Upon completion of my final high school basketball season, the school officials took my uniform, passed on my jersey number to some other undersized point guard and left me with my memories. They couldn’t take those and never will. I’m stubborn. I hope this graduating class of Flathead Valley athletes is as stubborn as I am. These memories are so important.
I’ve never been too interested in taking part in the time-honored male tradition of sitting around a living room and lying about my days as a high school athlete. But sometimes, just to show my peers that I’m not soft, I’ll share an embellished tale of high school glory and they’ll grunt in appreciation. As our waistlines grow and our reflexes slow, we are reminded how important these stories are.
I remember every detail of my final shot as a high school basketball player. Down by two points in a divisional game against Lewistown, our coach drew up a designed play for me. Everything went as planned: the double screen, the cut to the middle of the floor, the pass, the catch, the drive to the top of the lane.
With the stars aligned, I promptly missed. This, I thought, would be my legacy. It is impossible not to overstate the moment when you’re 17 and you just played the last game of your senior year.
But it turns out that nobody, save for a few friends and probably my coach, remembers my errant shot. I was able to forge another legacy for myself after all. What matters, though, is that I remember it. Similarly, I recall each final moment of every other athletic endeavor from my youth and so much else from my four years of high school sports. You remember the good and the bad, but over time it all tends to feel good.
Today I live vicariously through the tremendous high school athletes that I write about. It’s truly a great deal for me – I love writing and I love high school sports. I take great pleasure in telling these kids’ stories. They’re infinitely more intriguing than the living-room lies of my peers.
This graduating class of 2009 is special. I’ve watched them, interviewed them and cheered for them for my two years at the Beacon. When the grind of reporting on local government or civil lawsuits begins to wear on me, I look to these kids. They provide such a joyful balance to my job and I feel compelled to thank them.
They are Ben Cutler and Drew Coco. They are Kate Klundt and Emilee Hashley. They are Bryce Stacy, Colt Idol, Donny Tudahl, Brock Osweiler, Cameron Clevidence, Roxy Thurman, Heidi Windauer, Alyssa Ladenburg and Kayla Smart. They are Whitefish’s Wiley twins. They are Claire Morison, Lindsea Vaudt, Megan Olszewski, Amanda Milliard, Larry Iverson III, Mackey Nolan, Phil Rempe and Tyler Thomas.
They are talented, ambitious and too numerous to fully list in this short space. And they are the pep in my step when the rigors of adult life have taken their toll. They deserve a thank you.