in the fourth quarter, the announcer told students not to rush the field. I high-fived the mascot as the final seconds ticked away before fireworks lit up over the stadium. It’s true, most of the parents in attendance were affiliated with Glacier High School. But there were several Flathead High parents there, too. And there were lot of people like me – unaffiliated with either school who simply wanted to witness a Kalispell team win its first state championship since 1970.
In the end, it was a decisive victory. The final score was 56-19, and about 4,000 people were there to witness it. They witnessed a group of kids, many who won their first and last championship in anything and several others who played the last football game of their lives.
It was worth the long wait in line. For a few hours anyway, the rest of us got to feel like kids, too.