Cover Painting Artist / Brooklyn Nelson / Two Harbors High School / Class of 2026
The expanded Photo Gallery can be found by clicking here: Photo Gallery: Every Day is Game Day
Table of Contents
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
Pericles, Ancient Greece Politician – Referenced in “Legacy” by James Kerr
Posted on the wall inside Miles P. Henderson Field House in Canadian, Texas.
Chapter 1: 30 Picture Mom
The mother of a young football player awakened before sunrise on Saturday to post 30 pictures from last night’s high school football game on Facebook and Instagram.
Every town has that Mom. We all know her.
No, not the Mom you’re thinking of. The other one. A different Mom. Not the Mom whose son scored a touchdown last night. Not the Mom of the boy who represented the team at midfield for the coin toss. Not the Mom who sits center-stage in the bleachers for each game.
Look over there—to the far edge of the bleachers. There she is. A bit isolated. Quiet. Not much to cheer about. Her son wasn’t in the starting lineup. He didn’t catch a pass or make a tackle. Her son’s name won’t appear in the local newspaper or online. Her son was in uniform, participated in pregame warmups, then didn’t step onto the field again until the postgame handshake line. Her son didn’t play in the game.
Yet, 30 pictures.
Who is this Mom?
She’s my favorite Mom: “30 Picture Mom”
Pictures of the touchdown makers are great. Achievement deserves to be celebrated. The boom, bam, whack pictures of a boy making a tackle are fantastic. Worthy of honor. The pictures shared by “30 Picture Mom” contain none of that.
You click or swipe from the fifth picture to the sixth, then the seventh. You’re picking up on the vibe by 17, then 18, then 19. You’ve ripped through all the pictures, but pause at picture 30. The final picture. One of several taken after the game. “30 Picture Mom” is standing beside her son. She won’t have to clean his uniform today—there’s no mud on it. There’s no “game ball” in his hand. But in picture 30, there’s something more important in his hand.
It’s his Mom’s hand. Squeezing tight, just like on that first walk to kindergarten.
“30 Picture Mom’s” camera has portrait mode, landscape mode, and—unique for her, future mode. In those images, we see last night—she sees tomorrow. Those 30 pictures convey the emotions of a Mom so damn happy her son is part of something good, something positive, something life-impacting. She knows he’s in good hands—beyond her own. She knows she can partially let go and let others help guide him through this part of life.
Thirty pictures of comforting happiness.
Having no children of my own, I can only imagine the feeling.
I imagine it to be amazing
Chapter 2: Penance
When a high school football game ends, the scoreboard tells a story.
Our town, this many points.
Your town, that many points.
We win, you lose.
You win, we lose.
Turn off the lights. Time to go home.
The scoreboard indeed tells a story, but it doesn’t tell the entire story.
Neither does the game story in the local newspaper, the brief video highlights on the sports segment of the nightly television news, tweets on “X,” nor recaps on other click-thirsty digital platforms. It’s all much better than nothing. Well-intentioned people staying in their lanes to tell templated stories within the constraints of their medium.
I was part of it.
I’ve written a hundred stories about high school football games. I’ve written the “hero ledes,” cited the turning points, honored the touchdown makers and turnover takers, shined light on “the winners,” offered only shade to “the losers.”
Wide left, wide right, every story missing the extra points—never encapsulating the big picture, never conveying the off-field impacts, never highlighting the vast number of people who enable these games to happen, nor featuring those whose attendance catalyzes inspiration for their future, or those whose emotions are stirred when decades of tomorrows have become a lifetime of yesterdays.
Always missing those things that put unity in community.
This story is my penance.
I previously stayed within the strict journalistic boundaries of the newspaper “stringer” role. It was time to step out of bounds, move outside my comfort zone, and—in the process—be moved in ways like never before by strangers, teachers, students, coaches, elementary school children, military veterans, and senior citizens bracing against frigid northerly winds to wave goodbye to a school bus while waving their team’s flag. Amid football season, life’s seasons presented their virtues at every turn.
This story crosses America from north to south, border to border. It begins where my life began and culminates where the bounce-back from one of my biggest jolts commenced. This is the game day story of two small towns, unrelated, miles apart, stereotypical opposites, but whose cultural fabric is woven with common threads.
This is a story of two towns where happiness still happens.
Chapter 4: Whatever We Look For
I recently sat beside a football field in Texas when a coach offered the following thoughts:
“I now realize we will find whatever we choose to look for in this world. We can choose to find the bad among the good, the negative amid the positive. Or, you can find the good in almost everything. We’ll find exactly what we’re looking for.”
He was right.
A few minutes of introspection led me to a quick self-assessment: I’d been stuck in a rut. The daily newspapers and nightly news anchors were pulling me to the bottom. I’d become jaded–confined by a narrow view of the world. A self-inflicted lousy case of tunnel vision. Left to my own devices, I turned to my devices–my television, laptop, and iPhone. Those screens; my life.
Predictably, while immersed there, a dismal perspective emerged.
Bad news far outweighs good.
That’s what I thought.
It’s no longer what I think.
I decided to look for a good story. I immediately found it. I then wanted to find another good story—an addendum to the first. I immediately found it. The “we will find whatever we choose to look for” philosophy proved true.
I just needed to become a kid again. Go outside. Be curious. Explore. And do the forbidden–talk to strangers.
Strangers then. Friends now. My life improved. I hope they feel the same.
Where did I find those good stories? The first was at a high school football game. The second, at a different high school football game. I promise to venture further from my comfort zone for my next story.
Heck, I can’t lie. Baseball is next.
The common denominator in the stories I stumbled upon was groups of people in two small towns admirably helping kids get off to the best possible start in life. Derivatives of their efforts are the cross-generational connections established in each city.
Uncharted territory? I asked around. It’s not common.
As I watched them help others, they helped me. When you tell the good stories of others, something good happens within you. After all, positivity begets positivity. Their happiness became mine. Their compassion worth noting–worth sharing–worth emulating.
The experience legitimately changed me. That’s no token platitude. I’m reminded of Jack Nicholson’s mic-drop line in “As Good As It Gets.”
“You make me want to be a better man.”
Read that again. Replace “You” with “They.”
While writing this story, I’ve often thought of Vince Lombardi. Echoes of one element of Lombardi’s introductory speech as head coach of the Green Bay Packers reverberate around the football programs in the two small towns where I’d be entrapped. Lombardi stood before his team, then declared his lofty intentions:
“Gentlemen, we will chase perfection, and we will chase it relentlessly, knowing all the while we can never attain it. But along the way, we shall catch excellence.”
I didn’t go searching for perfection. Heck, a ray of light would have sufficed. I found far more than I imagined. Enough to even make Lombardi happy.
No town, team, school, or individual is perfect. But honorable people are trying.
This is their story.
Chapter 12: Turning Point
At the turn of this century, the sport of football at Two Harbors High School was in dire straits. Low participation. Community apathy. Headwinds increasing annually. This was an athletic program approaching the crossroads. Other teams in Minnesota previously traversed this road. For some, it became a dead end.
Game over. Lights out.
These were astonishing circumstances for a football program that earned a reputation for excellence from the 1960s into the early ‘80s. Back then, when “The Committee” put Two Harbors on your schedule, you knew your school would have its hands full. As their mascot implied, the Agates were a tough, rugged, weathered team to play against.
But now, the Agates’ ship was taking on water.
A skateboarder, who’d probably never thrown or kicked a football, let alone put himself in the path of a linebacker, unwittingly lit the spark of cultural change and consequently may have saved football in Two Harbors.
Two boys were walking in the hallway towards the football locker room at the old high school on 4th Avenue. The skateboarder was ridiculing the other boy—a starter on the Agates football team.
“You guys suck. You’re going to get your asses kicked again on Friday night.”
Mr. Skateboard was giving him the business.
In an act of restraint, admirable to the likes of Mahatma Gandhi, the football player remained silent. Eyes forward. Kept walking. Resisted understandable impulses tilting towards violence.
Unbeknownst to both boys, an adult trailed close behind, easily within earshot. The adult was triggered long before “triggered” became ubiquitous in modern American vernacular. The adult was about to make Gandhi’s spirit nervous.
The adult stepped between the two boys, then gave Mr. Skateboard a lecture about bullying that Braveheart’s William Wallace would admire. He then reassured the peaceful one—the football player, that he’d always have his back.
At that moment, the adult confirmed his suspicions that he’d found his purpose in this life:
Pack leader. Part-time patriarch of this group of other people’s kids. Eleven years after graduating from Two Harbors High School, he was now a teacher and the newly anointed Head Coach of the Two Harbors Agates football team.
That adult was Tom Nelson.
Nelson recalled, “At practice after the incident in the hallway, I told the team, we aren’t looking to beat people up physically, but we have to fight for each other—we have to stand up for each other. If one of your teammates is in the same situation, we expect you to stand up for your brothers—your teammates.”
“In hindsight, they lacked confidence as football players at that time. They probably didn’t feel a strong sense of unity. Most were probably looking at me, thinking, ‘You’re nuts.’”
Nelson found his purpose but needed to identify the foundation for his platform. He initiated a search and rescue mission. Hiding amid the billions of neurons and trillions of synapses sheltered underneath his baseball cap were the coaching and leadership lessons he’d learned. As an athlete, he’d been coached by many. He’d been a basketball coach. He studied other leaders. Read books. Self-coached himself. Evolved.
But this football coach didn’t find his ultimate inspiration while reading about Vince Lombardi or Bill Belichick. He found it in church. Before his second marriage in the Catholic church, Tom was a willing participant in counseling with his future wife, Angie. During those sessions, Nelson was introduced to an expression around which the rest of his life would revolve:
“Forget about me; I love you.”
Forget. About. Me. I. Love. You.
Forget
About
Me
I
Love
You
F
A
M
I
L
Y
FAMILY
One word, and all it symbolizes, would be the North Star Nelson would chase. Other terms like culture, team building, and identity fit within the general construct, but “FAMILY” is the mother ship.
Nelson reflected, “I was thinking, why do kids in some areas join gangs? It’s because they want to be part of something. They want to feel like someone outside their family loves or needs them. We worked to create an environment where kids were welcomed, not driven away—no matter their size or strength. We intentionally placed our older, more experienced weight-lifters in groups with our younger student-athletes. This has been key for us to build mentorship opportunities, for the older kids to take more ownership in the program, and make everyone know they are part of our family.”
Everyone has a critic. While writing this story, one person insisted that Tom Nelson has his flaws. He’s made mistakes. He continues to make mistakes. But even the person criticizing Nelson acknowledged that Nelson seems to be pretty good at learning from those mistakes.
The person telling me about the imperfect Tom Nelson was Tom Nelson.
That self-awareness and introspection are reasons he’s perfect for his role. It took him a while to find his purpose in life. He chased it. He found it.
Some never do.
He now lives with the understated blessing of being anchored. He leads from a place of personal peace—his safe harbor. From there, the “forget about me” foundation is solid—it’s real. He’s no longer chasing for himself. He now chases for others. He’s not trying to become someone.
He’s already there.
Photo Credit: DMP Sports, Derek Montgomery
Chapter 15: Welcome to the FAMILY
On April 16, 1929, Major League Baseball’s Cleveland Indians became the first professional sports team to place numbers on the backs of jerseys. Thirty-one years later, the Chicago White Sox became the first team to put a player’s surname on the jersey backsides.
These innovations improved the game-day experience for broadcasters and fans. It became easy to identify the individuals. A prominent cliche eventually surfaced: “It’s not about the name on the back of the jersey; it’s about the (team) name on the front.”
Enter Two Harbors. It was no longer about either. It was less about the name of the town on the front or the name of the individual on the back—those didn’t exist. It was about the foundation.
The back-of-the-jersey nameplates of the Agates uniforms were now uniform: FAMILY.
Admittedly, when I saw FAMILY everywhere, I was skeptical. It’s easy to put a word like that on a uniform or a social media post, but are they doing anything to back up their words with actions?
It felt like this was too good to be true.
I’ve rarely been more wrong.
The foundation of FAMILY was identified. Implementing it wasn’t rocket science. Coach Nelson summarized the approach with a single sentence:
“There is a deliberate and conscious effort to get our team members—as many as we can, to understand the importance of making others feel as though they are welcomed into our football family.”
Three words in that statement stand out: feel, welcomed, and family.
Everyone can relate to the anxiety of walking into a room full of strangers. The sooner the anxiety balloon bursts, the better. Nelson, his wife Angie, and their coaching staff lead by example. Be nice. Take the first step. Break down the barrier. Introduce yourself. Listen. Learn about them. Show interest.
The evolution didn’t happen overnight, but this was not a fleeting whim. Nelson was committed. One by one, others bought in.
Nelson continued, “When the student body, community, and alumni noticed the changes, bleachers began filling up, and kids were proud to wear Two Harbors Agates apparel again. People were talking about games and had hope in their voices. But most importantly, they were proud of their football program and what it stood for. That was awesome to see. Our cheerleaders, band, and fans are fantastic. It all combines to create a family atmosphere and make the games an authentic American high school football experience.”
The on-field performance has also improved dramatically.
“Over the past years, we have been fortunate to win numerous conference championships. That hadn’t happened in Two Harbors since 1979. We have been section runners-up several times and Section champs in 2018 while making our first trip to the state tournament in 41 years.”
“We are not a powerhouse football program with multiple state titles, but I would like to think that we are well respected. Our kids work to be the best they can be, and with that, they represent themselves, their families, their team, their school, and their community in the best way possible. I have always believed that if you can get a player’s heart bought into what you are doing as a program—bought into our foundation of FAMILY, they will go farther than they ever thought they could.”
Once again, Tommy Dechantal offered his perspective as a high school sophomore and member of the Agates football team.
“A lot of the guys on the team are so close. Some people think you have to be blood to be family. I don’t believe that. Family is about love and loyalty. It doesn’t have to be about you actually being related to somebody. You can be family without that, and that’s what our team is because of our bond together.”
Chapter 16: More Than One Man
January 8, 2024 – Sammy’s Pizza – Hermantown, MN
Five members of the LCA/Marshall School co-op with Two Harbors agreed to meet to discuss football. Two fathers chaperoned. The lure was free pizza. The reward for me was a better insight into the environment surrounding the Two Harbors Agates football program. It didn’t take long for me to be impressed.
Josh Johnson, a sophomore at LCA and member of the Two Harbors Agates football cooperative, delivered a wisdom-beyond-his-years, unscripted dissertation to describe the environment:
"The Agates family isn't just about one person. If Tom Nelson was the only person advocating for this family there would be no family. It would just be a football team and a coach who has a really big dream. But because people respect coach, trust coach, rely on coach, and actually love him so much, they buy into what we call family—'forget about me I love you,' which means putting yourself down to lift someone up.
When the whole team does that, you get an entirely different level of competitiveness. People see that. We buy in because we know it works. It's worked in the past, and it works now. It can't just be Tom Nelson or it can't just be Jake Widdes buying into this.
It needs to be a team thing—it needs to be every single person on board at all times and I think every single person has adopted the mentality of keeping it going even when it's hard. Especially last year when we added Lakeview and Silver Bay to the mix. It was really hard to keep the family going. We figured it out, and we pushed through. We got over the adversity of having new schools with different people from different schools, and it was just a great season. This season, the family has gotten even better and bigger."
When Josh concluded, I asked myself: “What the heck was that?”
It took me a while to absorb the maturity and depth behind his comments. Coaches strive to develop culture. Few would reasonably expect one of their high school football players to convey its essence with such eloquence.
It didn’t stop with Josh Johnson.
Senior Jake Widdes, a Senior at Duluth Marshall, described his first moments as a member of the team following the Marshall/Two Harbors merger:
“There were about six of us from Marshall in the locker room in Two Harbors on that first day. The first things we were taught weren’t from the coaches or captains but by juniors, seniors, and sophomores who were already on the team in Two Harbors.
“They said there are two things you need to know about this team. It wasn’t about any football skills or positions or anything. It was: “Forget about me, I love you” and FTF Plus 3″ – For The Family Plus Three. Whatever you do, do three more. Reps (repetitions) in the weight room, three more. Reps on the field, three more. You do everything for the benefit of this family—plus more.”
“They said two things will get you as far as you possibly want to go in this program—not based on skill, not based on what you know, but based on what you believe in and how much you believe in it. Now that I’m a senior, I can say they were 100% accurate. Our coaches and fellow teammates look for that every year when they pick captains. They want four to eight people who truly believe in those principles. I think our ability to come together as a team has been the leadership not only in the coaches, not even necessarily in people with the titles of “Captain” but all the upperclassmen on the team that have experienced it.”
Jake’s dad, Josh Widdes, an assistant coach with the team, offered his perspective:
“As somebody who was involved as a student-athlete and as a coach in another program—I used to coach at Marshall for 12 years—as a parent coming in the first year, the first night they do “Father’s Night” and that was my first run-in with Two Harbors football. I walked up and knew a couple of people in the crowd but didn’t know many. Everybody came up and shook my hand. A couple of guys hugged me and said ‘welcome to the family.”
“I’m looking at it, thinking, is this a bunch hoo-hah-rah-rah? I’ve been involved in football for half my life. I’m thinking, “This isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen.” At the first game, we were sitting in the stands—actually in the student section—and the Two Harbors parents told us to come over and sit with them. Some might characterize it as “drinking the kool-aid” or “buying into the philosophy” but you’re not buying into anything—it just naturally becomes part of you.”
This family extends beyond the football locker room. It extends north to Silver Bay and southeast to Duluth.
The Pfeffer family of Duluth appreciates the environment and knows it extends beyond the football team. Nate Pfeffer said, “We have four kids: two boys, two girls—ages 7 and 11, and the cheerleaders in Two Harbors know who my girls are. We’ve even been looking for homes in the Two Harbors area because of things like the ‘forget amount me, I love you,’ family aspect of Two Harbors football.”
I’d previously met with five Agates football players at “Do North Pizza” in Two Harbors. Their stories established the foundation upon which the rest of this story was built. Is this “FAMILY” thing for real?
Agates football player Amir Ali offered the opening arguments: “I think it goes back to the “FAMILY” thing. Forget about me; I love you. We have to fight for each other when we are all on that field. It’s not just the linemen blocking, the backs running the ball, or receivers catching it. It’s not just the quarterbacks throwing the ball. It’s all of us being synchronized—coaches and players. We all have to do our jobs and fight for each other. At the end of the day, when we get off the field after going through all that with each other, that really ties us together as a team.”
Tommy DeChantal: “One of the best things is we have a good relationship and bond with our coaches. I feel like the coaches and players have a really good bond with each other. Much of that is due to those conversations before and after practice, our Thursday night dinners, going to Do North after the home games. We had a “Celebrity Day” at school, and instead of dressing up as a celebrity, I dressed up as one of the coaches. I just feel like the coaches and players have a really good bond with each other.”
Chase Pierce agreed, “The coaches make an effort to spend time with the players. It’s not like, “We are here to control you guys to play football.” Not at all. They often walk on and off the practice field with us. We talk about how school is going and other things like the Vikings, Gophers, or fishing. They work at building that bond with us.”
Troy Carlson shared insight about his trust in Coach Nelson and the other coaches: “I was involved in a difficult situation over the summer, but I was comfortable after it occurred to come forward and talk to coach. He understood and was supportive of my decisions—well, kind of,” Troy said while suppressing his laughter. He continued, “Coach Nelson makes everything feel like a safe space to talk.”
Amir Ali nodded in agreement, then summarized, “It’s like having an extra parent. The coaching staff really works to make us comfortable with them. We can talk to them, whether it’s about playing football or just life.”
A strong case could be made that the most consequential activities related to this team’s unity don’t occur on Friday nights—they occur on the adjacent practice field, on the bus rides, in the locker room, and at the team dinners–the places where those with every reason to be uncomfortable soon feel comfortable.
While writing this story, I’ve experienced many moments that will stick with me forever. The summations of the “Agates Family” experience offered by the high schoolers at Sammy’s in Hermantown and “Do North Pizza” in Two Harbors will reside near the top of the list.
Assistant Coach Andy Morsette, father of a football-playing freshman, offered his thoughts:
“When I think of football in Two Harbors, the first thought is FAMILY, but it’s more than that. This team has become part of the identity of this town. The program is well thought of. It’s respected. We build on that respect every year with the way Coach Nelson leads.
When you look at other communities, you see them try one slogan and then another, hoping something gains traction. It’s different here. FAMILY has stuck for 20 years now. Tom faced resistance in the early years but stayed with it because he firmly believed in it. The kids started buying in. The parents and community followed. His philosophy is the glue that holds everything together.
It takes everybody–the players, their family members, moms, dads, grandmas, grandpas, and guardians who take the kids to practice and weight room sessions. It also takes coaches who buy into what the leaders teach the kids.
Nelson sets the tone with the varsity team. Then we teach the same values to kids playing at every level–flag football, Pony League, and Junior High. At all levels, they break their huddles with “FAMILY!!” By the time they get to varsity, they have nothing to adjust to.
The young kids see how the varsity players act, how they carry themselves, how they treat others. It has to have an effect.”
"It's just kind of a love and respect thing we have for our coaches because our motto is "Family," and he's the leader, so we have this love and respect for him, and we feel obligated to show that by paying attention, listening and doing what he says. It's also respecting others—we all have to buy into it. Beyond our coaching staff, it's about respecting others because if you see your brother on the other side of the room paying attention, it makes you want to pay attention. Then somebody will see you, and they'll want to pay attention. We're not distracting them. We're not taking away from anybody else."
TWO HARBORS AGATES COACHES
None of this happens without an outstanding group of assistant coaches.
Left-to-right: Jim Anderson, Scott Libal, Ben Eliason, Mick Nelson, Bryan Carpenter, Kyle Anderson, Todd Beck, Bill Anderson, Tom Nelson (his head resting on top of Bill Anderson’s), Ryan McIntyre, Josh Widdes. (Several coaches not pictured).
Chapter 18: Stacking Wood
GAMEDAY – 10:00 am
Earlier, I mentioned something else that happened in the hours leading up to the Homecoming Game.
September mornings in Minnesota are a prelude to polar temperatures. The first morning chill of fall catches everyone’s attention. Winter preparations commence. Squirrels gather nuts. Bears make their beds—or something like that, in caves. Deer and foxes grow a thicker coat of fur. Canadian geese get out of town—perhaps some ride the wind to a city whose name resonates with theirs—Canadian, Texas.
Humans also prepare.
Early in the week, an elderly local citizen contacted Two Harbors High School. A pile of firewood had been delivered to their unsheltered backyard. Their wood-burning stove would keep their family warm and offset the costs of other heating alternatives.
“Could any of the kids from the school stack our winter woodpile for us?”
Two boys and their dad answered the call on Friday morning, hours before their 7 pm game. Two Harbors High School operates on a four-day schedule. There is no school on Fridays for the students. Eight hours available to complete their homework or just sit around playing mindless video games (writes a snobbish, grumpy old man who happens to know every single nuance of “Medal of Honor: Frontline” Playstation 2 video game. The “Derailed” mission is best). Or, perhaps the brothers and their dad would opt to use these hours to make a difference—to leave an impression—and, in their small way, to make this town a better place.
The family fell into traditional roles during this 46-mile round trip. Dad managed the gas pedal, brakes, blinkers, and steering wheel. The brothers would argue over the road trip playlist. This trip from “the country” would be sonically accompanied by country. One fought for Luke Combs—the other for Morgan Wallen. The young passengers were known to be swift, but their music wasn’t.
This was an exceptional day for all involved. The weather was unseasonably cooperative—68 degrees with a few clouds. The wood pile was stacked in short order. Later that night, one of the boys—a sophomore, played very well in the Homecoming game. The other brother scored four touchdowns. The father, who spent quality time with two of his sons during the day, coached his team to victory.
Pregame rituals of rest, stretching, and hydrating were taken to the woodshed.
Meanwhile, a local family felt comforted—by the warmth of their wood stove and the peace of knowing they weren’t alone.
Carter and Tate Nelson after stacking a wood pile taller than them on game day morning.
September 22, 2023
Chapter 19: It's Not About the Couch
“At the end of the day, it’s not about what you have or even what you’ve accomplished, it’s about who you’ve lifted up, who you’ve made better. It’s about what you’ve given back.”
The school administrator’s phone rang on Friday morning:
“Hello,” he answered.
“I’ve heard your football players sometimes assist local residents with projects. Is that true?” the citizen asked.
“We sure do. Other kids help, too. Basketball players. Cheerleaders, and others.”
“Well, how does it work?”
“You tell us what you need, and we’ll see if any kids are available. We ask you to limit your expectations to a maximum of two hours of their time. Some kids have other jobs, need to do schoolwork, and need time to be kids like we did when we were their age. We also ensure that we have at least one adult with the kids. Sometimes that’s a coach; sometimes it’s one of their parents.”
“Oh, I completely understand. I can’t believe they’d even offer two hours of their time. Does it cost anything?”
“No, we don’t charge anything—it’s a community service initiative. But if you’d like to make a small donation, that’s OK. We put that towards the budget to pay for sports uniforms and other equipment. So, what kind of work do you need to be done?”
“Well, my late husband and I cleaned our gutters for years, but I’m no longer confident about climbing the ladder alone. All the leaves have fallen from the trees, and I’m sure the gutters are full. Can they help with that?”
“Sure! Give us some time to round up a few guys, and I’ll get back to you. How soon do you need this done? “
“Oh, no hurry. Whenever they are available.
“OK, stay tuned.”
Fifteen minutes later, the administrator called the homeowner. “We’ve got three boys and a coach available tomorrow morning at 10:00. Will that work for you?”
“You’re kidding. You already found kids willing to help?”
“Yes, we have a great group of kids in town. They are happy to help. We even have one boy from Duluth Marshall who plays on our football team and volunteered to drive up here to help. We’ll bring our ladder.”
“Wait. Did you say he drives 25 miles from Duluth to help and then drives back home?”
“Yes. Other kids from Marshall and Lakeview Christian Academy and Silver Bay have come to Two Harbors to help with some of these projects.”
“Wow. Well, this is fantastic. I’ll be waiting for them tomorrow morning. Thank you so much.”
As promised, the boys and the coach showed up at 10 am, then clowned around a bit while cleaning the gutters and packing the leaves into large paper bags. Within 30 minutes, they were near completion of the job.
The homeowner handed the coach an unnecessary but much-appreciated donation. Then, the coach grabbed the ladder and loaded it into his truck. He turned around in time to notice some peculiar behavior.
The homeowner stood near the dwindling pile of leaves as the boys raked and bagged them. As each boy dumped a handful of leaves into the bag, the coach noticed a series of handoffs deftly performed reminiscent of the Agates Double Wing misdirection offense. One boy walked this way and appeared to have received a handoff. A second boy walked in the opposite direction and seemed to accept a similar handoff.
As the third boy approached the appreciative woman, the coach used his outdoor voice yet in a whimsical, lighthearted tone:
“Hey, what’s going on here?” he questioned.
The players, accustomed to following orders from their coach, now barked out the orders:
“You stay out of this, coach!”
“This is none of your business, coach.”
The homeowner expressed her appreciation by giving a few dollars to each boy. Later that day, rumors circulated that they’d seriously damaged a local restaurant’s inventory levels of chicken nuggets and French fries.
Help had been requested, provided, and appreciated. Strangers would forever become familiar faces—maybe even friends. Once again, the Agates Family expanded its reach. Some days are better than others. This particular Saturday started well for everyone involved.
"Since you get more joy out of giving joy to others, you should put a good deal of thought into the happiness you are able to give."
To extend the concept of “FAMILY” beyond the playing fields to the rest of the community, athletes/cheerleaders/other students have assisted in many ways:
- Moving families from one place to another
- Moving furniture, such as a dresser, from one room to another or moving exercise equipment.
- Raised funds for AEDs (heart defibrillators) for the school by hosting and serving a pancake breakfast at the Fire Hall.
- Friends of the Library – Each October, the library has a sale of excess books. This occurs in a conference room at the hospital. The books are boxed at the library, carried out to vehicles, and transported to and from the hospital. Anyone who has moved books knows this is hard work. The kids do this.
- It’s a longstanding tradition for the Masonic Lodge to make, bake, and sell pasties. Cheerleaders spend the entire day in the kitchen at THHS to assist in the making of thousands of them. For every person who grew up in Two Harbors, the day our parents and grandparents brought those home for dinner was one of the greatest days of the year. For the record, the pasties with rutabaga in addition to potatoes are the best.
- Serving meals for Veteran’s Day—and other events at the American Legion Post
- Serving meals for various events at the local Moose Lodge.
- Shoveling snow for local senior citizens
- Supporting the event when “Thomas The Train” rolled into town
- Assisting annually with crowd management for Grandma’s Marathon, an event from Two Harbors to Duluth, with 8,000 runners in 2023.
- It’s not just the athletes: The high school choir visited with—and sang to, seniors at the Barross Cottage Senior Living Community.
- As they’ve done since 2014, the THHS Trap Team placed United States flags beside the graves of veterans at Lakeview Cemetery on Memorial Day, 2024.
- In June of 2024, organizers of “Grandma’s Marathon”—a race with nearly 7,000 humans willing to run—not drive—but run 26.2 miles from Two Harbors to Duluth needed volunteers to install hundreds of feet of snow fence for race security. The work involves pounding fence posts into the ground. It’s hard work. Ten volunteers stepped up and got the job done. The volunteers were cheerleaders.
Chase Pierce said, “I like seeing the recognition people get on the Facebook page. It makes me feel good that I could help someone get something done to improve their life.”
Amir Ali:
“I’d have to believe it makes the people we helped feel pretty good. Maybe we get a few more fans of our football team. It extends our bond from our locker room and our coaches out to the community, and then they feel closer to us, so we have more support. It just creates a better overall vibe for the town.”
Mike Pierce, Chase’s father:
“It’s great to see them volunteering. I know people appreciate it. I know how hard it is to just move across town.
Troy Carlson:
“It’s scary when you mis-maneuver something, and it bumps into their wall! We moved an elliptical from a garage to a basement. We made sure there was nothing on the walls. We had to take paintings down to ensure that if we did hit the wall, it wouldn’t break anything. There were five or six of us, but only three of us could carry it at any one time because there were some tight turns in the stairway.”
Staying true to his much-appreciated comedic form, Troy Carlson said, “It was difficult, but I think we’d all volunteer to move another elliptical machine again. We know how hard it is for us younger guys to do this.“ Then, while looking at the far end of the table at Do North, directly at his Athletic Director—Scott Ross, Carlson added, “We can imagine how hard it would be for someone as old as Mr. Ross to do this.“
Hoping to capitalize on his one-on-one time with his AD, Carlson asked, “Mr. Ross, when can we get a real playlist for basketball games? I don’t want songs from the 1940s. I want modern music.“
After overcoming his laughter, Ross cited a situation where he’d received a voicemail from a local resident requesting help. Less than two hours later, when he called the resident back for additional information, they already had a crew of guys who’d volunteered for the job. The resident’s daughter had contacted one of the coaches directly. The call went out. The volunteers signed up.
While pointing to the football players at the table, Ross said, “These guys are amazing.“
Even Troy Carlson.
It’s impossible to watch college football games without noticing that most colleges have their team logo and smaller helmet stickers indicative of the athletes’ achievements.
If you grew up in the Midwest in the 60s and 70s, one of your earliest exposures to helmet stickers occurred while watching the Woody Hayes-led Ohio State Buckeyes. Stars like Archie Griffin, Cornelius Greene, Jack Tatum, Jim Stillwagon, and Pete Johnson wore helmets covered with those flowery-looking stickers. Multiple sources—including the ultimate insider—Two Harbors native Jerry Emig, “Associate AD- Football Communications,” indicate that helmet stickers are currently awarded to Ohio State football players based on the following criteria:
- Most importantly, Buckeye stickers are awarded for winning the game.
- Players also receive Buckeyes for grading out as a “game champion.”
- Each player also receives stickers based on achieving individual performance objectives.
That’s all good. The Two Harbors Agates award helmet stickers, too. The criteria are a bit different—none related to individual on-field performance.
- Community Service Hours
- Honor Roll
- Merit Roll
- Weight Room Participation
- Team Wins
The message the school administrator sends while requesting assistance from the student-athletes seems effective. Perhaps it’s a text message, something like:
“Is anyone available to help a resident move to an apartment on Saturday?”
If it isn’t already, perhaps the message should be:
“Is anyone available to make this town a better place to live?“
“Is anyone available to remind a resident they aren’t alone?“
“Is anyone available to make a difference in someone’s life?“
“Is anyone available to do something you’ll probably never forget?“
“Is anyone available to do something for a local resident that they will surely never forget?”
One family, who asked not to be identified, shared their thoughts:
“We hope the kids and coaches understand how much they are appreciated and how meaningful this is. It’s been years since they helped our family. Our appreciation hasn’t faded. We don’t take what they did for granted.
Like all of us, these kids will have ups and downs—some bad days. When they do, we hope they remember when they helped our family. We hope they remind themselves of the kindness they’ve offered others. We hope they know their kindness will forever be remembered and appreciated. Maybe it will serve as a boost for them. It sure has inspired us.
They moved our family member’s furniture from one apartment to another–the bed, dresser, clothes, desk, couch, and more. But this wasn’t about that couch. With each act of assistance, they unite this community. They are more than football players–they are good kids–learning important life lessons. Maybe even teaching adults some life lessons–like compassion and unselfishness. I wish we had done the same when we were their age. If one of the goals of their work is to illustrate the value of belonging to something bigger than themselves, then their mission was most certainly accomplished.
This town has something to be very proud of.”
In the early years of implementing the FAMILY concept, Coach Nelson decided to rally his athletes around the nobility of helping families move from one home to another. What was the deep-seated motivation for choosing that option? Honestly, I never asked him. It didn’t seem like a big deal.
Fifteen months after writing my first sentence, I made a final phone call. During that call, the pathway for Dot A to connect with Dot B, then Dot C became clear. I didn’t know I was missing a piece of the FAMILY puzzle. I accidentally found it.
Everything finally made sense.
Click on any of the images below then scroll left or right for enlarged, clear views of each picture. To exit the Image Gallery, click on the “X” in the upper right corner
Photo Credits: All photos below courtesy of “Two Harbors Agates Football” Facebook page.
Chapter 23: Checking the Boxes
"A good coach can change a game. A great coach can change a life."
Opportunities in this life are traditionally granted by how many boxes you can check. Are you this? Are you that? Do you know this? Do you know that? Have you done this? Have you done that? Each box checked opens another door. Unchecked boxes lead to speed bumps and dead ends. Individuals who might be capable of making a difference but unable to check that one key box are forced to knock on one dispiriting door after another—all while trying to find their place.
Then, someone comes along with their fingers on the societal scale of opportunity allocation—someone with a different view of the world and its people. They see individuals turned away and think:
“Maybe the problem isn’t the person. Maybe it’s the boxes.”
The scale-tippers associated with a football team in northern Minnesota follow a different methodology. Boxes traditionally reserved for rigid forms of pedigree-driven certification are supplemented with those representing empathetic forms of compassion. Rather than looking for ways to exclude, they make room at the table for those who can bring value to their team in non-traditional ways.
Sure, that “Did He Ever Play Football” box is on their list, but there are other boxes that most Head Coaches and Athletic Directors don’t include. Boxes like:
Does this person love football?
Can he make a difference in the lives of our team members?
Can we make a difference in his life?
Four individuals affiliated with the Agates’ coaching staff were able to handle those boxes with “check, check, and check.” None of those four individuals can check the following box:
“I Played High School Football”
Yet, at various intervals during the past 30 years, Todd Beck, Andrew Schreyer, Ben Eliason, and Kyle Anderson have adorned Agates’ attire on Friday nights while supporting the Two Harbors Agates football team and coaching staff.
For most, life isn’t best lived in isolation. It’s good to be part of something meaningful—something real—something fun. Listening to Kyle Anderson’s mom, Carol, is to understand that all those boxes are checked relative to Kyle’s affiliation with the Agates football team.
“We were just so fortunate to have raised him in Two Harbors. From elementary school on up, everyone has been so supportive. Even beyond Two Harbors, Kyle seems to know people from everywhere, all because of sports. There was a moment during Kyle’s senior year when he scored a three-pointer “granny style” at the end of a basketball game against Virginia. Their coach and team members understood what our coaching staff was trying to do and were “all in” with their support. When he made that basket, it meant so much to him, and it seemed to mean even more for Virginia players and coaches.”
“I can’t say enough about Coach Nelson and how he embraces the family concept. It’s just so huge because that’s exactly what it is. It’s “forget about me, I love you.” Kyle is now 34 years old. He didn’t go to school with any current football players, but they still have a strong connection. Last weekend, I asked Kyle what he’d miss most if he couldn’t be a manager anymore. Kyle loves football–he loves being at the games, but his answer was no surprise.”
“I’d miss my friends, Mom.”
Sophomore football player Zach Johnson said, “All I have to say is I love (those guys). They’re just the best. They’re super encouraging—nice—and funny. They are great to have around.”
Jake Widdes – Senior – Class of 2024:
“They add so much to our program in a way that most people don’t realize or wouldn’t think about. They add a lot of energy and take care of so many things to support us. It adds so much to our game. They’re so fun to have in the huddle during timeouts, and they just lighten the mood when you know things are going wrong. Coach Ben is out there providing his thoughts, and he’ll fix our equipment whenever we need it. They want to be active in our success, and having them there is so fun because they bring different elements and perspectives to our team. It just wouldn’t be the same without them.”
Josh Johnson added, “All I hear Kyle talking about is football! He’s probably the most bought-in person I’ve ever seen about this program. Kyle loves the team, loves everyone, and always talks about football. It doesn’t matter if it’s a high day, low day, win, or loss—he could put a smile on your face in just a few sentences. He’s an amazing person to have on the team, such an uplifting character, and someone who really improves our game by keeping us energized and not letting us give up. It’s awesome to have him on the team.”
They face the exact expectations as all team members, including discipline. During a game a few years ago, Todd and Kyle loudly expressed frustration with the team’s lackluster performance. Coach Nelson heard them voicing their frustrations.
Todd and Kyle watched the next two games from the bleachers while serving two-game suspensions. Coach Nelson offered them a “we’re all in this together and need to always support each other” speech, then suspended them.
This doesn’t prevail as a negative aspect of the story. Just the opposite. All of the guys involved look back and laugh about this learning experience. Carol Anderson appreciates that Kyle is held to the same standards as the football players. One everlasting takeaway is that the emotions expressed by Todd and Kyle exemplify how deeply they care about this team—and, in an unspoken way, how much they value their opportunity to be included.
Chase Pierce: “When they help us, it reminds us to always do the right thing and be better people, too. They’re just always positive—always encouraging us. We know that all of them want to help us. They’re constantly pushing us to do our best. They talk to us and listen to us. They are definitely contributing. It’s nice to know that even if they didn’t play on the varsity team when they were younger, they get to experience what it’s like to be part of a team like this. Our team wouldn’t be the same without Ben, Andrew, Kyle and Todd.”
Will Fransen agreed. “It’s nice to have so many people looking out for us. We know that all four have our back whenever we need them. They are always there for us on the sidelines to get us whatever we need. It’s nice to have these guys who never actually played football to have the chance to be part of this team. They always hype us up, and all our guys respect them.”
While talking to managers Ben Eliason and Andrew Schreyer, the word “opportunity” was often offered.
Eliason: “We’re like a big family. We work together as a team. We accept each other for who we are. Fridays allow us to come together and be a family, learning bonding skills in a safe, happy place. We work together and spend time together. If this didn’t exist, we’d lose all those opportunities. “
Regarding Tom Nelson, Ben said, “He was just what we needed. He also has all the assistant coaches on the same page. We are a family from the lowest on the totem pole to the top. No one is above another. Their titles might be different, but no one has been lowered. Everybody bought in, and everyone knows they gotta’ roll with it.”
Andrew Schreyer has been a manager for the past 18 years. He played youth football until a weight room injury sidelined him. He cited the importance of the many friends he’s made along the way—watching those kids grow and move on, some even coming back to town to coach.
“Now my wife is here, and she’s watching the games. It’s a wonderful opportunity to learn and experience things few other people would allow you to participate in. It’s all about the word on our hats—FAMILY. Getting together and giving guys a chance. If I didn’t have this opportunity, I would find another thing to do, but it wouldn’t be as fun, and I guarantee you it wouldn’t be as rewarding.”
Schreyer, a talented musician, even helps the horns section of the band when they are shorthanded.
Josh Widdes – Special Teams Coach:
“They bring a couple different elements to the team. As a coach, they will do whatever they can to help. They are there for us with all the best intentions. It’s important for the boys because there are all sorts of people in this world from all walks of life, and it helps them realize that sometimes people have some challenges. It’s helped these young men accept these guys and accept all people.”
If anybody was ever to say or do anything negative to any of those guys, you’d have about 55 football players that would (fiercely defend them). “
The half-dozen football players sitting at the table with us all agreed with Coach Widdes.
This is a good family.
Meanwhile, if you ever need a boost, drive up to the North Shore, stop in Two Harbors, and ask someone if they know where to find Todd Beck. They’ll know. Sit down for a cup of coffee with Todd, then ask him how he feels about his decades of association with the Two Harbors Agates football team, which includes Tom Nelson, the assistant coaches, and all the players.
My brief encounters with Todd remind me of a specific line from my favorite scene in “After Life.”
“Happiness is amazing. It’s so amazing; it doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not.”
Two Harbors Agates football makes Todd happy…really, really happy. It’s contagious. For me, Todd Beck is a game-changer. He doesn’t know that. Nobody does. Well—nobody aside from you and me. He puts this world in perspective. His presence reminds me to appreciate the people I’m surrounded with, the opportunities I’ve been given, and the importance of belonging.
Todd checks the gratitude box with a big, bold, bright blue Sharpie.
With that, he reminds me to check that same box every single day.
Chapter 24: Miracle Minutes
During one conversation for this story, someone said something intriguing. Still, we rapidly bounced from one topic to the next and the next. I made a mental note to revisit the expression, but the invisible ink faded. It gnawed at me. It could have been a good component of the story. It seemed lost forever.
Two months later, someone repeated it. It was a miracle. Well, actually, it was. The words that had slipped my mind were “Miracle Minute.”
Tragedies happen—it’s a sad facet of our lives. Afterward, family members lean on each other for support. Some tend to isolate in subsequent days. Friends and other families eventually rally around them.
It’s always challenging to know what to say or do. As we get older, that doesn’t get any easier.
There are times when sporting rivals even drop their guard and cross county lines, state boundaries, and city limits to lend a hand. There’s time for competition and time for compassion. Good people mobilize around the latter.
Support can be delivered in many ways: hugs, cards, phone calls, text messages, and a big one in Minnesota—delivery of a hot dish—also known as casserole, to the family. There are also times when financial donations help. That’s where “Miracle Minutes” enter. Retiring Superintendent Jay Belcastro shared this concept with THHS staff back in 2014. Since then, folks in Two Harbors have occasionally conducted Miracle Minutes for families in duress.
The concept is simple: Hometown families are informed via Facebook that a Miracle Minute will be conducted during a forthcoming game for a specific family. This is a good reminder for folks to bring cash in addition to debit cards. Then, between quarters or halftime of a football or basketball game, Activities Director Scott Ross—or a substitute–offers a few thoughts regarding the family to be supported. The scoreboard clock is set to one minute. Cheerleaders and other athletes then race up and down the stairs, passing donation cups to all who hold a dollar bill or two in the air.
There are those in attendance who might not be able to donate. Budgets are tight. Everyone associated with the school completely understands. Prayers help. Positive energy delivered telepathically in the form of well-wishes is appreciated. It all counts.
Miracle Minutes can lead to goosebump moments. A longstanding tradition remains at high school football and basketball games. Spectators supporting the “Home” team sit over here. Fans of the “Visitors” sit over there. As expected, when the Miracle Minute commences, arms are raised in the Home section of the bleachers. It’s enough to get the emotions churning. Pushing those emotions over the top is when the first hand—followed by the second, third, fourth, etc., raised hands emerge from the Visitors section.
Complete strangers offering donations.
Can it get any better?
Actually, yes.
On multiple occasions, the following has happened. A week after the Miracle Minute, an envelope arrives at Two Harbors High School.
Paraphrasing:
“We were at the game last week in Two Harbors when you had the Miracle Minute. Neither my wife nor I had any cash with us, but we were moved by the story shared and wanted to help. Please see that the enclosed donation makes its way to the family. We are hoping for the best for them.”
It would be easy for people like them to return to their hometowns with good intentions slowly fading away. Free to move on with their lives. But they seem to be wired consistent with an old expression:
“Character is the ability to follow through on a resolution long after the emotion with which it was made has passed.”
They didn’t have to send the donation; few people will ever know they did. That’s not important to them; helping others is.
Families helping someone else’s family. Strangers helping strangers.
Is that a miracle?
Close enough.
In one recent Miracle Minute, the people of Two Harbors and surrounding communities rallied to support a family from a town 50 miles away. The scene was the boys and girls Polar League Conference All-Star basketball games hosted by Two Harbors High School. Janae Sjodin of the Carlton-Wrenshall Raptors was nominated to play in the game but was involved in a terrible car accident a few days before the game.
Do these Miracle Minute moments move society forward? Do they matter? Emma Grover is Janae’s basketball coach. I’ll let her answer that question:
“You guys!!!!! Tonight was so amazing!!!!!! The Polar League Conference All-Star game was nothing short of incredible. Janae, you are so loved, supported, and cared for.
People LOVE YOU GF!!!!
The evening started out by acknowledging this past Friday’s accident. But then by honoring J, since she couldn’t play, by announcing Jaela as her honorary player!!
Little J did so great and is such a strong kiddo – just like her big sister!!!
Janae had a spot on the conference home team bench, right next to coach! All of these outstanding athletes showed incredible support, sportsmanship, respect, and honor – all for you J!!! You’re a fighter and people know that!! They can’t wait to see you back up on your own two!
Towards the end of the girls’ game, the Two Harbors coaches and athletics staff provided us with a MIRACLE MINUTE. The scorekeeper put ONE minute up on the clock. During this minute, the Two Harbors boys and girls basketball players ran around the gym and collected donations for the Sjodin family! You guys, our communities are AMAZING. In ONE MINUTE, just ONE, we raised $2400 for the Sjodin family. HOW INCREDIBLE IS THAT?!!! I absolutely love what people can do when they come together. J, you brought these people together on an entire new level! Simply amazing!!!
To finish out the night, the Wrenshall boys who participated in their All Star game, wore #30 to represent Janae as well. Uriah and Carter, we thank you and the boy’s coaches for making this happen for J!
I couldn’t be more proud to be a part of the basketball community tonight! This is what sports are about! Supporting each other, lifting each other up in those tough times, and representing!!! Absolutely incredible!
We thank EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON that showed up for support, wore some #sjodinstrong gear, donated money, asked how J is doing, and just loved on the Sjodin family. We thank you all!!! #blessings #janaestrong #proudcoachmoment
Miracle Minutes. Enough said.
“Helping others is perhaps the greatest joy! You cannot have a perfect day without helping others with no thought of getting something in return.”
Chapter 25: "67 Seconds"
September 1, 2023
Halsted Field – Two Harbors, Minnesota
Parent’s Night
Cloquet Lumberjacks vs Two Harbors Agates
The first football game of each year is symbolic. The end of summer. The beginning of a new school year. For high school seniors, the first day of the final year. For adults with children, another reminder that the clock relentlessly spins. Leaves that blossomed in spring, flourished during summer, will soon fall, then blow across the field before coming to rest.
On this night, the seasons of life converged at Halsted Field in the heaviest, yet most uplifting, of ways.
For the first time since kindergarten, one member of the Agates family wouldn’t have her Mom present to help decide what to wear on the forthcoming first day of school. For the first time in six years of cheering, the Agates’ cheer captain wouldn’t see her Mom sitting in her familiar spot on the top row of the bleachers, cheering along with her and smiling back at her. On this Parent’s Night, a daughter wouldn’t walk arm-in-arm with her Mom.
Tammy Churness was caring, vibrant, social—a force—a Football Mom—a Cheer Mom. She was ever-present at Halsted Field. She was undoubtedly present on this night, but sadly, only in spirit. Fourteen days before this football game, Tammy’s two-plus-year-long battle with cancer came to a peaceful end, surrounded by family.
In times like this, rallying around a community member and their family isn’t unique to Two Harbors or a football team. There are good people in every town. But in small towns like this, personal connections run deeper.
They just do.
When your graduating class is less than 80 students, your bond is inherently tighter than in larger schools. Everyone here knows everyone else. With that, when one family suffers a loss, everyone is rattled. The tremors are felt by all.
This small group of high school seniors knows this all too well.
Too darn well.
Aaron Churness grew up in Two Harbors. One high school football teammate was Tom Nelson. One of their coaches was Scott Ross. Churness and Nelson were kids together. Their kids are now together. On paper, they aren’t family. In life, they are.
Aaron and Tammy Churness met in Cloquet, married, and started a family. They eventually moved to Two Harbors because they knew it would be a great place to raise their kids.
Aaron reflected, “A huge part of that is the high school and the coaches. Most coaches are Two Harbors natives. They care deeply about the success of their athletes—not just winning but transforming them into good adults. That’s the key that happens in our sports programs.”
Aaron was a football captain in 1991. Eight months after Tammy’s diagnosis, their son, Alec, served as football team captain in the fall of 2021. In the Autumn of 2023, their daughter, Emma, was the cheer team captain. Emma followed her sister, Kate—a 2013 graduate—in the lineage of cheerleaders. The Churness family is an integral part of the larger Agates family.
With a solid foundation, it was no surprise to learn of the outpouring of support emanating from the folks in Two Harbors. Shared stories illustrated the back-and-forth, unbreakable elasticity of the bond. Moments for all—individuals and families—to move to the perimeter to grieve but also be pulled back in for support and to offer support to others.
Two Harbors isn’t a dress-up town—it’s a show-up town. Sightings of “Team Churness” t-shirts became common. At one football game, they held a “Cancer Awareness Night.” At another—a “Miracle Minute.” Meanwhile, throughout rounds of chemotherapy, Tammy found the strength to continue supporting others, including participating in preparing and serving team dinners.
This is where I’m supposed to convey what it must have been like for the Churness family in those 30 months following Tammy’s diagnosis. I won’t pretend to know. Each reader can imagine—what if it was your Mom, dad, brother, or sister? Unless you’ve been there, it’s impossible to know. I can only assume that it’s good not to be alone in times like these for individuals and families.
Emma affirmed the wisdom of moving to Two Harbors. “I lost my Mom in August, right before football season started, and it was horrible. I was nervous about going into football season because it was just horrible. But the way my Cheer Team and my football team carried me and my family through is something I’ll never forget.”
Amid an outpouring of support for the Churness family, the “forget about me, I love you” mantra was never more present at Halsted Field.
Emma continued, “Our first game of the season, the game representing our family and my Mom, also happened to be Parent’s Night. I was very nervous because the night was about us, and I’d be walking without my Mom. I couldn’t stand having one of my arms empty, so I asked my older sister, Kate, to fill in for my Mom. It seriously made me feel so much better. I know my Mom would’ve been very happy to know I had someone there for her, and that gave me strength for the rest of the night.
“My brother, Alec, was a football team captain, so they all knew and played with him. He graduated in ’22. They all worked to raise money for us, and everyone was always checking in on me—even guys on the football team who didn’t know me. I’ll just never forget that. That’s why I never want to leave town—it’s just so good knowing that if anything happens, you’ll always have that support.”
Alec recalled, “I greatly appreciated Coach Nelson throughout that time. He ensured I knew he’d do anything for me and my family. He’s defended me in the past—always had my back, reassured me I’d have his support. So, it was no surprise that nobody did more to help me get through this than him.”
“Tammy was very appreciative of everything the Cheer Team and everyone associated with the school did for us,“recalled Aaron. He singled out Cheerleading Coach Melanie Ross.“Mel is such a great role model and mentor for all the girls.”
Aaron mentioned something I had heard multiple times. The football season doesn’t end. The support system is in place year-round. As a dad, Aaron said it was comforting to know that Alec and Emma were in that environment.
“We just want everyone to know how much we appreciate their support. The football team, coaches, the school, and, of course, the Cheer Team. Everyone.”
“I can’t believe I’m no longer a cheerleader.”
Those were Emma’s words to Cheerleading Coach Melanie Ross soon after the high school football season ended. Athletes who have graduated from high school and played their final game know that deflating feeling. For Emma, cheerleading, as she’d known it for the previous six years, was over.
Or was it?
Ross started to remind Emma of the “Cheer Camp” scheduled for the first week of February: the following week, a Junior High Cheer Clinic. Before Mel could finish her sentence, Emma asked, “When are we starting?”
By definition, Cheer Camp is a comfort zone—a place for a broken heart to continue to heal while bringing cheer to others. “She loves cheerleading. Who better to spark an interest or a fire than somebody who loves it?” Ross recalled.
There was a lot of that “forget about me, I love you” stuff floating around during Cheer Camp. It flowed from the Cheer Team to the little campers. From everyone to Emma. And, even in this challenging time, from Emma to those young kids who dream to become like her someday.
Dawn Jones put it best when speaking of Melanie Ross, Mazzy DiFranco, and the cheerleaders who participated in Cheer Camp:
"You girls were just a machine. Strength, honor, love, and unity. You always raise up one of your own that is in pain. You're a beautiful unit. Mel, you and Mazzy are amazing. Emma Churness, your momma was proud. You were a pillar of strength."
The passing of time allows for reflection–for adjustments to narratives. Emma previously told me her story. She was about to tell the story of others to others. Weeks after our visit, the year-end Cheer Team Banquet was held. Emma stood before all who supported her through their shared experience. She spoke the words, but via their actions, everyone in that room had written this unscripted flow of emotion. This was their story, Emma their spokesperson.
She fought through emotions then delivered with a surge of unyielding conviction:
“The one thing I want to say is that in 30 years, I probably won’t remember all these memories we shared tonight, but I can say that I truly feel like you will never forget the way a person—or a group of people—made you feel at a certain time in your life. Even if I don’t remember getting pudding at St. Thomas in 30 years, I will always remember how my team treated me when I went through one of the hardest times in my life.”
“I just…I love you guys so much.”
“You should all be proud of the amazing humans you are. There’s no one like you. Every time I showed up to practice, I felt nothing but patience—and that was the one thing I definitely needed when I had my bad days. You guys should all be very proud of the people you are and the people you’re going to be because there’s no one like you. And yeah, that’s all I have to say.”
With those words—delivered in 67 seconds, the picture of six years of immersion in a nurturing environment was painted. Sixty-seven seconds of insight into our meaning, our purpose. It was 67 seconds of why we chase rainbows and sunsets—the most beautiful of moments.
It was 67 seconds of forget about me, I love you.
I’ve only met a few Cheer Team members, yet I can easily extend my respect to all of them. These are the people who inspired Emma’s message. Without them, she wouldn’t have found those words. They lived this story together:
Ellie Johnson
Alison Shaw
Alissa Winbauer
Atlanta Ness
Ava Bailey
Emerson Backen
Larissa Pitkanen
Madi Macfarlane
Madison Kuusisto
Pipa Beckstrand
Rebecca Blaisdell
Savannah Anderson
Scarlett Hietala
Sophia Ray
Photo Credits (below): The Churness Family
"I have no idea where I would be without this program. I was not super involved in sports. I was just doing my own thing. I didn't have that many close friendships with anyone.My dad, Joshua Widdes, is one of the coaches, and it's strengthened our relationship and given us something to bond over and spend time together.I'm going to college and playing football, and if you had asked me six months ago, let alone three years ago, that I would be doing this, I would have said there is zero chance that I will ever be a college athlete. I'm also doing track, but that is purely because of Coach Nelson and Two Harbors football. I am the person I am today--even willing to have the courage to reach out to coaches and talk to other people because of what I've gained from this. I would not be in a good, successful place without the opportunity I was given to be part of this team. It really was the best possible thing for me.I really don't want to know what would have happened to me if this didn't exist."
Chapter 30: Influencers
One of the significant challenges for high school kids is to “figure it out.” “It” can be many things. They look for answers from their parents, friends, and beyond. “Beyond” includes the digital world.
Digital “influencers” on TikTok, Instagram, and elsewhere often leverage superficiality while stockpiling legions of young, impressionable followers. By definition, their foundation is built on three words:
“Look at me.”
The students and athletes in Two Harbors, Minnesota, and Canadian, Texas, are living amid an environment where the foundations of their most prominent local influencers-the head coaches of their football teams, are also built on three words:
“Forget about me.”
Diametric opposites.
One set of influencers wants something. The other gives. One chases Views, Likes, Followers, and Subscriptions. The other offers opportunity, support, affirmation, inclusion, community, fun, and love.
One group measures success by clicks. The other by the number of young men and women they inspire—whose tanks they fill with inspiration and hope—for whom they make a difference today, fueling optimism for tomorrow.
One approach often goes viral. The other one should.
I now better understand how “30 Picture Mom” feels.
Chapter 31: Where Else?
The community of Two Harbors knows good people associated with the high school are willing to do things for others. Some of those people are affiliated with the local high school sports teams. Make a phone call or send an email; they’ll be there.
Good people doing good things for others.
That’s it—the end.
But this can’t be “the end.” It can’t be just my hometown. Somewhere out there, there must be others. I’m guessing there are many. If true, why don’t we hear about them? Where are they?
I was determined to find one. Not necessarily another town where five boys managed the move of an elliptical exercise machine from a garage to a basement. I wasn’t looking for duplicity. But another city where townspeople in all seasons of life were building and maintaining connections and supporting each other.
I wanted to find another town where happiness still happens.
To my surprise—my very pleasant surprise—one email later, I found one.
During the past 12 months, if I was given a nickel every time I asked myself, “How did I wind up here?” I’d have enough money to buy one of those four-dollar cups of Starbucks coffee. Was it fate? Divine guidance? Purely random? I have suspicions but not conclusions.
I was born and raised in Minnesota and spent 18 years in Colorado before a job transfer landed me and my wife, Vickie, in Fort Worth for 10 years. In March of 2023, we returned to Denver, reuniting Vickie with her two daughters and an amazing grandson.
Family matters.
But so does football.
I hope you are laughing.
I wanted to find goodness somewhere other than my hometown. The logical question is, “You couldn’t find it in Colorado?” Good point. I don’t have a good answer for that. The truth is, I didn’t try. Texas left an impression. I miss high school football down there. Not to mention barbeque, Buc-ees, and Brahms. This story became an excuse to return.
Texas would always be the destination, but there was a problem. While living there, I saw many football games but don’t recall hearing stories resembling those emanating from my hometown.
Where would the Texas chapter of this story begin?
My flimsy plan was to email as many Athletic Directors in West Texas as necessary until I found a welcoming school with a story to tell. I needed to find the right small town where football was about more than just winning. I wasn’t confident this was possible. Honestly, I was hesitant to share my story idea with schools in Texas. I thought I might receive a bunch of replies along the lines of “We don’t really do anything like that school back in Minnesota.”
During my first stint in Colorado, my brother—ironically, lived in the suburbs of Dallas. On countless occasions, I drove from Denver to Dallas. In my quest to drive every paved road in America, I often drifted off the beaten path. On two occasions, this included a detour through several memorable towns. I’m a sucker for old-school water towers, single-screen movie theaters, and longstanding athletic fields once trampled by youngsters before they ran off to live fulfilling lives. Several such towns exist in the Texas panhandle:
- Wheeler—home to a beautiful grass-covered football field I’d once walked across after stopping to see the memorial to Apollo astronaut Alan Bean. I was an Apollo fanatic. Spending time there would have been fun.
- Wellington – location of one of my favorite old-school water towers and the beautiful “Ritz” movie theater
- Shamrock—a pivotal location on fabled Route 66 where a beautiful picturesque movie theater, where perhaps my favorite “press box” overlooks the small-town baseball field—Irish Field, and a goosebump generating art deco Conoco service station.
- Canadian–a town on my mental map for three reasons. First, for its exceptional heritage of excellence in a bit of Texas lore—high school football. While living in Texas, Canadian won three state championships in their division. This is a town of 2,500 people. How does this happen? Next, I remember driving through town and seeing the paw prints painted on the local streets. Those prints lead directly to the high school football field. Finally, I grew up 124 miles from the Canadian border. Why is there a town in Texas named Canadian?
Four candidates to contact. I started with one. The tiebreaker was simple. It wasn’t the football championships or paw prints. Canadian was furthest north—closest to Denver. That’s it. That’s all. Geography determined the selection. If Canadian didn’t respond, I’d contact the next closest town—Wheeler. Then Shamrock. Then Wellington.
I emailed a stranger on Saturday, October 21, at 12:19 pm. Seventeen hours later, at 7:15 am on Sunday, a response flew into my Inbox.
I thought, “Who gets up this early on Sunday, checks their emails, responds enthusiastically, then attacks the rest of their day?” I eventually learned that the guy on the other end of this email is wired unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
His name is Andy Cavalier—the Athletic Director and Head Football Coach at Canadian High School. Andy offered an enthusiastic invitation to attend a football game the following Friday night in Canadian. There are 1,500 high schools in Texas that have football teams. I threw a dart against the wall. That dart couldn’t possibly have landed in a better place.
Bullseye.
Chapter 34: Why Canadian?
Alarm bells rang when I crossed the New Mexico/Texas border near Texline. During the first 400 miles of my 500-mile drive from the southwest Denver suburbs to the north Texas panhandle, I thought only about the last three decades. I should have been thinking about tomorrow. It was time to snap out of it.
I needed balance for this story. Texas would be the teeter to my Minnesota totter. I lived in Minnesota for nearly 30 years. I knew Minnesota. I now had 17 hours—7 am until midnight, in a town where I’d never met anyone to find the Texas counterweight. This felt like college. The final exam is tomorrow, and I still haven’t read the first chapter. I had to simplify. Don’t seek answers to a hundred questions. Focus on one:
Why Canadian—what about this small town leads to all their success?
From a clothing and idea perspective, I traveled light. I was going to have to, as some journalists like to say, let this story come to me. It did—in waves. I hadn’t adequately prepared for Texas, but Texas was ready for me.
I woke up early on Friday. Pondered my objective for the day while eating Fruit Loops from a styrofoam bowl in the hotel dining area. I went back for seconds—complimentary breakfast, after all.
Why Canadian? Why Canadian? What is it about this place?
I left the hotel at 7:30 am without a clue.
By 8:30 am, I thought I had the answer.
By noon, it was becoming clear.
By 4 pm, I had my story. All this and the football game was still three hours away.
By midnight, I was checking Realtor.com for available housing in Canadian.
Chapter 35: Bounce Back Morning
CANADIAN, TEXAS – FRIDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2023
In late October, roosters in this part of northwest Texas are awakened not by the 7:59 a.m. sunrise but much earlier by the sound of school busses motoring two-lane, farm-to-market roads, townspeople throwing gear into the bed of the truck before driving to work, or the relentless, though not as loud as you’d expect, industrial rhythm of an oil rig on the outskirts of town.
Morning feels different here. The topography at 2,431 feet above sea level, absent a forest, presents an expansive vibe, a ‘no limits to what might happen here today’ feeling.
I was still rattled by yesterday’s news. But it was time to move forward, to drive to the school, to pull it together, and make the best of the situation.
I grew up in a town where people typically drive with their left hand out the window, some still doing that airplane wing-flaps thing—air hits your palm for lift, the back of your hand for downward pressure. Dexterity is then aptly displayed as the driver’s right hand clutches the steering wheel. Yet, two fingers reflexively raise for nearly every oncoming vehicle. Smalltown, behind-the-wheel sign language.
The northbound driver flashes “the peace sign.” The unspoken message is straightforward:
“How you doin’?”
The southbound driver flashes “the deuces” back. The unspoken response is understood:
“I’m OK, thanks for asking.”
Civility expressed one dose at a time.
A bit drained after my post-midnight arrival following life-changing news and the long drive, my awkward early-morning departure from the hotel parking lot provided the precursor to my day. I was driving from the hotel to the elementary school. If I had a mulligan, I’d have waited for the oncoming truck to pass before pulling into traffic.
After stomping on his brakes to slow his white Ford F-250, the other driver, the brim of his baseball cap resting on top of his glasses in an angry, glaring-at-me stylistic expression, had reason to be upset. I braced for the reaction I deserved. Indeed, at least one of three reprimands symbolic of modern America was imminent:
- The blaring horn
- The palms facing skyward expression of “what the (heck) are you doing?”
- The single-finger salute, indicative of the highest level of anger
I braced for a bit of two-lane-Texas-road style ass-kicking. I had nowhere to hide. A citizen’s arrest and sentence were about to befall me. To my surprise, there was neither a horn nor the open, WTF palms. Two options of reprimand had yet to emanate. I awaited the brutal, well-deserved third.
And here it comes. The driver’s middle finger released its grip on the steering wheel. As I started to offer my apologetic wave, I noticed his index finger rising.
He dealt the deuces—the peace sign—a response that needed no Texan-to-Minnesotan slang translation. This was his way of telling me:
“Peace, brother. Happens to the best of us. I forgive you. Now, go and enjoy your day here in Canadian.”
Wow. I didn’t deserve that. First impressions are everything—perhaps explaining why my invitations to women for a second date with me were typically rejected. But this impression left a mark. A good mark. Are other people in Canadian this welcoming?
I could have only felt more at home if he’d simultaneously done the wing-flaps thing.
During my drive from Denver to Canadian, Coach Cavalier called to offer advice. He called the first play of Game Day:
“Game days are special down here. Try to arrive at the elementary school by 7:45 a.m. Based on what you told me about the spirit of the story you’re writing, I think there’s something there you might want to see. Watch what happens as students arrive. Drive safe, and I’m looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”
After my hotel parking lot debacle, I carefully traveled the 1.2 miles from the hotel to Canadian Elementary School. I drove as if I was 16, taking my driver’s test. I came to a complete stop at every stoplight. I looked both ways. I’d learned my lesson. Now, I was entering a place where kids learn theirs—an elementary school—a place I hadn’t been in 50 years.
The procession of vehicles stacked in queue to drop off school children looked like anywhere else in Smalltown, USA. I found a place to park then walked towards the nearest entrance. I momentarily thought about grabbing my school books. Then I realized I was beyond that phase of learning how to read, but I’m most definitely still learning how to write.
While I generally feel comfortable among strangers, I was still apprehensive about walking into the school. I was about to inject myself into the lives of townspeople where nobody knew my name. I was walking into an elementary school on a school day morning for the first time since 1971.
Goodbye, comfort zone. Good morning, Canadian.
My expectation to be greeted with a graham cracker, carton of milk, and sleeping pad for my forthcoming nap went unfulfilled. I recovered, anticipating receiving that welcome basket after the morning announcements. Do they still make morning announcements over the loudspeaker? Then I noticed the smell inside the school. Sensory travel ensued. Right back home. They apparently cleaned the floors at CES with the same stuff they used at the John A. Johnson Elementary School in Two Harbors in the 1960s.
What is going on here?
My first stop was the principal’s office.
“May I speak with the Principal?”
“You got her. Good morning, I’m Reagan Risley; how can I help you?”
She’d reached out to shake my hand. Before going any further, one of my lifelong triggers had been tripped. I just met someone with a great name. While she was offering her “Welcome to Canadian Elementary” greetings, I was thinking, “Who might win this “Greatest American Names” contest?”
Reagan versus Tom?
Risley versus Smith?
Reagan Risley versus Tom Smith?
Principal Risley versus Unemployed Citizen Tom Smith?
Principal Risley wins in a landslide, though “Citizen Smith” has a nice ring.
“Hi, my name is, unfortunately, Tom Smith. It’s nice to meet you. Coach Cavalier and Principal Bryant welcomed me to come down here to experience game day in Canadian. Coach Cavalier suggested this would be a good place to start.”
I had just met Ms. Reagan Risley, Principal of Canadian Elementary School. My first impressions? “Confident, leader, attentive.” I’d add “Pusher of Emotional Buttons” to the list within an hour.
Principal Risley assured me I’d come to the right place, recommended I return to the main entrance to watch the kids arrive, and advised me to return to the cafeteria in 15 minutes to observe the next phase of game day in Canadian which she’d be orchestrating.
Back at the main entrance, ten of the 29 Canadian Wildcats football players on the field later tonight welcomed the kindergarteners, first- and second-graders to school. Football players and cheerleaders were also at their other elementary school. The football players wore their game jerseys and blue jeans–I noticed an oversized belt buckle or two, but no cowboy boots or hats. Don’t worry; that stereotype surfaces a few hours later.
Five football players lined up on the left. Five on the right. The incoming students would walk between—their version of a red carpet arrival to elementary school. This was their moment—the littles were the biggest of stars under this ever-brightening Texas sky. Several girls arrived wearing replica Canadian Wildcat cheerleading outfits. Several boys wore replica Wildcats jerseys. Some children appeared a bit sleepy, others as giddy as can be. All were treated like royalty—exchanging high-fives with the kings of Canadian—those varsity football players.
One girl walked smartly through the reception line toting her Barbie backpack, the next conveying a bit of “I’m the boss” confidence while sporting her Spiderman backpack. A girl later arrived with face paint depicting a Wildcat paw print and a linebacker’s “I’m ready to play” game face.
The final boy entered with a flourish shortly before the school bell rang. His Mom told the story.
After dreaming about cowboys or cartoons, this young boy opened his eyes and scrambled to prepare. Was his excitement mistakenly generated by thinking this was Saturday instead of a school day?
Nope.
He’d been looking forward to this day all week.
Mom didn’t need to choose his clothes today. This decision was never in doubt. A long-sleeved gold t-shirt is underneath a black t-shirt emblazoned with the Canadian Wildcats logo. One leg of his pants was black, the other gray. Matching sneakers rounded out his ensemble.
By the way, he would never call this an “ensemble.” More like “my very favorite shirt and pants in the whole world,” reserved only for Game Day and backyard football games.
Tonight, the Wildcats were facing the Tulia Hornets. He had no intention to wait until 7 p.m. to see his heroes. Breakfast was an afterthought. Literally. Mom’s last-minute “Did you eat your breakfast” query prompted a U-turn at the garage door and a trip back to the kitchen table. Breakfast was shoveled. Mom lagged behind a bit, only to face a reprimand:
“Hurry, Mom, I want to go see the Wildcats!”
Minutes later, they arrived at school. What followed wasn’t a romanticized hand-in-hand, mother-and-son walk to the front door. He was a first-down ahead, walking at a pace you might expect only for a child’s first visit to Disneyland. This seemed abnormal. How often does an elementary school student arrive at school with such excitement?
There’s a simple explanation—game day in Texas, not just for the football players, but for everyone—including him. His day starts as it will end—with all his attention on the football players who live down the street, who he sees around town while riding his bike, and who he dreams of becoming someday.
Then, his grand entrance. Shoulders back, chin up, long strides, full of confidence. He approached each Wildcat, paused, then launched his half of the palm-smacking high-five exchange. Smack, boom, ka-pow! Batman would have been proud. His ear-to-ear smile signaled his joy. The football players smiled along with him. They could relate—only a few years removed from knowing the excitement of seeing their heroes around town. Now, they are the heroes living a real-life role reversal.
Their presence is this boy’s present.
The youngster saved enough energy for one last high-five. My hand still hurts.
Attention now shifted to the cafeteria.
It was crowded. The kiddos sat at their picnic table-style cafeteria tables. To my surprise, the varsity cheerleaders stepped to center stage. The sound system started thumping, the cheerleaders began dancing. Shakira provided the vibe—her song was “Waka Waka.”
You’re a good soldier
Choosing your battles
Pick yourself up
And dust yourself off
Get back in the saddle
Hmm. Is Shakira singing to me?
You’re on the front line
Everyone’s watching
You know it’s serious
We’re getting closer
This isn’t over
The pressure’s on
You feel it
But you got it all
Believe it
Principal Risely implored the students to join in:
“Little cheerleaders, if you know it, come on up. Come on up!!”
One girl—the obvious girl—who’d already been dancing with the cheerleaders from the lunch table led the pack to the dance line. Many girls and boys followed. A glorious scene developed as the kiddos stole the show. A few knew the dance steps. Others watched with fascination and performed with no reservations.
Weeks later, in Minnesota, Two Harbors High School cheerleaders—Atlanta, Emma, and Savannah watched the video. “Those kids have been to cheer camp!” They could see it from a thousand miles away.
Shakira managed the tone and rhythm as her song continued to pulse:
Listen to your God
This is our motto
Your time to shine
Don’t wait in line
Y vamos por todo
People are raising
Their expectations
Go on and feed them
This is your moment
No hesitation
Today’s your day
I feel it
You paved the way
Believe it
If you get down, get up, oh, oh
When you get down, get up, eh, eh
Lyrics: “Waka Waka” by Shakira and John Hill
Shakira was definitely singing to me. Zero doubt.
Principal Risley then prodded the football players to take center stage.
“We need the Wildcats up here. They get to stay with us today.” A pre-recorded version of the school song funneled through the impressive sound system. The kids sang along in the most adorable voices—elementary school voices.
Then, it was time to rehearse the cheers they’ll shout at tonight’s game. Principal Risley nominated two students—perhaps second-graders, to come up front while leading the students with the “Go!!!” part of the cheer. Then it began:
“Go!!!!”
The cheerleaders and football players responded with:
“Wildcats!!!”
It was amusing to see these elementary school kids leaning into each cheer, shouting with all their might:
“Go!!!!”
“Wildcats!!!”
“Go!!!!”
“Wildcats!!!”
The session wrapped up when they played the school song again while the cheerleaders, followed by the football players, snake-danced their way through the tables, giving and receiving high-fives and fist-bumps from the kids as they went along.
While catching their breath, the kids stood, placed their hands over their hearts, pledged their allegiance to our nation’s flag, and offered an oath to the flag of Texas.
One of the teachers noticed an older, clearly distressed man standing nearby. He was fidgeting, his bottom lip quivering at cartoon-caliber speed, his nervous system distressing, his pride fighting back—calling on every emotion-suppressing tactic in his vast arsenal. His face was telling a story, a sad story. Did the dog die?
No, that happens later. (Yes, it really does).
The teacher made eye contact with him, waved a white tissue in the air as if to ask, “Would you care to surrender to whatever you’ve got going on there?” She held the box of Kleenex in her right hand, the single tissue in her left.
I let her keep the tissue. I grabbed the box.
It wasn’t yet 8:30 a.m. The rising tide of answers to my “Why Canadian?” question were already rolling in.
Before walking into that school, my emotional state was as unstable as a soap opera marriage. This intervention was attended and administered by the most unlikely cast of characters: football players, cheerleaders, teachers, students, and Principal Risley. Like a duckling cracking through an eggshell, I was seeing a new world. One of pure happiness. I was now seeing my future—taking my first steps away from my past. Maybe there is life outside the nest I called home for the last 32 years.
Months later, Shakira’s song and lyrics—and my memories of what I observed in that cafeteria, still push this 63-year-old towards an emotional comeuppance.
Good grief!
Wait.
Seriously—this was good grief. Sadness and tears were still present, but happiness and laughter chased them around the hallways of an elementary school. Yesterday was a crash landing. The first hours of today, a get-back-on-your-feet bounce-back morning.
I was trying to reconcile what I had just watched. This was pure happiness. Then I reminded myself—this wasn’t an ordinary school day. This is an October Friday in Texas. I knew how game day ended. I’d seen that hundreds of times. I’d now witnessed how it started.
As I contemplated the factors that placed me here, luck was the early leader, coincidence joined the race, fate was gaining fast, but as they rounded the final corner and headed down the home stretch, I couldn’t escape the possibility that the jockey behind all this was that thing known as “divine intervention.” A year later, this remains among my most prevalent thoughts regarding October 27, 2023.
My visit to Canadian Elementary School was different from what I expected. It was better. Far exceeding expectations. Even without the graham crackers and milk.
The drowsy little Texans afforded this morning’s red carpet experience learned a lesson before any teacher in that school said, “Good morning, students.”
Maybe it went down like this:
The school day was now complete, the weekend awaiting. The girl who arrived this morning looking tired—maybe even sad, was back home, sitting at the dinner table, tapping her fingers, whispering a song to herself. Her parents noticed, sat down, and before they could ask how her day went, she intervened:
“Mom and Dad, guess what I learned in school today.”
“We don’t know—tell us about it, dear.”
“Well, I learned a new dance, and I learned a new song, and a new cheer, and I had fun with all the other kids in school.”
“Oh honey, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that. Give me a hug. Did you learn anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Well…go ahead. What was it?”
“I learned that those older kids care about me.”
While Mom and dad processed their can-you-believe-this-moment emotions, their daughter had a request:
“Mom and Dad, can we go see the Wildcats tonight?”
Welcome to Game Day Morning
Chapter 38: It's a Wonderful Life
The future disappears into memory
With only a moment between
Forever dwells in that moment
Hope is what remains to be seen
An unseasonably cold, northerly wind emanating from the arctic roared down the western plains, rushed from the backline of the north end zone of Wildcat Stadium, crossed the goal line of the south end zone, split the uprights, then past the “AVO” rocks—more on those later, before touching down in the parking lot of the Mesa View Assisted Living Community.
This wasn’t a cold Texas October afternoon. This was Minnesota cold. I sought shelter underneath my “Hockey Day In Warroad, Minnesota” hoodie. You’d think such a hoodie would be warm enough. It wasn’t.
Meanwhile, an 87-year-old lifelong sports fan named Dale Litchfield braved the weather as he pushed his walker out the front door of the building. Several residents lagged behind. Dale proudly held his “Canadian Wildcats” flag while it snapped amid the gusts. If he was on roller skates, Dale could have wind-surfed to Amarillo.
He pushed the walker again as he looked towards town. Four complete rotations of the wheels forward. Each rotation provided a better view to the north. Then five more. He was getting antsy. Six more.
“Where were his friends?”
A few residents sat near the doorway, better shielded from the wind. Blankets were retrieved. Other residents anxiously peered out the window from inside the warmth of Mesa View. Several residents and staff members held signs saying, “WARNING: WILDCAT VICTORY AHEAD.”
Their friends were late. Thirty minutes late. Then 40.
More blankets.
Consternation circulated among the residents. “Did they forget about us?”
The faint sound of the blasting horn from the fire truck and the siren’s wail from the other EMS vehicles followed. Litchfield—the scout atop the hill, heard them first.
“They haven’t left town yet! There’s still hope.”
Then, the noises faded to a disheartening silence.
This isn’t turning out as expected. I was here to witness a celebration. Instead, sadness seemed inevitable–like watching a Minnesota Vikings playoff game.
A gray squirrel on the edge of the parking lot then sat up on its haunches. It looked towards the Wildcats water tower beyond the football field. Then towards Dale. Then, back at the water tower. Then Dale. Squirrels don’t speak English. If this one could, he’d have said, “Dale, don’t you hear them? They’re coming!”
Sure enough, the sound of horns and sirens soon reverberated. The flashing lights are now visible. The procession of EMS vehicles traveled past the stadium to the south side of town.
“They didn’t forget us!”
Then, the moment they’d all been looking forward to.
It was a bus. Just a bus. All this for a bus? Well, not any old bus. It was one bus, followed by another, each carrying members of the high school band as they departed Canadian to compete in a statewide competition in Odessa. Smiles and waves ensued. Some from the seniors of Mesa View. Some from the seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen of Canadian High School. Reciprocating happiness.
This was neither “just a bus” nor a token ceremony. It was evidence. One more clue of something unique going on here. It’s only 10 am, but the case against Canadian is building. It’s the second time I’ve seen a different version of the same thing—older humans supporting younger humans, younger humans inspiring older humans. Today, at Mesa View, it was the band. Other times, it’s the girl’s cross country team, boys’ basketball, track, softball, or girls’ basketball. But this is Texas—shouldn’t this festivity be reserved for football? Nope. There’s a wide variety of kindness-accomplices roaming this town.
I looked at the bus. Then, at Dale. Then, at the other residents. The squirrel probably thought I was trying to take over its job. Earlier, I observed anticipation and consternation. Minutes later, everything had changed. Those buses didn’t just deliver the band. They delivered happiness. The pure, unfiltered kind. Pure happiness.
Can I describe this as cute? I’ll go with it. It was cute.
The residents of Mesa View don’t just see the faint images of kids through the tinted windows. The residents see themselves on that bus. Years ago. Vintage bus. Window seat. Dirt roads. Every bump. PB&J in a brown paper bag. The “Welcome to (our town)” sign. A dot on a map now coming to life. The exact destination for them then as for these kids now—those venues built to allow everyone to do one thing:
Play.
Someone organized all this so we could go have fun. Then and now.
When those kids look out the windows and wave, they see folks in their current stage of life. They see Betty, the woman who told me an hour ago about the fun she and the other girls in her hometown of Darrouzett, 40 miles north of Canadian, had playing basketball, softball, and tennis back in the1940s.
Decades before “NIL” opened the floodgates of athletes transferring from one school to the next, Betty told of a coach in Darrouzett who influenced several girls from Tulia, Texas, to transfer to Darrouzett to play basketball. These girls were good athletes.
“Our girl’s team was better than the boys!” Betty proudly proclaimed.
The kids on the bus don’t see that Betty. But this Betty is that Betty. She still has that competitive spark. She understands that feeling of riding the bus and stepping onto the field or court to compete. It never goes away.
They don’t see Dale Litchfield playing high school football 70 years ago in Higgins, Texas, or Dale watching his older sisters compete while playing basketball back in the 1930s.
But this Dale is that Dale.
Betty and Dale still wish they were on that bus. Short of that, they are so appreciative of the connection they have with the younger generation of Canadian students and athletes. When I suggested that it has to make them feel good that they are still remembered, their confirmations were expressed with decibel-elevated expressions of happiness.
Some Mesa View residents and staff members held signs containing two words: “ALL IN.” Five little letters of the alphabet were assembled in a sequence that encapsulated everything I observed.
Those kids don’t understand. They can’t. It’s not their fault. The depth of this connection will eventually register. Even at age 65, I struggled to find the best word to describe it. I racked my brain for a clever word but settled on an ordinary one.
Community.
One definition of that word is “a group of people with a common characteristic or interest living together within a larger society.”
Two words resonate for this occasion: “living together.”
Living this life is most definitely a shared experience down here. Months have passed since my first day in Canadian. While describing this place, I keep typing Mesa View, Mesa View, Mesa View. I’ve been leaving out the important part:
Assisted Living.
That’s precisely what’s going on here. It’s not just the staff members assisting the residents. The kids, coaches, band directors, bus drivers, and EMS drivers are in on it too. Each time they drive by or stop in, they improve someone else’s life.
They bring the words “assisted living” to life. They make it real. In their own way, assisting each other to make the best of this day. Good living. Darn good living.
As we all walked back inside, I took another look outside. The squirrel was gone. She’d done her job here. Comforted that she’d served her purpose of bringing people together. Checked this one off her to-do list. Now, off to do some other squirrel things.
Everyone is in on it. Even that thoughtful squirrel.
Before those buses arrived, I was allowed to meet the leadership team and some of the residents of Mesa View. I asked the residents what life lessons they’d share with the kids in Canadian. Their advice was simple and timeless:
- Make the most of each day
- Winning is important, but it’s not everything.
- We all have to learn how to overcome adversity.
- Always be preparing yourself for what’s next.
- When it’s over, move on.
- There’s no place like home.
Several residents will hop into the community’s van for a short trip down to the football field tonight. It’s Senior Night. The Tulia Hornets are in town to play the Wildcats in the final home game of the season—the sentimental, final home game for the Wildcat seniors.
Everyone is governed by general seating assignments at Wildcat Stadium. The band would sit right there if they weren’t in Odessa. The hometown fans will sit here. The visiting fans over there. Intermingling is allowed, but we all understand the territorial and tribal nature of humans. Who would dare think to invite those out-of-towners to sit amongst us?
One corner of Wildcat Stadium is off-limits to the general public. It’s the southwest corner of the field where, in a few months, high school athletes will race by on their timed 200 and 400-meter sprints. The residents of Mesa View can reliably be found sitting comfortably right there—on the track.
One of those sitting beside the south end zone tonight was Joyce Cross. Her husband looked down on the field from the north end zone. I should clarify. It’s a statue of her late husband, Bill Cross, overseeing every Wildcat Stadium event. Known as “The Canadian Comet,” Bill grew up in Canadian, played football at West Texas University, then three years for the NFL’s Chicago Cardinals, and another year for the Toronto Argonauts of the Canadian Football League. He later served as a school teacher in Canadian before retiring in 1989.
Joyce here. Bill there. Where are the Hallmark Movie cameras? Man, this is nice. Wholesome. Yes, wholesome. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken or written that word. Never found the right opportunity.
Tonight, I did.
Earlier in the day, Coach Cavalier spoke of the residents of Mesa View. “There are no bigger football fans of the Canadian Wildcats than those folks up there.” I’d soon see an abundance of supporting evidence. In advance of the season opener, several residents created brief, TikTok-like videos to encourage the football team for the upcoming year.
Cavalier was right. But the opposite also seems true. There seem to be no bigger fans of the residents of Mesa View than those students down there at Canadian High School.
Peas and carrots. Salt and pepper. Macaroni and cheese.
In recent months, in addition to various athletic teams stopping by on their way to out-of-town games, the traffic between that high school and this community included:
- The Homecoming Parade drove by Mesa View on September 18. The parade paused long enough for approximately 20 boys and girls from the CHS Drama Department to perform a dance routine in the parking lot for the residents.
- On October 15, 2024, as part of Community Give Back Day, the Wildcat Theater Group dropped by to offer theatrical and musical performances. They’d done the same on October 18, 2023. Mesa View residents gushed about the talent of the pianists. “Six or seven of them took turns playing, and they were really good!”
- On October 31–Halloween, the girls cross country team on their way to State. On a video shared to the Mesa View Facebook page, Dale Litchfield can be heard yelling, “GO SCARE ‘EM, “GO SCARE ‘EM!!”
- The Boy Scouts stopped by on December 10, 2024, to play Bingo with the residents.
I’d been caught in a trap. My thoughts of assisted living have always been falsely limited to a one-way street narrative—residents being served by staff members and some members of the community.
Assisted living at Mesa View actively goes both ways—an interactive experience. Yes, exceptional staff members care for the residents. But here, residents look forward to their opportunities to engage with and encourage others. They have much to give—and they give it. The Canadian Independent School District students are the benefactors.
That’s not typically grandma and grandpa there at Mesa View. The students and residents don’t often share last names. Initially, they only share a zip code. Then, maybe share their names when Betty, Katie, Dale, Ben, and Peggy meet Max, Clay, Luke, Emiliano, and Wyatt. Then, they share their time and their stories. Eventually—following one crossing of paths after another, they might have shared memories of each other. Ultimately, the stuff that makes the best of this world go round—their shared concern for each other.
It’s not just a bus passing by.
Residents of Mesa View are part of the Canadian educational and athletic experience. They aren’t obligated to sit outside in the cold. They choose to be there—emotionally and physically invested. I saw them support and encourage their local high school band to have fun and win that contest down in Odessa. A heck of a boost to the students sitting on those warm, comfortable buses.
What a selling point.
“I hope you enjoyed seeing one of our apartments. Now let’s go to the cafeteria where everyone’s favorite—fried shrimp is on today’s menu. After that, six pianists from the high school are stopping by to share their latest musical renditions. You’ll be getting to know them quite well.”
Back the moving trucks up. I’m moving in.
Fifty, sixty, and seventy years from now, if those kids—wherever they might be, have a Mesa View experience, they’ll understand. These kids will grow old, lose family members and friends. Their big world will get smaller. More isolated. More alone. Then this. A school like this. Kids like these. Busses like those. When they sit not on that bus but on a comfortable bench beside a shady tree, or in a wheelchair, or stabilizing themselves with a walker, then they understand how incredible this dynamic is.
Young and old, same place, same time, same life. Assisting each other.
Neil Peart, songwriter, drummer, and leader of the rhythm section of the band “Rush,” captured the distance between that bus and Litchfield’s Wildcats banner best.
“The future disappears into memory
With only a moment in between
Forever dwells in that moment
Hope is what remains to be seen.”
The future disappears into memory—a perfect synopsis of our lives. Five words to describe it all. Lives at each end of the spectrum. Dale and Betty’s past—the horn section’s future. As Betty said earlier today, “Where did the years go?”
Those moments are our forever. This morning, I watched those folks share special moments with each other.
Before leaving, I was taken on a tour of the building. This included the entertainment room in the basement. It’s a beautiful room with stadium seating reminiscent of a modern movie theater. They gather here to watch important stuff like streaming Wildcat football games, Texas state football championships, and Super Bowls. I thought, “This is a heck of a man cave.” I noticed a poster on the wall as I left that room. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed were pictured. This was a poster for the classic movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
I’d seen this movie several times but asked an artificial intelligence tool named “Grok” to describe the movie’s theme. Among other things, it replied with:
“The overall theme of the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” is the profound impact of individual lives on the community and the value of altruism, kindness, and personal sacrifice.”
I had to laugh. This place is that movie.
How fitting that the final takeaway from this planned 20-minute, now two-hour-long visit to the Mesa View Assisted Living Community is the title of that movie. In light of recent events and the unknowns ahead, it’s a good thing to have stuck in my head.
It’s a wonderful life.
It’s a wonderful life.
It indeed has been, and will continue to be a wonderful life.
I’m getting hungry. The buzz provided by the morning’s Fruit Loops has worn off. I gotta go. Before I do, I should let you know we’re not done with Mesa View Assisted Living. I’ll take you back there one more time. But first, I have a few other stories to tell.
Chapter 44: Not My Place
This is the story of the best seven dollars I ever spent. One ticket. Keep the stub. Scrapbook it.
While every game day in Canadian is special, tonight will be different. Elevated. Hundreds of people are following the paw prints to Wildcat Stadium. Something big is about to happen. The Wildcats are playing the Tulia Hornets. The game is typically the Friday night headliner, but tonight’s halftime festivities would steal the spotlight even though the Wildcats band traveled to their statewide competition.
It’s uncommon for pregame and halftime to rival or even upstage the game. Tonight will be different.
But what isn’t down here?
The playbill rhythm of this Friday night would be:
Ceremony.
Game.
Ceremony.
Game.
Postgame Ritual.
One ticket provides access to everything—a backstage pass. I should have shined my shoes and worn my Sunday best.
It’s Senior Night in Canadian. A pregame ceremony whereby moms and dads walk onto the field with their sons and daughters. I don’t know any of these people. That doesn’t matter. If you’re the sentimental type—and contrary to everything you’ve read so far, I’m not suggesting that I am—this will get you every time. All those years leading to this moment. What’s going through their minds as they walk onto that field together? Then you notice that one of the dads is starting to cry. Happens every time. Always a dad.
“Hold it together pops. Come on, dude—you can do it. Hold it together, big boy.”
Then he loses it. Full-fledged sobbing. Crap. Look away before you follow his lead. Don’t look. Don’t look. By all means, don’t look!
But humans are compelled to look—we can’t miss moments like that. I looked. My bottom lip started quivering again. Or maybe it just hasn’t stopped since last night.
Watching the procession of football players and cheerleaders with their parents is enough to make this night memorable.
It did.
Nothing more is needed.
There will be more.
We can top that?
Hold my beer. Canadian isn’t done.
Coach Cavalier and Principal James Bryant insisted I meet recently retired former Canadian football coach Chris Koetting during the game. This wasn’t an invitation to meet any ol’ coach in Texas. When you lead your teams to three football State Championships in Texas, you, seemingly by decree of the governor, receive an appendage to your name.
England does it:
Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Elton John, Sir Lewis Hamilton.
Texas does it, too, albeit with less pomp, formality, and a different naming convention. In this case, “Coach Chris Koetting” becomes “Legendary Coach Chris Koetting.”
I know how it works down here. This man is a big deal. Everyone thinks so. I was hours from learning that I’d need to correct that previous sentence. It should read: “Everyone thinks so—everyone other than Chris Koetting.”
Coach Cavalier had a job to do—a team to coach. His team jumped out to an early lead and never relented. Meanwhile, Principal Bryant served as my chaperone for much of the night. He let me wander around unsupervised at times. But I’d eventually find my way back to him. That wasn’t difficult—he was never far away—keeping an eye on me and all that. We agreed to wait until after halftime before James would introduce me to Coach Koetting.
The second quarter ended. Halftime arrived. One team left the field—the Tulia Hornets would have plenty of time to regroup for the second half. The Canadian Wildcats football players removed their helmets, placed them in an orderly manner on the backline of the end zone, and then returned to midfield.
They were joined by dozens of people, all past their uniform-wearing years. While it’s been a while since some of these folks last walked onto that field, many looked like they could quickly throw on a helmet, jersey, football pants, and shoes and compete admirably in the second half. This was a field where they worked tirelessly to earn Coach Koetting’s respect. That meant everything to them then. Tonight, they returned to Canadian, to Locust Street, to share their respect for him. That means everything to Coach Koetting now.
Tonight, the football field was about to receive a new name:
“Chris Koetting Field at Wildcats Stadium.”
This ceremony didn’t follow the typical post-retirement timeline of deferring such honors for many years—sometimes decades, for this honor to be bestowed. There are times when it’s OK to sidestep those guidelines. This warranted that. This ceremony wasn’t only about the trophies in the high school display case. It was about a special person—the great leader, Chris Koetting, who went from a childhood of playing on the streets and fields of Panhandle, Texas, to having a field named after him in a town 73 miles away.
He made quite an impression.
After winning state championships, Coach Koetting was known for encouraging his players, “Don’t let this be the greatest day of your life.” Go on. Keep striving. Keep doing good things. Top this. Don’t stop here. Tonight, his directive to them boomeranged right back to him. The presence of so many of his former football players at Wildcat Stadium was an example of them abiding by their coach’s directive—they made this another great day in their collective lives.
Can anything equal winning those state championships?
I’ll go out on a limb. Tonight did.
These folks have been on quite a ride with Chris Koetting. All those bus rides around the panhandle. Mostly winning, rarely losing. Then, those trips from Dallas back to Canadian with the championship trophies crowd-surfing from the front of the bus, to the back, then back to the front. Emotions were as high as they can be. That elation thing.
Invincible.
Tonight, the emotions were just as strong but different. Tapped into a different sentiment sector. The reverence sector. All those “yes, sir, no sir” lessons of childhood lead to nights like this. Affirming to someone who lived down the street that they made a difference. Demonstrating by your presence that one man’s leadership still resonates. Still celebrating. All fortunate to have crossed paths with each other.
It’s a heck of a way to say, “Thanks, Coach!”
Another layer, as deep and heavy as the red clay of Texas, had risen to the surface, ever-present on this night. Five months earlier, at the end of the 2023 school year, Coach Koetting and his wife, Rosemary, decided it was time for Chris to retire. The coach was facing another significant adversary—one known as early-onset dementia.
Sobering news.
There’s always a story behind the story, beyond the headline—the under-the-radar stuff. The halftime ceremony was very much about two people, not one. The field would be named after their former coach. Still, the older folks among us are acutely aware of the importance of a supportive wife, mother, and friend delivered to a guy when that marriage thing happens. Tonight was also about Coach Koetting’s lifetime teammate—his wife, Rosemary—a Registered Nurse for more than 20 years, who has taught Health Science careers classes at CHS since 2019 when the Koetting’s twin sons were Seniors.
This was her night, too.
In October of 2024, Rosemary shared that Chris is doing well. Playing a lot of golf. Together, they hiked to the highest peak in New Mexico and ran a half marathon in Jackson, Wyoming. Coach is still accomplishing things off the field—competing again, just as he did with his football teams. But he’s now competing alongside his lifelong teammate, Rosemary.
Coach Koetting’s former football players followed him onto this and other Texas football fields dozens of times. On this night, they’d once again follow their leader. In victory, he preferred to step to the side—letting others receive the credit, let them have their moment. Tonight, it would be impossible for him to slip into the shadows.
This was about the man—the boy who played football in Panhandle, Texas, played games in his neighborhood, and aspired to inspire others. Round peg, round hole. The perfect fit. The right time and place for this chapter of Chris’s life to be lived.
During the ceremony, those who love him are standing behind him. Intentional or figurative, the message was clear: “We’ve got your back, coach, we’ve got your six.”
”It's I got your number, I got your back, when your back's against the wall. You mess with one man you got us all."
I’m a stranger to Canadian. I’ve never met Coach Koetting. That didn’t matter. This ceremony flipped all my frog-in-the-throat switches—happiness, sadness, reverence, and honor. Good people doing something for another. In essence, this ceremony was about the person. The trophies were the derivative of Chris Koetting just being himself.
The ceremony concluded. Halftime was over. It was time for the younger boys to resume playing their game. Meanwhile, Koetting’s former players surrounded him on the sideline as the game continued.
One thing became apparent. I walked over to Principal Bryant and said, “James, I’ll need to skip meeting Coach Koetting tonight. I don’t want to take one single minute away from him and his players. This is not my place. Not my time. It’s his, and it’s theirs.”
In response, James offered an agreeable nod. He understood.
8:54 PM
As the game progressed into the fourth quarter, I was standing on the sideline, not far from those lingering nearby for their opportunity for a quick conversation with the man who’d made such an impact on their lives.
I couldn’t hear those conversations. I didn’t need to. I just needed to observe. The handshakes—the manly hugs—one former player after another approaching Coach Koetting, squaring up in front of him, steadfast eye contact, then offering their words of appreciation. All good, but something was different. Those manly greetings were altered—the traditional handshake, right shoulders bumping together, left arms reaching around with two or three quick back slaps. Ya, that still happened, but with a subtle difference. As guys, we have a time limit on those back slaps. Proper protocol mandates a split-second bump, then a quick release. Then, one or two more. Tonight, those split-seconds turned into full-seconds. The final back slap leading to an embrace. Rules were broken. Those violations of protocol told me all I needed to know.
They love this man.
This is what love looks like. Love for each other. Love for football. Love for Canadian.
One former player talking to Coach Koetting enthusiastically pointed toward the south end zone while sharing a memory. He and the coach laughed heartily. Something happened there. It may have been a decade ago. It connected them then, it will connect them forever. It’s good to have those little things that become forever things—especially when it involves someone else.
A thin line of white chalk—the sideline of the football field, separated all of them from their childhood. Every one of them wanted to cross that line. The calendar tells them no. Many of these guys experienced the pinnacle of their high school sport—Texas High School Football State Champions. They did that together. They write books and make movies about that kind of thing, don’t they?
Most of us don’t know how that variety of sporting elation feels. They do. That’s gone. They aren’t.
Another sentence correction is needed. “That’s gone?” Their elation may have tempered but will always simmer. That’s part of what I’m observing tonight. That feeling of elation persists. They are back here tonight because of that.
All I could do was watch. Those conversations were taking them all across Texas. From one field and bus ride to another. From their lives with Coach Koetting to their lives today. Every one of these guys experienced life as a Wildcat in a different way. Their personal way.
They lived it. I didn’t.
“Their place, not mine,” I kept telling myself. “Their place, not mine.”
Completion of a Tulia Hornet pass led to a short gain. A Canadian Wildcat defensive back made the tackle just a few feet away from me, near the sideline at the 20-yard line. I’d drifted a bit too close to the action. Moments later, a hand firmly clenched my shoulder. I immediately thought, “Security guard—I’m too close to the field.”
I turned around. This was neither a security guard nor law enforcement. One man had separated from his pack. This was a man who, amid one of the biggest nights of his life, was about to make my next 10 minutes among my most memorable.
“Hello, I’m Chris Koetting. Are you the guy writing the story about Canadian and your hometown?”
What the…
“Yes, sir, coach, I’m that guy. My name is Tom Smith. I’ve enjoyed my first day in Canadian. It’s an honor to meet you.”
I suspect my response wasn’t that smooth. I was too surprised—a bit staggered that he somehow knew who I was and that he approached me. It was supposed to be the other way around—me asking for a few minutes of his time–not him asking for mine.
Curiosity is a wonderful thing. Coach Koetting seems blessed with an abundance.
“What motivated you to write this story?”
“What led you here to Canadian?”
“When did you start writing?”
“What kinds of stories have you written?”
“Where will we be able to see and read this story?”
This was one of the most significant nights of Coach Koetting’s sports-consumed life. With his kindness, he knocked down my preconceived notions of “not my place, not my time.” He made me feel at home. Even more, on this momentous night when this football field was named after him, Coach Koetting did something I’m still trying to comprehend:
He made ME feel like I was the most important person at Wildcat Stadium.
There were roughly 792 people at the game that night. In terms of importance, I ranked #792. But I could have floated back to the hotel.
The “what the heck happened” feeling persists nearly a year later.
My thoughts often flow back to Coach Nelson in Minnesota. Coach Koetting wasn’t just asking questions. He’d stolen a page from Coach Nelson’s playbook. Coach Koetting was giving me the “forget about me” treatment.
Two great leaders. Same tactic. This is how it’s done.
I drove to Texas to learn about Canadian. Our brief conversation left me dumbfounded and enlightened. I’m 63 years old. I’ve met a lot of people. I don’t ever remember someone making that strong of an impression on me. It was only 10 freaking minutes.
Or was it?
Behind those minutes were the years of Chris Koetting evolving from that youth football player in Panhandle, Texas, to becoming the leader known statewide as a Hall of Fame Coach. But on this momentous night, it didn’t feel like I was crossing paths with a legendary coach. He didn’t present himself that way. There was no discussion about all the wins and championships. My takeaway is that I crossed paths with a good, humble, thoughtful person.
Be nice. Show interest. Demonstrate respect. Put others first.
Life lesson delivered.
It’s uncommon. Too uncommon.
Coach Koetting—the common man exhibiting uncommon kindness.
Another life lesson: I should strive to be more like him.
That’s it. That’s the trick. The secret. Men with football fields named after them seem wired in this forget-about-me way.
A few hours after serenading his daughter and the rest of the crowd at the pep fest, Brandon Wall, the Head Coach of Canadian’s basketball team and assistant coach for football, said, “Considering what he’s done for the community, nobody deserves this more. And probably, nobody wants it less. That’s just how humble he is. It was never about him. It was always about the team and the rest of the coaches. He’s the best for all those reasons, none of which include wins and losses.”
I met many wonderful people as this story evolved. Not just coaches. All living honorable lives. All worthy of notoriety–all deserving of a sign-maker breaking out the large block-letter stencils to hang above a press box or stadium entryway with their names etched forever.
There just aren’t enough fields.
My day in Canadian was ending—the curtain about to close. A day unlike any other for me. From the elementary school this morning to Coach Koetting tonight. These people are all so supportive, welcoming, and encouraging.
Of Coach Koetting, I thought, “He’s like everyone else in this town.” Or do I have it backward? Maybe everyone else in this town is just like him? Or, are they all like someone else—the unforgettable influencer highlighted in the next chapter?
9:17 PM
The game was over. The teams shook hands. The Tulia Hornets boarded their bus for the 153-mile trip towards home. Another Friday night at a football field in Texas comes to an end. Stadium lights at 700 football fields from east Texas to west will soon simultaneously be turned off. The wind turbines will come up for air—catch their breath.
“But Tom, their sole purpose is to come up for air. When they do that, they are working, not resting. And if it’s a windy night, they’ll keep spinning. You need a different metaphor.”
“Nah, I’m sticking with this one. I like it.
9:37 PM
This is the first time I’ve seen this.
While covering dozens of football games for the Dallas Morning News, we’d write a four or five-paragraph postgame story known as “The Gamer.” Then—within 15 minutes of the game ending, I’d call the newspaper headquarters in downtown Dallas, review the story with one of their editors, then upload it to their system for publishing online and in the newspaper the following day.
Within 20 minutes of the game’s end, I’ve packed my gear. I am ready to capture my obligatory game-over, stadium-empty picture. And when I say empty, I mean empty. Every other stadium would be vacated by now. The athletes, band members, cheerleaders, and parents already gone. This was the romantic part of me capturing those authentic Friday Night Lights pictures from dozens of North Texas football fields.
My wife is re-reading that sentence. She can’t stop laughing. One word triggers her.
Meanwhile, in Canadian, nobody seems to leave the game early to beat the traffic. But then, most of them probably walked to the game. One of those small-town, romantic things.
She’s laughing again.
Twenty minutes after the game’s end, dozens of people were still on the field. Parents, players, cheerleaders, and coaches gathered near the south end zone. It looked like they were speed-dating, moving from one cluster of conversationalists to the next and the next. They talked, laughed, and hugged. Future Wildcats—probably violating their typical curfew and bedtime were playing tackle football at midfield. They were collecting memories to go along with their bumps and bruises.
9:57 PM
Most of them are still here. This isn’t normal. What’s with these people?
Eventually, a few would slowly—almost regrettably, walk up the hill towards the parking lot. The adults seemed reluctant to leave—like they were kids again, and this was their night to stay out late.
10:16 PM
Some of them are still there. It’s been almost an hour since the game ended. I’m growing impatient.
Then, one of the ever-present voices in my head stepped up to the microphone and asked me, “Tom, why would they leave? They’re already home. This is it. The south end zone of Chis Koetting Field is just an extension of their backyard, patio, or deck. They are as comfortable here as relaxing on their couch or recliner on East Cheyenne Avenue.”
10:18 PM
After that reprimand, my “patience” was rewarded.
Sixty-one minutes after the game ended, the final person exited the field. I took the symbolic picture that will reside forever in my digital photo album. It will prove that I was once here–that I saw a game at Koetting Field.
Now, it was my turn. I was the one in no hurry to leave. Just me and this football field. I stood there and looked around. A mental replay of everything I saw today—trying to understand and make it stick. This wasn’t just a football game. It was a full day of watching how this town functions. Fifteen hours of observing their long-standing traditions. Fifteen emotional hours of answers to my ‘why Canadian” question.
I was granted several hours of privilege tonight—free to roam the stadium, observe, and learn. A welcome guest in their home. Their home away from home.
Chris Koetting Field at Wildcat Stadium.
Their home sweet home.
Chapter 47: Let's Go to Work!
There’s a daily contest occurring in Canadian. It’s called “Who can say the nicest things about someone else?” A cascading stream of compliments for one person after another. Some compliments flowing against the current to the past, others delivering me to the present.
“Coach Flowers was a father figure to us.”
“You’ve got to talk to Luke Flowers about his camp.”
“Don’t miss what Principal Risley has going on at the Elementary School.”
“You have to talk to Coach Lynch–nobody was more influential.”
“We learned from the legend—Coach Koetting.”
And then there was one more.
“Just wait until you meet Coach Cavalier.”
Nobody adequately warned me about that ball of energy—the purveyor of optimism, known down here as Andy Cavalier, or “Coach Cav,” for short.
Where do I start? How about a parking lot? I don’t have all the details but it appears to have played out something like this:
Police officers were called at 4:30 in the morning to investigate a disturbance outside a sleepy hotel in central Texas. There seemed to be a party going on in the parking lot at this oddest of hours. Who would possibly be out there celebrating at 4:30 am? Hotel residents peaked out their windows, then saw the the flashing lights of law enforcement vehicles converging. Hotel tenants locked their doors, including that minimally useful chain-link thing you slide in the uber-secure metal slot.
The revelry was about to end, or at least be suppressed for at least five or ten minutes before its boundless energy source was released from custody.
There was indeed a celebration going on. But it was a party of one. One man celebrating like few others. One man celebrating—not his birthday, anniversary, favorite holiday—nothing like that. He was celebrating today—this day. Not yesterday or tomorrow. Today.
In the hotel parking lot. At 4:30 in the morning. A day like any other day—this gift of 24 hours to appreciate his life and to try influence others towards making the most of this day and the limited time we have together.
Andy Cavalier—the Algebra teacher at Canadian High School—the loving father of three—the football coach of the Canadian Wildcats football team, was in the parking lot recording a video.
The acronym of the day was TGIT—“Thank goodness it’s Today.”
The officer approached Andy.
“Sir, we’ve received reports of someone disturbing the peace out here in this parking lot. You are the only person out here. Do you mind telling us what you’re doing?”
“Yes, sir. Good morning sir. I was just standing near this parking lot light post, pointed my camera , then I clicked this button to begin recording and I started talking.”
Do you have some identification?”
“Yes, sir. Here’s my driver’s license”
Wait. It says “Coach Cavalier.” Is Coach you real first name?
“No, my real name is Andy but the folks down at the DMV are so used to calling everyone in my family “Coach” that they figured we might as well put it on my license. ”
“Ok Coach, what exactly was going on out here? ”
Andy responded, “Do you want to hear the whole thing, straight from the top?”
“Sure, but I have to advise you that anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You also have the right to consult with an attorney.”
“No worries about that officer. I’ll tell you everything.”
The officers looked up at the hotel windows now filled with robe-wearing tourists.
“Well, we’ll have no shortage of witnesses to hearing your side of the story. Go ahead, Coach.”
“OK, here’s how it all went down.”
He cleared his throat, extended the selfie-stick, clicked the “record” button, then…
“Good morning, happy Tuesday!”
“Come on, go ahead put your feet on the ground, get your knees pumping, get your head on the swivel go get you a big old drink of water, get that digestive system flowing, turn around and make your bed, start checking things off your list and go ahead and decide right now whatever life throws at you, you’re gonna’ make today great. Let’s do it together for each other.”
“Come on! Here we’re going back into “Legacy” by James Kerr “What the All Blacks Can Teach Us About the Business of Life.” So much great stuff in here. Still talking about our responsibility of leaders training other leaders. The “mission command model” requires the leader to provide a clearly defined goal, the resources and the time frame. You see the rest is up to the individuals in the field. A clear understanding of the leader’s intention and the right training are the key to the implementation of mission command.
Now listen to this. “By arming staff with intention, leaders can enable their people to respond appropriately to changing context without losing sight of the task tactical imperative.”
“Yes, so here’s the thing guys— right here in Canadian, right from the top our School Board our Superintendent says our mission is “Every Child Every Day” through high expectations, through a safe learning environment, to developing character, and to be preparing kids for their future. So everything we do academically, everything we do athletically, everything we do in the band, in our “One Act Play,” in our extracurricular activities it all fits together so that we can prepare our kids for the future, so that we can do it with high expectations, so that we can do it safely and so that we can develop their character because we want a fully well-rounded person to go out into the world, into our community and make it better together. That’s why we’re here. That’s how you train leaders.”
“Come on. (He then whistles). Let’s go to work!!
Andy turned off the recording. He was done.
Bath-robed hotel onlookers stopped brushing their teeth so they could cheer.
One officer asked, “Do you do this every day?”
“No, but almost every Monday back home in Canadian. If I’m feeling up to it, I’ll do it on other days of the week too. Like this morning, I just had something on my mind I wanted to share. Didn’t want to hold this in!”
The officers were dumbfounded. One looked towards Andy.
“Sir, can you give us a minute?“
They stepped away, then huddled. “What do we do with this guy? Sure, he’s disturbing the peace but, if it’s always those type of messages, we need him to continue disturbing the peace.”
“I say we let him go. If we press charges the worst he’s going to get is some sort of community service.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“So, he’d be sentenced to keep doing what he was sentenced for?”
This is not square peg, round hole kind of stuff. By day, the Algebra teacher; by afternoon, the Athletic Director; by evening, the football and track coach; by morning, the motivator. Oh—and husband to Wendy and father of three.
It’s dizzying to imagine. When does he sleep?
Well, that’s another story.
Andy said, “I get up at three or four most mornings. In the summertime, I can sleep in until four.”
I heard what he said, but still—for entertainment purposes, I asked him to repeat it.
“Even before the alarm rings, I’m probably already awake. I just use my watch for an alarm. I’m just kind of waiting for it to finally go off so I can get up and go.” I don’t know—Wendy, what would you say—most days I’m pretty much out of the house by four, or so?”
His tone felt apologetic as if he should have his days started even earlier.
Andy’s wife, Wendy, was sitting beside him. She tilted her head, shrugged, and smiled agreeably, then shared, “I think he realizes what God instilled in him is to love and serve others in his community. His specialty seems to be growing young people into men. We’ve been very fortunate to land here in a place where we get to do that. He just loves kids. He’s always looking for ways to get, do, and be better.”
Based on everything I’ve learned about Coach Cavalier, I made a rhetorical statement directed toward Wendy. “And it’s legitimate with him—it’s not a front.”
Wendy laughed. “Oh, no! It’s not a front. It’s very real. I don’t think a person can do that (wake up that early) unless they know deep in their soul that they have a purpose in life and it’s a perfect fit for them.”
Andy countered with, “I do need sleep. During the school year, I’m getting to be at eight or maybe nine. But life happens too, you know. We’ve got kids we’re chasing. Actually, football season is the easiest time for me to catch up on my sleep because it’s pretty much just practice all week, come home, grab dinner, then go to bed. It takes a strong coach’s wife to be the wife of Coach Cavalier. Wendy does so much for our family.”
Residents of the six houses nearest to the intersection of Locust Street and East 17th Street in Canadian don’t need a calendar to remind them which day it is. On Tuesdays through Sundays, it’s chirping birds, crowing roosters, the neighbor’s garage door opening, and the pitter-patter footsteps of a young boy or girl delivering the newspaper to a doorstep. OK, the last one is a relic of the past. How about the sound of alerts on a smartphone that rattle, buzz, and vibrate the moment it awakens from sleep mode?
Six days of the sounds of morning. The seventh day—Mondays—are different.
As they transition from weekend to workweek, their Monday mornings are often jolted by a window-rattling whistle followed by a trademark rallying cry:
“LET’S GO TO WORK!”
The sound waves ripple from 1607 Locust Street, to1605 Locust Street, to 1603, then 1601, even down to 1513 and 1511.
Like clockwork. The train whistle and rallying cry.
It’s the football coach by himself. The pre-sunrise parking lot outside Miles Henderson Field House is Andy’s recording studio—the stage for his One Act Plays. Hundreds of plays typically scripted with similar openings like, “Go ahead, put your feet on the ground, get your knees pumping, get your head on the swivel, go get you a big old drink of water, get that digestive system flowing, turn around and make your bed, start checking things off your list.” Each play concludes with a thought-provoking, depth-filled ending.
Local law enforcement doesn’t show up. They know better. There’s something to see here, but no need for alarm. Nobody is complaining.
Andy stands alone. Unlike Friday nights, there are no cheers here. Just a guy trying to make a difference. Sharing his feelings. A good citizen. Encouraging others. Social media messages of building instead of tearing down. Being vulnerable, yet strong.
Max Dumbauld, a 2024 graduate from Canadian high school, said, “I’ve known Coach Cav since I was a kid. I was fortunate to grow up with (his son) Camren, who has been one of my best buddies. I’ve never seen a man so driven and committed to not only making us better athletes but also making us better men. I’ve never seen anyone of his own free will get up every morning, go work out, ride his bike, or run up to the field house and provide motivation. He’s always there for you—not only on the field but off the field, too. I’ve had many great conversations with him, especially when I got hurt my junior year. He was really there for me. I’ve never seen him in a bad mood. He doesn’t settle for “good enough.” He’s definitely pushed me beyond what I thought I could do.”
Max laughed while sharing the following, “Now, I will have to say I’ve had complaints here and there about him just because our workouts are so hard!”
“But at the end of the day, I knew it was for the greater good. He helps you understand that. He does a great job at just being able to read everybody and connect with you personally. Everyone’s not the same. Everyone has different backgrounds. He understands that and really knows how to connect with us kids. He’s a role model I’ll look up to forever and tell my kids about.”
I arrived at Wildcat Stadium to see a football game. I was immediately sidetracked by three letters of the alphabet in the south end zone. A series of large stones—heavy buggers, lean into the hill overlooking Chris Koetting Field. Each year, the letters change to reflect a guiding principle of the team. In the autumn of 2023, the rocks form three letters:
“AVO”
I looked towards the north end zone expecting to see:
“CADO”
Once again, my life spent in the pool’s shallow end limited my detection of the depth of soul possessed by others. I arrived in Canadian looking for an integrated relationship between a football team and their community. AVO was another clue that I’d found it. But what did it mean?
I performed a search on my smartphone: “What does AVO stand for?”
Alaska Volcano Observatory
Apprehended Violence Order
Apple vs Orange
Australian Valuation Office
Amps – Volts – Ohms
Adversary and Vulnerability Operations
There’s even a website called acronymfinder.com. They didn’t have anything obvious. Maybe it would indeed be AVOCADO, but they ran out of rocks?
Then I stumbled upon Andy Cavalier’s recorded message on social media from Saturday, August 12, 2023. It conveyed the guiding principles the Canadian Wildcats football team would chase during the forthcoming season. Coach Cavalier stated:
“Good morning, happy Saturday! Man, I know I don’t usually wake you up early on Saturday, but it’s a special Saturday. Today, we’ve got our first scrimmage, our first competition, our first contest of the year, where we get to go out and take the field. We’ll see what comes our way, see what shows up that we weren’t expecting, see what we have to overcome, see what we get to celebrate together. I absolutely cannot wait.
I just want to share a little bit with you this morning. If you’re on our team remind you, and if you’re not on our team, share with you what we’re talking about on our team this year.
Here we go.
Our motto this year is “AVO.” Love conquers all. Here’s what it means to me.
The idea is that no matter how hard something gets, love is the only bond that is unbreakable. It’s the only motivation that will keep you fighting when things get really hard; I will never stop fighting for you. Why? Because I love you.
If I love my teammates, I will do everything to the best of my ability.
Anytime I feel like taking a shortcut, I won’t.
No matter how difficult things get, I will keep fighting.
I will lift you up when you are struggling because I love you.
Any other motivation will fail when it gets hard. If I play to win, at some point, it will get too hard. If I play for revenge, at some point, it’ll get too hard. If I play for myself, at some point, it will get too hard. If I play for recognition at some point, it’ll get too hard.
But listen, if I prepare with the level of detail that proves my love. If I practice with the level of passion that displays my love. If I play with the level of effort that is created by love, I will have an extremely positive impact on my team, my program, and my community.
Woo—ooo!
Hey man, AVO, love conquers all because it’s a choice, and therefore, when you choose, you have given yourself the opportunity to hang on tighter than anybody even knew you could.
Come on, man, let’s go to work!”
AVO. “Amor Vincit Omnia.” Love Conquers All.
Max Dumbauld told me that the team gets together a couple days before football season starts. They move the rocks, mow the grass, then rearrange the stones to support this year’s motto. Max says it’s a great bonding experience. I’d say it’s a challenging workout.
Where does Cavalier find this stuff? I go to high school football games to eat hot dogs and watch football. Now, I’m forced to decipher acronyms. If warned of these acronyms, I might have expected to see something predictable like: “GTG – Go Team Go!” But Coach Nelson is guided by an acronym back in Minnesota too. Last month, I was captivated by the “Forget About Me, I Love You” gang. Now, I’m in “Love Conquers All” territory.
The spirits are most definitely messing with me.
Andy Cavalier, August 19, 2024: Recording shared on social media.
“Good morning! Happy Monday!
I want to start off this week been telling you. I. Love. You. I love you. Here’s the thing. It has nothing to do with who you are or if I even know you. It has nothing to do with what you can do for me or the kind of a person I am. It has everything to do with that I believe I was given the opportunity to live on this earth to love the people around me. To use the time that I’ve been given to hopefully have a positive impact on the people that God decides to intersect my life with. So how about it? How about we go about trying to impact each other in a positive way and let’s attack this week together.”
On Monday mornings, I could waste two hours seeking guidance from propagandists posing as journalists on cable news networks. Or, I could spend two minutes listening to Andy.
Easy decision.
His words from that video led me back to October of 2023, when Coach Koetting went out of his way to visit with me. Then Reagan Risley, Jeff Quisenberry, James Bryant, Michelle Thompson, Colby Leech, the Pep Fest, and the folks at Mesa View Assisted Living.
This is all tied together like the laces on my shoes.
Either my built-in bull(crap) detector needs recalibration, or my intuition and observations are on target. I’m trusting the latter. This place is different. Widespread enthusiastic positivity. The best of intentions.
Of course, everyone has bad days.
No town is perfect.
But…
Andy Cavalier had a good role model. One of the best. His father, Dennis Cavalier, spent three short years in Goddard, Kansas. Forty-seven years after packing the U-Haul and leaving town, Dennis Cavalier was inducted into the Goddard High School Hall of Fame.
Three years of influence led to the Hall Of Fame nearly five decades later.
The following excerpt was found on the Goddard Education Foundation’s website dedicated to their Class of 2024 Hall Of Fame inductees:
“At Goddard, Cavalier was not just focused on winning games; he was dedicated to building a sense of community and pride within the school. He established several traditions that became a cornerstone of the Goddard High School experience. One of these traditions was the post-practice walk through town, where the team would engage with the community, building a strong bond between the school and its supporters.”
Thousands of men and women have served as coaches. Most emulated one or more of their childhood coaches. They learned what to do to become a good coach and, just as importantly, what not to do. Following the coaching handbook is relatively easy. Innovating isn’t. It takes foresight and courage to expand the realm of possibilities. Dennis Cavalier coached beyond the rote “X’s and O’s.” He moved the profession forward.
He took his team on walks around downtown. It wasn’t rocket science. A simple idea. Something all of us do. But taking an unconventional group through a conventional life experience. Dennis defied convention with expansive thinking. A game changer.
In addition to the Hall of Fame in Kansas, Dennis Cavalier has a building named after him in Texas beside the football field in Pampa.
Andy had good reason to try to stay awake.
Dennis Cavalier’s Hall of Fame induction video
Like father…
On the morning of February 6, 2024—three months after I first visited Canadian, I found this story online. Neither Andy, nor Wendy told me about this.
“The Texas High School Coaches Education Foundation (THSCEF) announced via media release that Andy Cavalier of Canadian High School has been named the 2021 recipient of its “Grant Teaff Coaching Beyond the Game Award.”
According to the release, “this award is presented annually at the Texas Coaches Leadership Summit to an individual who has impacted their team, school and community through their passion and commitment to “coach beyond the game” and honors their leadership in creating and sustaining programs that address the social issues today.”
…like son.
View Coach Cavalier’s video by clicking on either link to the right.
Out of all the schools in Texas, I randomly emailed this football coach, who I soon learned was also the Athletic Director at Canadian High School and had been named “Teach of the Year” for the Canadian Independent School District.
Twice.
Andy shared, “I think that I understood early that in communities like ours, teachers and coaches can be more influential in the future of the young men than anybody else in the community. There are plenty of things in front of our kids in their own lives and in our world these days through technology—they’re just inundated with negative influences and things that won’t help them be their very best. So I think I just understood early that as a coach, you can really try to use your position to impact a lot of people in your community in a positive way.”
Then, Andy deflected credit.
“My dad was the best at that.”
I’d gone looking for hope that goodness like that occurring in Minnesota, led by Tom Nelson, is indeed happening somewhere else—anywhere else.
And I picked this guy?
I’d never heard of Andy Cavalier. I didn’t even know how to pronounce his last name. While growing up in Minnesota, I’ve long been puzzled by the pronunciations of French Canadian hockey players. There were Yvan Cournoyer, Jacques Laperriere, Jacque Plante, Walt Tkachuk, Bryan Trottier, then, much later, Patrick Roy.
Then, the hockey name closest to football’s Andy Cavalier is Vincent Lecavalier.
Was it ka-val-leer or ka-val-ee-ay or ka-val-yay?”
I’m pretty sure I messed this up during my first phone call to Andy.
“May I speak with Andy Ka-Val-Lay?”
I stumbled. It was hockey’s fault. Eventually, I’d get it right. (It’s ka-va-leer).
This was almost the story of ranch hand, farmer, and cowboy Andy Cavalier. Andy and Wendy lived and taught in Pampa. Andy was an assistant on his dad’s coaching staff. Weeks away from marriage, life was as good as it gets. Then, tragedy—Wendy’s father, Rick Vincent, died.
A couple years later, while pregnant with their first child, Wendy met a guy named Ken Burger. Immersed in the joyous thoughts of starting a family, Wendy immediately thought of her mom, Lynn. Her mom was alone. Wendy thought she and Ken would be a perfect match. Lynn resisted. She made it clear that she was not interested in any sort of relationship.
Less than a year Lynn and Ken were married. Ken had won her over. They settled on his ranch south of Pampa, where they continue to reside. Andy would soon spend his summers working for his father-in-law at the ranch. Wendy and Andy eventually moved into a house nearby.
Then Andy went through one of those life-assessment phases.
“We finished the football season in the Fall of 2002 when we got beat in the quarterfinals. It was early December. I went over to my parent’s house the next weekend. I told my dad that I was going to finish the school year, but I was going to get out of education, and I was going to go to work with my father-in-law on his ranch full-time.”
“We were finishing out the school year, and on Memorial Day weekend, my dad died of cardiac arrest while mowing the lawn.”
Andy was 30 years old. He’d wanted to spend as much time as possible with his dad. He’d been doing that. Then this. Within five years, Wendy and Andy both lost their fathers.
Andy stepped away from teaching and coaching for a life of farming and ranching. He loved the work and the environment.
“Eventually, I just felt like God had given us this opportunity to be out there full-time with our family. We were led to move out to the farm maybe to create a bit of a buffer for me personally between having to walk back in that field house every day and figuring out how to handle that. We did get to kind of separate ourselves emotionally from that whole thing.”
“We stayed out there for a year-and-a-half. I loved it out there. It felt like it was a great way for a family to live. But when it came down to it, I didn’t go to bed thinking I gotta hurry up and get to sleep so I can get up and get going. It was not that way.”
Andy’s mom, Kathy Cavalier, seems to love football as much as anyone in the family. “When I was attending Southwestern College in Winfield, Kansas, my part-time job to help pay tuition was to be the secretary to the football coach. I had to assemble his weekly scouting reports, type them up, and distribute them to the coaches. That coach (Harold “Bud” Elliott) went on to coach college football at Eastern New Mexico in Portales. Both of my boys played for him there. That was a full circle.”
The other son Kathy references is Tony Cavalier, Defensive Coordinator at Amarillo High School. Of him, Andy said, “If you’re looking for a good football coach to talk to, my brother is a way better coach than me.”
I told Kathy, “You must be proud of your boys.” Seven months later, I listened to a recording of her response.
“Very.”
One word, expressed in a mother’s-love kind of tone. One darn football-inspired word said in that tone evoked tears. No, not Kathy’s tears.
Mine.
Wendy and Andy’s time on the farm had served its purpose. Decompression. Contemplation. Recalibration.
Then, the inevitable—a resurgence of the Cavalier DNA. Andy was once again impatiently checking his watch at 2:55 am.
“Good morning, students.”
“Welcome back, Mr. Cavalier!”
Inside Miles P. Henderson Field House, a series of names and dates are displayed on the wall under the header of “Be A Great Ancestor.” The display lists the names of almost everyone who’s worn the Canadian Wildcats uniform dating back to 1915. Each name is listed on a row with others who’ve worn the same jersey number. It’s a long list—the display spans perhaps three feet high and10 feet wide.
Many names appear multiple times. Grandfathers, sons, and grandsons. The branches of football family trees. Many names are no longer recognized by Canadian residents. No recollections of the face, the smile, or the life lived after high school. No ancestors remain. Only the name and jersey number of a boy who once ran onto a field to play a game.
My brain drifts. I imagine a group of boys wearing black and gold jerseys taking a knee in front of these names before the season begins. Robin Williams. John Keating. Andy now preserves this tradition.
Their coach.
Their captain.
Andy shared, “Before I finished high school, I knew I wanted to be a coach. My dad was a coach, my mom was a teacher. That’s what I grew up around. I was around the field house all the time when I was little. I can literally still remember times when, probably before elementary school—I don’t know how old I was—maybe I was in elementary school, where my one thought while going to bed was to try to stay up all night so I could be awake when my dad left in the morning. I wanted to go with him.”
“By the time I woke up, he was usually gone.”
Fifty years later—that other quote:
“Even before the alarm rings, I’m probably already awake. I just use my watch for an alarm. I’m just kind of waiting for it to finally go off so I can get up and go.”
They often say a son follows in his father’s footsteps—becomes his father’s son. Like his father before him, Andy is out the door early. He goes to the field house, the stadium, the school, the church, wherever the town and his family need him. But now, a role reversal has taken place. Andy now brings his father with him. All those lessons learned. It’s all still there. In the best possible spiritual sense, Dennis Cavalier follows his son out the door. Always with him while Andy makes a difference in their community—helping kids find their way. Every step of the way.
Best of all, Andy’s mom is here to watch her son grow into the man his father was.
Andy no longer oversleeps.
Carpe diem.
Andy is a good ancestor.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, On December 14, 2024, Andy Cavalier served as a wedding officiant for the first time. I’m awaiting confirmation from the bride and groom that the ceremony began at 4 am.
Chapter 49: Way of the Wildcats
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5, 2024
During my initial conversation with Andy Cavalier last October, he suggested that if I’m seeking to best understand Canadian, I need to meet with Luke Flowers regarding a camp the high school junior first conducted in June of 2023 and would be continuing in 2024.
I woke up in Denver on the morning of June 5, 2024, and saw a post on Facebook regarding the success of the first two days of the “Way of the Wildcats” camp in Canadian. “Oh crap,” I thought. I’d forgotten that the camp was this week. I couldn’t miss this. I have to go. But it’s Wednesday. Camp ends Friday.
My wife, Vickie, probably thought: “How convenient—he found yet another excuse for a road trip.”
It’s appalling that she would have such suspicions of me—but, as always, she was 100% correct. Note: now that I’ve been married for 11 years, I’ve learned to include the “as always, she was 100% correct” verbiage in sentences like the previous one.
As Vickie foretold, by noon, I was driving back to Texas.
The following morning in Canadian, after my customary bowls—yes, plural—yes, at least two bowls of Fruit Loops at the Best Western, I followed the Wildcat paw prints painted on the blacktop of East Cedar Street. One massive paw print after another and another. I had a bit of a chill when pondering if there’s a real, living, gigantic wildcat in town. Maybe there’s more than one. An entire family? Possibly many families. If true, they get hungry and don’t have easy access to Fruit Loops.
Then, the back-and-forth incessant self-talk:
“Tom, don’t be crazy.”
“But why would their football team be called the Wildcats if there weren’t a lot of wildcats roaming around town? My hometown team is known as the Agates. There are plenty of agates down on the beach beside Lake Superior.”
“Tom, don’t be crazy.
“I mean, it’s part of the name WILD—CATS. They aren’t tame—these are free-range wild animals.”
“Tom, …”
“They must be on the prowl—hunting for breakfast. And here I am.”
“Tom, don’t be crazy.”
“Those paw prints are enormous. Those are big cats.”
“Tom, don’t be crazy.”
“If they see me leaving this car, I’m doomed.”
The paw prints never seem to end. I turned right on Locust Street, headed south, rechecked my rearview mirror to ensure I wasn’t being followed—or stalked, then saw one of my favorite sites—an expansive high school football stadium parking lot. My comfort zone. My happy place.
Yep, a favorite site. A parking lot. It helps that stadium lights tower above and a football field rests nearby. But it’s the parking lot that gets to me.
Am I the only one?
Can’t be.
I nestled my Ford Edge between a pair of old-school pickup trucks–those well-acquainted with dirt roads, stream beds, and’ ranch rounds’—a pickup worthy of one of the George’s—Strait or Jones, to write a song about. I turned off the engine and opened the door; then my brain shifted away from cats and F-150s to pose a surprising question:
Am I in the right place?
In all its beauty, Wildcat Stadium was just beyond the press box and bleachers—a stone’s throw away. But something seemed off. Why were the sound waves on the south side of Canadian filled with Rick Springfield’s early ’80s pop hit “Jesse’s Girl?” I quickly detected that the music reverberated through the cinder blocks encasing Miles T. Henderson Field House. This is June of 2024. Jesse’s Girl? Were some of Canadian’s finest senior citizens participating in a “Yoga to the Oldies” session inside? I was curious but hesitant to open the door and peek inside.
My trepidation turned to relief when I didn’t see senior yoga. Instead, I saw a first-class weight room with young athletes rotating from station to station. Circuit training. Grinding. Teamwork. Buddies with buddies—inspiring each other.
It was so inspiring that I even thought about working out. Maybe walk a lap around the track? But I looked at the forecast. It’s going to be 100 degrees today. I can’t risk heat exhaustion—I have a story to write. Never mind that it was only 74 degrees at 7:12 am and wouldn’t reach 100 until 4 pm.
Can’t take that chance.
As I watched the boys cycle through agility drills outside the field house, I had a flashback to 20 years earlier at the Ford Rouge Plant assembly line tour in the suburbs of Detroit. I’d never seen anything like it. There, I witnessed a methodical station-to-station assembly process whose components included side panels, quarter panels, windshields, wipers, tires, and motors.
Inside Henderson Field House, the applied components I observed were leadership, commitment, camaraderie, teamwork, and the key driver for all of it—the dreams held by each athlete to be the best Wildcat they can be.
In Michigan, I watched Detroit build F-150 pickup trucks. In Texas, I’m watching Canadian build young men. I don’t recall Rick Springfield’s presence in the Motor City. Still, judging from the results that have played out at Wildcat Stadium for many years, I surrendered to the possibility that “Jesse’s Girl” might be the most inspirational song of all time.
But still not inspirational enough for me to take a lap or two around the track.
When the morning workout ended for the high school athletes, the focus shifted a short distance down the steep hill to Koetting Field. With that, some high school athletes who’d arrived hours earlier to build themselves up now switched gears. They were now the builders—the mentors. These Canadian Wildcats gave up a cherished week of their summer—the first week of June, to inspire the younger kids of Canadian and beyond in the “Way of the Wildcat Camp.”
As vehicles cycled through the expansive parking lot surrounding Wildcat Stadium, several little campers offered their “bye Moms” and “bye dads.” Parents drove away knowing their children were in good hands—safe to experience another idyllic day of childhood in Canadian. Speaking of which, a few boys expressed their emerging independence by riding their bikes through the neighborhood streets to the stadium.
I was there for day four of the daily sessions, each starting at 8:30 am and ending at 12:30 pm. This is June. Texas heat. I’d expect great enthusiasm and energy on the first day of a camp. By day four, it’s fair to expect dissipation. There was none of that. The kids were locked in, eager to impress their heroes.
This was pre-pigeon-hole football. Boys genetically predisposed to becoming offensive linemen were running routes and catching passes. The smallest boy on the field was snapping a ball back to the quarterback. The “quarterback,” a husky lad who will likely spend his high school years pummeling running backs.
This isn’t structured football. This is fun.
Day 4 featured athletic training with numerous agility drills, football-focused drills, a game called “splat,” and frequent huddles where the kids could rest, rehydrate, and absorb the lessons offered by the camp staff members.
These youngsters didn’t have to travel with their parents to Arlington, Lubbock, or Norman to see their heroes playing for the Dallas Cowboys, Texas Tech Red Raiders, or Oklahoma Sooners. Their parents just needed mom to drop them off at Koetting Field.
First in line. A childhood mission. First in line when the lunch bell rings at school. First in line at the Dairy Queen. First in line at the bakery, at the amusement park, at McDonalds, at the movie theater ticket office. First in line at the dentist.
Umm…my apologies. Sometimes, I get carried away and don’t know when to stop.
An eight-year-old boy was now first in line at the “Way of the Wildcats” camp. It was his turn. His mission was to run 10 yards as fast as he could, then plant his left foot firmly into the turf of Koetting Field, veer right towards the sideline, look over his right shoulder, and finally, reach up to catch the football, which was gently, and accurately spiraling towards him.
This boy has spent his childhood catching passes on the streets and in the backyards of Canadian. But this pass isn’t thrown by his big brother or best buddy. This is a connection with one of his heroes—Camren Cavalier.
During the 2023 season, Canadian Wildcats quarterback Cam Cavalier set an all-time record for a high school football player in Texas with 83 total touchdowns—rushing and passing combined. The coach’s son has thrown thousands of passes. Set records. Were any of those 83 touchdown passes more critical than the passes he threw to those campers during the first week of June?
I don’t think so.
The boy who caught that pass would likely contend that Cam now has 84 total touchdowns this year.
In that boy’s heart, Cam has.
A different connection was made on the other side of the field. A boy had fallen away from the pack. Not first in line. Not even in line. This camper stood alone in the corner of the end zone—distressed about something. Emiliano Hernandez saw him, walked over, took a knee, listened, then shared a few thoughts. That boy spent the rest of the session motoring around Koetting Field. The right person said the right things to the right boy at the right time. Day brightened. Downright perfect.
One pass completed, one bit of understanding and encouragement shared. Those two connections epitomized the rhythm of the morning.
We typically become what we most often see and hear. Life in small towns inherently provides more intersectional opportunities with folks you look up to. Connections have an increased chance of becoming impactful versus fly-by. Kids will observe then make decisions. I see how this person carries herself and how that person is the opposite. Positive citizenry is a blessing for parents.
Sports camps have become profit centers for former athletes posing as prophets while preaching, “I’m the one who can get your son or daughter a Division 1 scholarship.” Desperate parents fall for it. “Well, everyone else is doing it. This one is an ‘Elite’camp. It must be better than the ‘Selects’ camp we sent the kids to last summer. They didn’t seem to improve much after that camp. Wait, is a camp for elites better than a camp for selects? Or is it the other way around?”
“Oh well, what’s another few thousand dollars? It will be worth it when he signs his first NFL contract.”
This camp is different.
It is the creation of Luke Flowers, then a high school junior, now a recent 2024 graduate. Flowers, the grandson of Miles Henderson’s coach, David Flowers, assembled quite a team to help him. He didn’t have to look far for help. His childhood friends—his teammates—the guys blessed to learn from Chris Koetting and Andy Cavalier were now transferring everything they knew about football, leadership, and citizenry to the next generation of Wildcats.
While Luke created the camp, he is far from alone. His teammates are once again with him on this field. Clay Kendall, Max Dumbauld, Emiliano Hernandez, Wyatt Davis, Camren Cavalier, and Luke’s cousin Blake Flowers. Blake’s dad was a high school quarterback in Canadian in the early 90s. Blake now lives in Seminole, Texas, but returned to Canadian to contribute to the camp. Helping others seems to be hardwired into the genetic codes of the Flowers and Cavalier families.
Wyatt Davis: “I came from another town a couple years ago. It was different there. There were various groups of people who’d hang out together. Here in Canadian, we all hang out with each other. We get along. No one is left out. Clay Kendall was the first guy to introduce himself to me when we moved here in 8th grade. Right then, two or three other guys immediately started talking to me. From that point on, I was in the mix and started becoming best friends with all the guys. I’d never moved before. I was pretty worried. But from the moment I got out of the car, they made me feel at home.”
At home.
Feeling at home from the moment he got out of the car. Wyatt’s experience. My experience.
It would have been a phenomenal experience for these kids to be guided directly by Koetting and Cavalier. Still, one could argue that this group of leaders is more appropriate—more effective, more relatable. The little campers were learning from the boys they’d seen performing on football fields during the past few years.
“Now, they are here to teach us?”
Dreamers led by their heroes—what better way to ensure a captive audience, locked in on every word?
Camp leader Max Dumbauld recalled, “It’s a great opportunity for the younger generation of kids and upcoming Wildcats to not only have fun and compete but also like learn more about the way we do things, the things Coach Cav has taught us and hopefully show them a little bit of what it’s like to play Canadian Wildcat football. It’s been a blast.”
Max had grown up in the environment where the pre-K through fifth graders were assigned a “Wildcat Buddy” – a football player he’d share time with, get to know, play on the playground, exchange high-fives with while arriving at the elementary school on Friday mornings. Now, he was one of the football players wearing the jersey. Now, he was giving back on that field. The same can be said for the rest of the camp leaders.
Blake Flowers, Clay Kendall, Braiden Galla (Thursday's Guest Speaker), Max Dumbauld, Emiliano Hernandez, Wyatt Davis, Camren Cavalier, Luke Flowers. Blake Flowers is Luke's cousin.
While the Wildcats athletes managed the daily camp experiences, Luke’s mom, Mandy, helped with the business and logistical side of making this happen. If a Minnesotan asked me what the town of Canadian is like, I’d suggest a quick review of the camp sponsors. The list provides considerable insight into the local economy. These 10 businesses offer financial contributions towards the costs of refreshments and t-shirts and, most importantly, provide scholarships to offset participation fees, ensuring that no family is left behind.
Neumeier Drilling Fluids, Benchmark Energy, Black Gold Pump & Supply Inc, Maverick Natural Resources, Superior Livestock-Brady Waite, Cox Insurance, The Gettin’ Place (Furniture), Habit Financial/Raymond James, Happy State Bank, and PressPass Sports.
Michelle Thompson’s words strongly resonate: “It doesn’t matter what I come knocking for— it doesn’t matter if the largest business in town or the smallest—anything I come asking for they have yet to say I’m sorry, we can’t help.”
The local economy is primarily fueled by the panhandle’s natural resources. But these folks know that the most important natural resources are those running around this morning on Koetting Field.
The camp leaders understand that while the little campers are blessed with endless energy, they must periodically sit still to recharge and refuel. Snacks and drinks are supplied while the campers absorb the knowledge of other local leaders. The lineup of guest speakers consisted of coaches and recent graduates of Canadian High School.
June 3 Bo Albin
- Being a good teammate
- Importance of having a good work ethic
June 4 – Sawyer Cook – Four-time state champion
- Practice how you play
- You don’t have to be a team captain to be a leader
- Love your teammates, respect and listen to your coaches and parents
- Always have fun while you’re playing
- Respect your opponent – don’t talk trash
June 5: Kale Steed and Joe Garcia—founders of PressPass Sports.
- Shared thoughts of how special it is to live in Canadian
- The boys had plenty of questions for them about covering sporting events for their popular website
June 6: Braiden Galla
- “The Wildcat Way”
June 7: Andy Cavalier on Friday.
- Shared thoughts on some of the most essential ingredients to becoming a Wildcat: Attitude, Gratitude, and Effort
- Wildcat ancestors – one day, they’ll be the athletes that the youngest kids in Canadian will look up to.
- Shared his excitement about the possibility of being their coach
I was blessed to observe Braiden Galla’s speech—perhaps the keynote speech of the week—all about “The Wildcat Way.”
It must be important if something other than your driver’s license resides in your wallet for a decade. Braiden Galla, a 2015 graduate of Canadian High School, has one such possession. Galla was a member of state championship-winning teams in both football and basketball while attending CHS. He graduated, left town, went to college, started a teaching career, then eagerly returned to Canadian to try to make a difference in his hometown, where he’s a Special Education teacher and coaches football, girls basketball, and girls track.
Even before the first moving boxes arrived for Braiden’s return to Canadian, he had something packed away. During his senior year, Coach Koetting gave Braiden and the other Wildcats football players a laminated, business card-sized keepsake. It’s title?
“THE WILDCAT WAY”
At the bottom of the card: “MAKE IT HAPPEN – 2014”
Ten years ago, Coach Koetting discussed “The Wildcat Way.” A decade later, Galla and the camp leaders are preserving the tradition. Hand-me-downs. Nurturing a culture proven to work. Keeping it alive.
Five line items follow on the card. Galla spoke to the kids about each::
Wildcats are UNSELFISH
Wildcats have CLASS
Wildcats are DEPENDABLE
Wildcats act RIGHT
Wildcats WORK HARDER THAN ANY TEAM IN TEXAS
When Luke Flowers asked Galla to offer his thoughts to the campers, Braiden didn’t have to do much research. Just pull that card from his wallet, then tell a story of principles that have stayed with him since he last performed at Wildcat Stadium. Galla’s teaching skills were masterfully applied throughout his engaging, informative, thought-provoking presentation.
During his presentation, I had one of those “head-snapping, did he really just say that?” moments. Galla talked to the kids about “acting right.” He condemned bullying and challenged everyone to be the opposite: an “encourager.”
Encourager. There’s that word again.
Miles Parker Henderson—the ultimate encourager. One of his lasting personality traits is being shared with a group of kids sitting 50 steps away from Miles P. Henderson Field House.
Sometimes, “too good to be true” comes true. That message to this audience in this setting—a seed planted in the minds of those campers.
I looked around.
Miles is still here. He’s definitely still here.
Luke Flowers graduated from high school last week and leads the camp this week. Where does the wisdom and maturity come from? His life has revolved in the same orbit as Coach Fletcher, Coach Isom, Coach Wall, Coach Koetting, Coach Cavalier, and, of course, his grandpa—Coach Flowers, his dad—Coach Flowers, his uncle—Coach Flowers.
There was a word in 6th grade Science or Chemistry class to describe the process. Not photosynthesis. Not kinetic. Condensation? Come on. I think it begins with an “O.” Oxygen? No. Proton? Um, that has two O’s but doesn’t start with an O.
I’ve got it: Osmosis. That’s it. Osmosis— “a gradual, often unconscious process of assimilation or absorption. “
Gosh, all Luke had to do was exist. Be present. Listen. Absorb. Same for Emiliano, Max, Blake, Clay, Wyatt, and Camren.
To be fair, the presence of those football players on that field and spending time with those young kids can’t be written off so quickly. Good parenting, coaching, and learning experiences leading to honorable values and balanced judgment were undoubtedly factors.
Proximity to positivity is a blessing. When you live on 3rd Avenue, you’ll unlikely cross paths with someone living on 147th Avenue NW. In towns like Canadian—with a population of 2,649, life is more intimate—people know and care about you better. Relationships gain better traction.
Case in point:
After camp concluded for the day, I was invited to have lunch with the Flowers family at a local restaurant called “The Bucket.” The Bucket was overflowing—people lined up outside the door. A classic small-town experience was about to happen. As Luke Flowers arrived, Rosemary and Coach Koetting were preparing to leave.
A legendary leader crossing paths with an emerging leader.
The Koettings offered their gracious greetings. Luke, Mandy, and Blake Flowers reciprocated. The prevalent “yes sir, yes ma’am” culture of respect was exercised yet again. One mirrors the other—time after time.
I’ve heard “yes, sir” so often during my conversations in Canadian, I’ve foolishly started to think I’m worthy of such respect. I typed the previous sentence as a joke. I re-read the sentence and thought, “Wait, that’s no joke—there’s some truth to it.” Respect of this sort seems infectious. It’s healthy. With each offering of “yes sir” and “thank you, sir,” one endorphin cartwheels around in my brain. That endorphin was sitting around, doing nothing, then snapped into action when called upon. “Yes, sir,” activating one, “thank you, sir,” activating another.
You can’t help but feel better.
Spend an hour on social media. Then, an hour imagining life in this environment.
Count how many endorphins die, then how many fly.
Luke shared with me that before year one of the camp, he worried if any local parents would register their kids to participate. He was, after all, only a junior in high school. Thirty kids participated in June of 2022. After the camp, people talked. Rumors circulated. Word travels as fast and far as the wind down here.
Rumors are sometimes good.
In year two, more than 70 kids participated, including kids from other panhandle towns. Texas panhandle parents seem to understand that osmosis thing. They want their kids to absorb the goodness of the camp.
That osmosis thing. It’s pervasive down here. You become it—whatever it is that surrounds you.
You.
Become.
It.
In response to a Facebook comment I made on the “Way of the Wildcats” Facebook page, Luke Flowers perfectly captured the essence of the camp:
“Thank you so much for your time, your kind words, and for seeing what I see in our town — something special, worth investing in. Canadian has been an amazing place for me to grow up, and I want other kids to feel the same way I do.”
It may not get better than that.
But it does get better. While writing this section, I executed a few internet searches and was reminded of the words “humble” and “humility.”
I found a story in “The Canadian Record”—their local newspaper. Luke Flowers was the recipient of the 2024 “Liske Cup.” The Flowers family didn’t tell me about this. If I had a son and he won this award, I’d be telling everyone.
An excerpt from the story is below:
“The Liske Cup winner is selected by a committee of high school teachers and administrators. The criteria for the award are scholarship, leadership, citizenship, attitude, and sportsmanship. Participation in school activities and academic achievement is very important in selecting the winner.
“The 94th winner of the Liske Cup has exhibited all these qualities in abundance,” Dr. Pulliam said. “Today’s winner is talented, involved, and has achieved extracurricular success at the district, region, and state levels.”
“Luke Flowers participated in, with success, four different sports while at CHS. He exhibited leadership and service in clubs and organizations such Spanish Club, Spirit Club, NHS, Student Council, and was a class officer. He attended Boys State, was in theatre, and earned his FAA drone pilot certification.”
“Luke has been active in his church youth group and has served 130 hours of community service at Mesa View, Meals on Wheels, the CCC, reading at the public library, working with the fire relief clean up, and fundraising for families in need.”
“This student is hard-working, intelligent, and kind—all ingredients of success,” Dr. Pulliam concluded.
What the? Wow. During my high school career, I mowed the neighbor’s lawn once. But only after he offered me $20.00. But Luke’s resume makes sense. Osmosis. He’s a product of this environment.
Luke became it. Luke became Canadian.
Without that funny north-of-the-border accent.
Those wildcat paw prints on the blacktop serve as a metaphor for this camp—older kids leading younger kids down a path—helping them find their way through the good life in Canadian. Add a bit about football to the curriculum.
Done.
This wasn’t a profit-driven camp. This was a hand-me-down, lift-them-up camp. A small town doing it right kind of camp. Max, Emiliano, Clay, Blake, Cam, and Wyatt support Luke while handing off the life lessons once handed down to them.
Day 4 of the camp was coming to a close. Everyone gathered near midfield. Luke offered his closing thoughts then asked who would like to offer the daily prayer. “Ok,” I thought. A prayer. One prayer. Here it comes.
The prayer was delivered by a boy who didn’t appear to be the oldest or youngest, not the biggest or smallest. Just a boy as eager for this moment as any other on this memorable day. He bowed his head, clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, then began. He expressed his appreciation for the camp leaders and his ability to participate.
He paused.
I noticed him squinting his eyes as he worked to retrieve the right words—all the best words—the inspirational words for expressing his feelings. He found them. He prayed for the safety of the camp leaders and all the kids here this morning. He prayed for the protection of everyone’s parents and families.
He continued.
I missed the rest. Distracted. I had to step away to wipe the sweat dripping down my cheeks.
It had to be sweat.
Right?
He was done, but they weren’t. Prayers continued. One boy, then another, stepped forward to offer their words of faith, appreciation, and inspiration. They delivered with poise and conviction. I was later informed that the competition to get to the front of the prayer line was as fierce as getting in line to catch a pass from Cam Cavalier.
My observations provided no reason to dispute this.
Next week, the parents of kids who participated in this camp will receive a postcard in the mail. It will be a handwritten message of appreciation. The notes are not written by Luke Flowers. One of the final things these kids will do before camp concludes on Friday will be to find a spot in the shade and then write a note to Mom and Dad. Something like:
“Thank you, mom. Thank you, dad. I loved being with the Wildcats. Can we go to the Dairy Queen?”
“Love, Tommy”
Mandy Flowers provides the postcards, pencils, and stamps. More than 70 little Texans provide their feelings.
And with that, it was over. My privilege of observing the Way of the Wildcats camp left an impression:
Relentless goodness. Relentless happiness. Canadian being Canadian.
As I drove away, I realized that the camp leaders never dispelled my suspicion that gigantic wildcats were roaming around town. I rolled up my windows, locked the doors, then pointed the car towards Colorado—a better person departing than the one who arrived the day before—a better person than the one who first stepped inside Canadian Elementary on October 25, 2023.
But I checked that rearview mirror again for those feral wildcats.
Just in case.
Chapter 50: Named and Unnamed
While writing stories for the Dallas Morning News about high school football games, I was acutely aware of the significance of including the names of the athletes I watched. They’ll scrapbook those stories. Fifty years from now, long after I’m gone, they’ll show those clips to their grandchildren and tell stories of their childhood, surely fabricating their exploits far beyond my typed words. Those grandchildren will never know who wrote that sentence. I’ll never see the life they’ll go on to live. That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is those kids will know grandpa or grandma were once young too–and they did something fun and good.
Then, the flip side—preventing an athlete’s name from appearing on the newspaper’s front page, as the nightly news’s opening story, or the viral social media post. Those situations where the influence of a coach, good-hearted welcoming teammates, teachers, and community leaders positively influence those kids whose daily decisions teeter on the edge of trouble. I didn’t tell those stories because, in a sense, they never happened. The student-athlete didn’t make the decision leading to trouble. Their coaches saved them.
Even here, I didn’t tell every story. Tragic stories. Stories of valor. Like the story about the star running back on the football team whose off-field actions outweigh his significant on-field accomplishments. That young man whose father believes his immersion in a FAMILY environment from Pony League football through his senior year helped mold him into the person he’s become. Stories of his touchdowns have been written. Online pictures prove he helped move those couches. Then there’s the untold stuff. Like when he demonstrated an uncommon awareness that when a mom is suffering from the ravages of cancer and her body is rejecting those medications intended to provide comfort, to give that mom another month, week, or just one more day with her husband and her kids, that the right thing for him to do is to help that mom—to comfort her during the most uncomfortable of moments.
Few things can be more noble.
But this is even more noble when you learn it wasn’t his mom. It was his girlfriend’s mom. There were times when he shielded family members from seeing her suffer. I omitted the name of that running back as an example of those good people we never hear about.
Those kids at those games on Fridays aren’t just athletes, cheerleaders, team managers, or band members. Each of them is a story. The same applies to everyone in attendance. Everyone has, or is, a story worth sharing.
There are 14,822 cities in the United States with populations under 5,000. I wrote about a few good things happening in TWO of them. Even there, the scope of this story was limited to a connection with the football teams in each town. Then, there are 4,680 cities with a population greater than 5,000. Imagine all the good happening in those towns and cities we never hear about. I focused predominantly on the reach of two high school football teams. This story of good people would never end if I expanded the reach to the other sports teams, the business communities, first responders, law enforcement, and hospitals.
One more thing. I changed my mind.
His name is Zack Libal.
Chapter 51: One More Call
JANUARY 5, 2025
I was done. Ready to publish this thing. Just to be sure, I reviewed my pile of notes from the past year. I was zipping through the checklist to ensure I’ve attempted to talk to everyone I was referred to.
Check.
Check.
Check.
Check.
Check, check, check, check.
More than 100 checkmarks. Then, crap. There was a name whose phone number I never dialed. Heck, I didn’t even have his number. He’s not even from Two Harbors or Canadian. Forget it. I’m done. Who would even know I didn’t call? Only one person would know. That person was Tom Nelson.
I remember a journalist emphasizing the importance of making the next call. Keep digging. Report, report, report. Then those friends and family telling me to take as long as I need. Don’t rush it. Get the entire story. It will be ready when it’s ready.
I made that final phone call.
Fifty-two minutes later, I was drained. I’d heard about aspirations, opportunities, life, death, ups and downs, friendships, compassion, love, and families.
I’d just met Justin Voss, the Head Coach of the North Branch Vikings high school football team. North Branch is a town of 12,000 residents, 136 miles south of Two Harbors.
Several hours later, I’d learn that the timing of this conversation—the story’s final interview, was yet another unexplainable moment of fate. The stuff where they say, “You can’t make this up.”
The North Branch Vikings lost their season opener. Following the game, Voss shared his thoughts, then stepped away to give one of the captains the last words. Nolen Volner pulled the team together for a quick message. They’d lost. They were down. It was time to move forward—look ahead to next week, time to set the tone for the rest of the year. Nolen did what captains do.
“Alright, boys, bring it in. Hey, let this burn, man, let this burn. If we want to be champions, we’ve gotta come back from this even harder? Alright?
Volner then called for the traditional “breakdown.” All hands in.”Vikings on three.””1-2…”
Before saying “three,” something registered in Volner’s mind. He tried to stop everyone. Some teammates had already shouted, “3!” A few more got as far as “Vikings!”
Nolen wanted a do-over.
“Hold on, hold on. Family on three. 1-2-3…”
“FAMILY!”
I finished watching a year-end video of a football team from a small but growing town in central Minnesota. This was one of those year-end football videos prevalent in these modern times. An ancestor to those videos Steve Sabol created for NFL Films. The production value of the video produced by Jake Fenton Productions was high. Great soundtrack and audio quality. The latter allowed me to notice that every other sentence was spiked with these two words:
“Football Family”
Hmmm. I wonder where that came from?
During his sophomore year of attending college at the University of Minnesota—Duluth, Justin Voss was planning ahead. He knew he wanted to coach football. But he’s three hours from home and doesn’t know anyone. Justin had zero experience. Still, he had all he needed—a dream, motivation, courage, and a keyboard. He just wanted an opportunity.
Justin Voss emailed numerous coaches, none of whom had ever heard of him.
The first coach to respond was Tom Nelson in Two Harbors.
The only coach to respond was Tom Nelson in Two Harbors.
Sometimes, as I’ve learned, one response from an email is all it takes.
Nelson and Voss met at the Miller Hill Mall in Duluth. Justin was invited to join the staff. He’d start as the Head Coach…of the Pony League team. Eleven and 12-year-olds. First football helmets, shoulder pads, and football jerseys. Their first steps towards becoming a Viking, or heaven forbid, a Packer. Ground floor stuff. Not much prestige. But a place where infinite impact is possible. Little kids, excited and scared. Justin Voss—you are their leader. Good luck, Justin! Oops, it’s now “Good luck, Coach Voss.”
How did the rookie coach do?
Spencer Ross, the son of Athletic Director Scott Ross and Agate Cheer coach Melanie Ross, turned the clock back a dozen years: “Having Coach Voss as a Pony League coach sparked my interest in football. As a kid, I didn’t take much interest in the sport. I enjoyed the atmosphere and being around my friends, but didn’t care much about football. I asked my dad if I could quit a few times (obviously, not an option). Coach Voss’s energy definitely helped shape my love for the game, which eventually gave me some of the best memories of my life.”
Justin arrived just in time for Spencer. Almost 4,000 high school varsity rushing yards and more than 50 touchdowns later, Spencer Ross graduated from THHS as one of the most highly honored football players to ever play next to Lake Superior.
Voss moved step-by-step up the ladder of the Agates coaching tree during his next three years in Two Harbors, then eventually became the head coach in North Branch, where during his first seven years, they’d win 48 games, three District championships, and earn two State Tournament appearances.
“Early on, Tom Nelson took me on a tour of Two Harbors. We eventually went up to the football stadium. Some kids were throwing the ball around, and they just gravitated towards him. Their respect for him was evident. They’d hug him, and you could see they mutually cared for each other. I’ve been on sports teams, so I know what this is typically like. I’ve had coaches who I care about, and they care about me, but this just had a different feeling.
That was the day Tom told me about the FAMILY concept.”
I interrupted Voss to share some perspective.
“Justin, I wrote elsewhere in this story that I doubted this was real when I first heard about the “FAMILY” concept. Just like other teams who boast with things like ‘One Team, One Dream, The Time is Now, Leave No Doubt, and Our Time, Our Team. I’ve seen too much of this virtue signaling. I wasn’t convinced there was any substance to what Nelson was doing in my hometown.”
Justin responded: “Exactly! You go to coaching clinics and hear slogans, and you wonder if this is just an expression without meaning. With Tom, oh my gosh, there is meaning.”
Then Voss did it himself.
“At North Branch, I tried to instill something similar. The first year, I tried “The Viking Creed,” the next year, it was “The Viking Way.” Neither got any traction.
I spent a lot of time on the phone that summer with Tom Nelson. We tried “FAMILY” in year three, and it’s stuck ever since. During my years with him in Two Harbors, I could be myself. I wasn’t going to be judged or criticized. I could just be who I am. He has that way of accepting a person for who they are. I thought, if I move forward with Nelson’s FAMILY concept, I’ll have to show those kids I’m all in. I’ll have to be vulnerable with them, just like Tom is up there. I’m going to have to show everyone what family means. After our first practice that year, I brought everyone together and told them, ‘I care about you and love you.’
It’s hard to say that word. It can make people uncomfortable. But I meant it. It felt so good to break through that bit of vulnerability. I said my true feelings in front of our guys, and, gosh, that is so powerful. I think it’s important for people to hear that word. Now, I say it all the time.
Those kids need to see that you’re human and to be able to own up to your mistakes and apologize. Kids need to know you’re walking with them, not pulling them. I saw Tom do all those things. I saw how important those handshakes, hugs, and words can be.
What an extraordinary thing when you can be completely vulnerable with someone. We lost a section final, and I cried with Tom. I’m a 36-year-old man. There’s that stigma of being a tough football coach, though that’s not my personality. I was on the phone with him. I cried and tried to talk. He just listened. He has such compassion. You can just be who you really are around him.
That was important because when I was on his coaching staff, I was trying to find out for myself. Who am I? What’s my true personality? I found those answers up there. He’s a goofy guy, too, so I could be that way, too. That’s who I am. Those four years were transformational for me.
He’s a humble person. Our teams have had some success down here. We went to state two years in a row. We were talking, and I just told him, ‘I want to thank you because we would not have had the success we’ve had in North Branch, and I wouldn’t be the coach I am without spending that time with you, learning from you, and seeing what an impact a coach can have on a person’s life beyond football.
And here we are today. We’re nowhere near what Tom has established in Two Harbors. It takes time. But we’re trying.”
Based on pictures I’ve seen, Voss seems to have FAMILY embroidered on every piece of apparel he owns.
It felt like Justin had waited years to be able to tell these stories. But I know for a fact he’s told them before. He’s just that enthusiastic about talking about all this. He kept going.
“I gotta’ tell you about one thing. I think it was in my second year up there. Tom told us about a family evicted from their home and needed to get out immediately. Like really quick. This was at 9:00 pm. We went up there—some football players and coaches, no questions asked. They didn’t have time to properly pack everything, so we helped gather everything together, pack it, or just load it onto the truck.
What a tough thing it must have been for a family to ask for help in that situation. They were in a tough spot, getting forced out of where they lived. Meanwhile, Tom tried to make this as easy as possible for them. He was so compassionate and reassuring. He said something like, ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. We’re going to help you out. We’re all part of this community. We’re gonna get this done for you. It will be OK.’
That family was so appreciative and so thankful.
It all comes back to that word, family. When you say it so often, it better have some meaning. He backs it up every time. It’s one thing to help those families, but he’s also teaching those kids that If you want a strong community, you have to give back—and they do it. He’s impacting lives beyond the football field. I’m guessing they have a lot of people who might have no relation to any of the players but go to games just because of that connection between that team and the community.”
Voss paused for a moment to decide which story to tell me next.
While he was doing that, I started connecting some dots. When Tom Nelson was four years old, his family lived in a place known as Isabella, Minnesota, with a population of 154, give or take a few. You don’t know where that is? Access Google Maps. Search for “Nowhere.” Smack-dab in the middle of that, you’ll find Isabella.
The Nelsons—mom, dad, and five kids, had planned a trip for the final week in March of 1975. When you’re four years old and travel to another state, it’s a big adventure–as consequential as Neil Armstrong flying to the moon. Days before their departure, a blizzard slammed the north shore of Lake Superior. Weather.gov describes it like this.
“A foot of snow and winds unofficially recorded in excess of 100 mph paralyzed the city of Duluth. Waves up to 20 feet pounded the Lake Superior shore, flooding basements and blowing out store windows. Waves and ice buckled metal and glass safety wall at a lakefront motel, forcing the evacuation of 10 rooms as knee-deep water flooded into hallways. Waves destroyed a 40-foot wall in Two Harbors, flooding municipal water pumping stations. Large chunks of beach along Lake Superior’s shore were washed away. Property damage reached up to $5 million.”
The Nelsons wouldn’t let a little blizzard prevent them from driving 150 miles south to temperate Webster, Wisconsin. There, they’d find jelly beans, pastel-colored eggs, marshmallow bunnies, and—most notably, grandma and grandpa.
Kids don’t forget stuff like that.
It was time to say goodbye then drive northward, to look out the window while crossing the “high bridge” above Saint Louis Bay, crossing the state line back into Minnesota, before turning the car onto Highway 61, then the long but scenic drive along the north shore of Lake Superior. The kids talked about building snowmen and snow forts back in Isabella. When they returned home, much of the snow was already gone. Melted. Melted not by the warmth of spring weather. It wasn’t time for that yet. That snow was melted by the heat of the fire which had burned their house to the ground.
Their home was gone. They’d lost everything.
Tom remembers picking through the rubble, trying to find anything that survived, those things he could take to whatever and wherever was next.
Kids can’t possibly forget stuff like that.
The proud Nelson family desperately needed help. Their five children would be dispersed among nearby families with extra beds, blankets, cereal, and soup bowls to provide comfort. Months would pass before the family would be reunited under the same roof.
Voss’s description of Nelson’s empathy and compassion with that evicted family finally lit 30-watt light bulb powering my brain. There are times in life when you’ve had to live it to know it. Nelson did, and Nelson does. He knows that feeling of desperation, of having to pick up the broken pieces of a life, then go start something new. He also remembers the kindness of friends and neighbors who didn’t have to help them but took extraordinary measures to do just that.
Young kids who grow to become football coaches don’t forget about stuff like that.
It’s no coincidence that a football team knocked on the door of that desperate family, ready to help them pick up and pack up the pieces of their life. No questions asked. No judgements made. Just there to help. It’s the neighborly thing to do. Compassion based on a shared experience.
The pieces of the Nelson puzzle now fit together.
Perfectly.
Justin Voss then recaptured my attention.
“Let me tell you one more story. We’d moved down to North Branch, and I was an assistant coach.”
Justin had been talking a mile a minute up until now. He paused, then cleared his throat.
“Our first child, Lincoln, passed away at birth. We knew it would happen—the doctors warned us in advance. That was just so very hard for us. Of course, I talked to Tom a few times during that process. This was at the end of July. Then, a month later, my niece was killed. The car she was riding in was hit by a semi. So we just had this extreme heartache in our family.”
I’d been gone from Two Harbors for four or five years, so I didn’t know many current players or their families. That didn’t matter to Tom. He was already planning to honor Lincoln at a forthcoming game.
As a result of the accident, my cousin and her husband were still in the hospital in Iowa, and we needed to be with them. So, we couldn’t be at the game in Two Harbors, but they moved forward with the event anyway. He didn’t have to do that. He’d already expressed his condolences to us. He could have just talked to his players then left it at that. But he went a step further, made it a community thing to help someone who was once part of Two Harbors football.
Talk about heartwarming—this is a community that doesn’t even know me anymore, but they passed the bucket around and raised hundreds of dollars, which we donated to the “Lay Me Down To Sleep” organization to support other families who endure losing a child like this.
“Before the game, each football player wrote Lincoln’s initials on white athletic tape, then wrapped that tape around their wrists. Lincoln–our son Lincoln–was with them that night on that field in Two Harbors.
The man cares about people.”
Justin had one more story to tell. During one of their earliest conversations—if not the first conversation, Nelson told Voss he could temporarily stay with his family while he got settled. That was a bit puzzling to me until I connected those dots back to Isabella.
“I never moved in with them, but I often stayed up there. After games on Friday night in Two Harbors, or if our bus returned late from a road game, I’d stay overnight with them instead of driving back to Duluth. I’d wake up on Saturday, and their five kids always want to play. It was so much fun. In a way, I was still a kid too. I was still growing up. His kids are teenagers now. It won’t be long before Tom and Angie are empty-nesters.
Last summer, Erin and I took our six-year-old daughter and three-year-old son up there and spent several days with the Nelson family at the lake. I used to play with his kids. Now, his kids were playing with mine.
We sat back and watched. Full-circle stuff right there in front of us.”
I mistakenly thought I had all the puzzle pieces but Voss had a few stashed in his pocket. They’re together now. All in the right place. No loose ends. It’s nice to look at a puzzle after it all comes together. This puzzle was initially a challenge to assemble. Now that it’s done, I’ve caught myself repeatedly out the window at Starbucks, taking a deep breath while thinking, “I get it now. I finally understand.”
Then something happens when a new piece of the puzzle is thrown on the table. You realize this story isn’t over. It keeps changing. More pieces, more chapters.
I spent 52 minutes on the phone that day with Justin. A few text messages followed:
12:42 pm
“Thanks Justin. Nice visiting with you. Stay tuned.”
1:33 pm
“Yes, great chatting with you! Thanks for taking the time! Excited to read the article.”
2:13 pm
“I just watched most of that movie. Great job by Jake Fenton to put that together. Nice job of leading your team…but you really need to come out of your shell! 😊 😊 😊”
2:43 pm (Justin)
“I know—I was a little camera shy! 🙂
“This is incredible timing—I got a call from the Minnesota Football Coaches Association (MFCA) about an hour ago and Tom Nelson is this years “Jerry Kill Power of Influence Award” winner! I nominated him 12 years ago and he was picked this year—such a great honor for Tom, and well deserving!
Just wanted to share!”
3:18 pm (Me)
“Wow. Wow. Wow. I’m going to send you something.”
3:21 pm
(I attached a link to the story from 2021 announcing that Andy Cavalier was awarded the “Coaching Beyond the Game Award” in Texas). I added the following:
“One of the amazing things about Cavalier’s award is that he wasn’t even a head coach of football when he received this award. But his reputation is off the charts. The funny thing is that I hadn’t even heard of him before sending an email to him about the story and asking if I could come down to his town.”
3:44 pm (Justin)
“Now that is incredible! This story was meant to be!”
From the MFCA website:
“The award honors a deserving high school football head coach for his effect on his players, school and community. The selected coach embodies the life-changing qualities of respect and inspiration, and has caused student-athletes and others to want to emulate their honesty, patience and modesty. Their positive influence is reflected in their community service, their mentoring and role modeling, and finally, measured by the lives he has touched and changed.”
“Coach Nelson will receive this award at the annual MFCA banquet on March 29.”
Justin Voss sent an email to numerous coaches in Minnesota. One responded. That person changed his life.
On Thursday, June 6, 2024, I was in Canadian to attend the “Way of the Wildcats” camp. I’d cross paths again that day with Andy Cavalier. I’d meet his mom, Kathy. I’d meet Luke, Mandy, and Kevin Flowers. And the camp leaders, Wyatt, Max, Blake, Emiliano, and Clay. And Braiden Galla. When I entered a local restaurant for lunch, I’d once again see Chris and Rosemary Koetting.
But while I was still snoring, hours before eating my Fruit Loops, Coach Cav was a mile away, standing beside Miles P. Henderson Field House, recording the following message to be shared on social media:
“Good morning, T-G-I-T, Thank God It’s Today.
Right?
We’ve been given this day to do with it as we choose. Make the most of it. And make no bones about it, guys—it’s not just coincidence—the people that your life has intersected with are there for a reason. For you to get better and for you to help them get better. For us to have a positive impact on each other. So let’s go about doing it today.
“Take the opportunity to look for opportunities. Keep your head on the swivel and recognize the opportunities when they show up. Then act on the opportunities to make somebody’s day today. You can do it. It doesn’t take a lot. Look for them and act on them.”
“Here we go back into “Legacy” by James Kerr, “What the All Blacks Can Teach Us About the Business of Life.”
I’m absolutely loving this. Listen to this part from Bill Walsh. When the environment is dedicated to learning, the score, as Bill Walsh says, takes care of itself. Leaders and teachers—our job is to lead people through uncertainty and confusion and into self knowledge and self possession. The ability to help the people around me self actualize their goals” says Walsh, “underlies the single aspect of my abilities and the label that I value most: teacher.”
“Wooo!”
“A teacher! Sometimes it only takes one encounter, one teacher, to change a life and many lives after that.”
“Yes!”
“Is there a more noble place in our local communities than our teachers and our coaches” I don’t know. There are varying opinions on that, but I do know this—as a teacher and as a coach, we can have the kind of impact on the future of our communities that few get to have. So, let’s make the most of every opportunity we get.”
<then the Coach Cav train whistle>
“Come on, man—let’s go to work!!”
Andy Cavalier: the 2021 recipient of the “Grant Teaff Coaching Beyond the Game Award” in Texas.
Tom Nelson: the 2025 recipient of the “Jerry Kill Power of Influence Award” in Minnesota
What is going on here? What were the chances that I’d cross paths with these two coaches? I’ll need one of those Slide Rule champs in Canadian to calculate the odds.
I typed Cavalier’s words, then reread them:
“The people your life has intersected with are there for a reason.
“Sometimes it only takes one encounter, one teacher, to change a life and many lives after that.”
Then, I think about Justin Voss’s words: “Meant to be.”
Meant to be, meant to be…good grief, could it be that this was meant to be?
View Coach Cavalier's video by clicking on either link below
Photo Credits: Jake Fenton Productions
Chapter 53: Imagine
Was this just a dream?
CANADIAN WILDCATS at TWO HARBORS AGATES
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2026
“This is Joe Buck with Troy Aikman, live from Halsted Field in Two Harbors, Minnesota. Troy, we’ve covered many big events over the years, and you’ve played in the biggest of them all. I think it’s safe for me to speak for both of us. Neither of us has seen anything like we’ve witnessed here tonight.”
“I agree, Joe. We heard about last year’s game at Koetting Field in Canadian but this—actually being here, in this small town, to see these people come together like this is something that struck me like nothing else. I’ve seen a lot of things on football fields. I’ve played on three Super Bowl-winning teams, but the handshake line at the end of this game moved me in a way I’ve rarely experienced. It was not only the players and coaches from each team but also the cheerleaders, team managers, school teachers, medics, referees, photographers, all of the parents from each school, and…
…
excuse me…
and…
“It’s OK Troy… I’m feeling it, too. Are you OK, partner?”
“Yes, I’ll try this again. To see everyone shake hands and give hugs to the members of the Color Guard as they stood beside the flag pole on the east side of the stadium…
… .it’s hard to put into words.”
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, Troy? We all focus on the stars who play on the biggest stages, but this performance was as down-to-earth as it gets. People from two small towns on opposite sides of the country come together and get to know each other, serving as a perfect example that we still have more that unites us than divides us. Strangers becoming friends.”
“You nailed it, Joe. Since arriving here on Wednesday, we’ve heard countless stories of kindness from the town’s students and citizens. We’ve also heard from the people who’ve been on the receiving end of their goodwill. There are so many good stories out there. We just need to shine the lights on them. It’s all about people doing the right thing. That’s all this is. This feels extraordinary. Wouldn’t this nation be a better place if this felt ordinary?”
“Troy, I think we both need a moment. Let’s send it down to Holly Rowe. She’s in the north end zone with some cheerleaders and their followers.”
“Thank you guys. I couldn’t agree more. I had the Cheer captains from each team with me a moment ago, but they were surrounded by some of the littles who’d been practicing the routine they were just taught. The kids wanted to show the cheerleaders their progress. Yes, those cheer captains just stood me up. They gave up their chance to be on national television to be with those kids. I’m not sure how many people would do that. Let’s turn the camera in their direction…”
…
…
“There you have it, guys. The kids are so proud of themselves. The Cheer Team members— I’m just overwhelmed–the looks on all their faces. I remember feeling that way when I was their age. Not a care in the world. Pure happiness for them—and, now—tonight, for me too. No matter what questions I might have asked them, their answers couldn’t have topped what we saw of their interactions with those kids.”
“Back up to you, Joe.”
“Thanks, Sally. None of us could have said it better. We are getting word that every boy from each team played in the game tonight. We also see evidence that they’ve been watching NFL games as they are on the field, trading jerseys with each other. Normally, we’d see Athletic Directors from both teams cringe at the thought of replacing those jerseys, but a few businesses pooled their resources to pay for the jerseys for this one-time event.”
“Joe, I’m watching a couple of the young boys wearing their “Agates Football Family” hoodies but posing for pictures while holding Wildcats helmets—and, by the way, both teams have great helmets. I’m seeing kids getting autographs from the players and cheerleaders.”
“Troy, we see band members down on the field showing their instruments to some of the local kids. To the chagrin of their parents, it looks like a couple of those kids want to be future drummers.”
“Troy, how about that halftime show with the two high school bands each standing on their 45-yard line, facing each other. One band played a few bars, then paused. Then, the other band echoed right back. Instead of dueling pianos, it was dueling high school bands. Then they came together, side-by-side, for the last couple of songs. I typically want the halftime to end so we can see more football. This was an exception. That was just too much fun to watch, and when it was over, it was obvious the band members had as much fun playing as we had watching and listening.”
“I agree, Joe, but I also wanted halftime to continue so we’d have more time to eat the nachos, walleye strips, and pasties they delivered to us in the press box. Did you try the smoked lake trout? It was all fantastic! “
“Troy, as we watch the kids playing pickup games on the field—even inviting the referees to play along with them, I’m thinking that before you became “the” Troy Aikman, you were one of those boys on the field.”
“Yes, Joe, I was and if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave you here and go down to the field and throw the ball around with some of those kids.”
“Of course, Troy, go have fun. On behalf of our broadcast team, I thank everyone who made this night possible. These Friday night lights will remain lit until the early hours of Saturday morning here on the shore of Lake Superior. With that, I’ll turn it over to Scott Van Pelt to close this out.”
“Thanks, Joe. The first word that comes to mind for me tonight is “special.” That word can be overused. But the word “special” was uniquely created for nights like tonight. Some will say, “it’s just a game.” Try telling that to the folks down at the Mesa View Senior Living community in Canadian who, as we can see them waving to everyone via the split-screen, are staying up a bit later than usual tonight to see how, in a community sense—a small town family sense, to see how their kids are doing. From small towns like this to inner city schools in our biggest cities, high school football and other sports define who we once were and who we are today. Events like tonight show us who we all can become.”
“The Miracle Minute between the first and second quarters symbolized the best of us. While at a football game, these folks raised money for one family facing challenges in north Texas and another in northern Minnesota. Neither family lives in Canadian nor Two Harbors. On this big night for these two schools, they were thinking of families beyond their own. Building bridges from one town to the next.”
“This entire event has been a bit of a miracle. It took a lot to make this happen. These schools had to adjust their schedules. State and local school administrators had to set aside their red tape to bless this event. Donations poured in to defray travel costs. The best news is that we are hearing of other schools nationwide partnering in the same way. We know of a team in Colorado traveling to Idaho next weekend for their version of this event. Another high school from Ohio traveling to Florida. Then, a border battle between teams from Oregon and Washington. We heard of two lacrosse teams in Maryland—long-time rivals whose communities have different demographic compositions who, on consecutive Saturdays, traveled to each other’s town to help with community cleanup projects–all to promote kindness and social connectivity between communities. To prove we have more in common with each other than we might think, to knock down stereotypes, to understand each other better, to reinforce the truth that those folks in that other town down the road are good people too.”
“Two teams came together tonight. One from a state known for oil. The other known for water. Could they defy the laws of physics—mix—and make this work? The answer was a resounding yes. In a sense, we saw stars align tonight—the Lone Star and North Star. The real stars are the folks who inspired this story, then those in Minnesota and Texas who made this happen.”
“We’ve seen what can happen when we drop our guard and tap into the best of ourselves: to just be kind, compassionate, and respectful and celebrate our time together. Sure, it’s nice to win. Tonight was no different—and tonight, there was a clear winner.”
“It might sound corny, but tonight’s winner is America.”
“Both teams, both towns, everyone who was able to attend or watch—that’s who won. There were no losers here tonight. We’re all better for experiencing this. These two towns randomly found each other. This should inspire other schools to break down barriers, open lines of communication, support each other, and change the commonly held narratives.
“Thanks for joining us tonight. Take care of each other.”
Some dreams come true. Why not that one?
Chapter 54: One Door Closes
On October 26, 2023, I received the news that my career was over. It was one of the most challenging days of my life. The next day—my first day in Canadian, was one of the best days of my life. That’s not a sentimental reflection of my past. I knew it that day.
I’d heard about that “when one door closes, another one opens” stuff my entire life. It seemed corny. Now, every single darn day, I’m knee-deep in that cornfield, shucking away every tear I fail to suppress. But now, these are mostly happy tears. The type that readily flow when I witness kindness. I wasn’t always like this. I’ve always been more of a button-pushing agitator than a “tears of joy soaking my t-shirt” kind of guy. The dam broke the moment I stepped inside an elementary school in, of all unexpected places, a small, unfamiliar town in the remote Texas panhandle.
I see the final chapters of my life rapidly approaching. I can’t outrun them. I’ve also been spending a lot of time looking over my shoulder, flipping the pages of what I’m leaving behind. Those things that once meant everything, including my identity, are now drifting further away.
I was one thing. Now, trying to become another.
I’ve reached a conclusion. In essence, I’ve seen something. I see it every morning when I look in the mirror at 5:30 or 5:52. It’s not exactly Andy Cavalier early, but it’s earlier than I typically roll out of bed. I also see it when I look at the clock at 8:45 pm, thinking, “I need to go to bed so I can get up early tomorrow to write this story.” Call it the “Cavalier Effect.” I’ve seen–and continue to see something good. Therefore, I need to say something—right? I need to abide by the new rules.
I can finally say it out loud:
“Losing my job was one of the best things to ever happen to me. It was a blessing.”
My financial planner–now rolling on the floor, vehemently disagrees.
Yes, a door closed. But leaving that life allowed me to live this one. It feels like two lives. One, before this story knocked on my door. Fueled by a thousand gallons of coffee, a second life commenced after I started typing the first few of these 95,000 words.
It was never my intention to write a book. How do you even write a book? A short story about concession stand favorites became something more. I just followed the cookie crumbs.
It’s simplistic to acknowledge that people from two small towns inspired me to write a different story than I planned. It’s bigger than that. More depth. I was many months into interviews, writing, and rewriting this story before I even understood my topic. I thought I was writing about football.
The folks in those small towns seemed to know better. Their stories shifted my focus—led me down a different road. It took me a while to understand. I wasn’t writing about football. I wasn’t writing about sports. I was writing about the last thing I was placed on this earth to do:
I was writing about love.
My…first… freaking… love story. Good grief, that was not the plan.
I sit here tonight, laptop in my lap, our dog Bella at my side, “The Boys of Fall” playing on repeat mode on the Bluetooth speaker. How could I have ended up here? This wasn’t my intention. This isn’t my fault. I’m the stooge in this story. The villain is obvious.
I blame the good people of Two Harbors and Canadian.
They shared stories of love for their towns, for each other, and, yes, football’s role in this. This improbable love story is all their fault. But instead of blaming them, I know I need to do the opposite. I need to thank them. This story—and the people I’ve crossed paths with in a very real way became my life raft. Their impact on my life was more significant than they’ll ever know.
Yet, an element of this love story makes me cringe. A central, though mainly behind the scenes, character of this love story is one of my lifelong friends: Two Harbors High School Activities Director, Scott Ross.
I’ve written a love story about Scott Ross. Oh my.
Jim Valvano would be pleased. As he directed, I’m still crying. I’m still thinking. Every day has been a full day. But finally, with the revelation that I’ve written a love story connected to my old friend, I just can’t stop laughing.
SIDEBAR: Good People
From the Netflix series, “After Life” created by Ricky Gervais.
Season 1, Episode 5
This scene begins at the 23:01 mark of the episode.
TONY:
“And, even though I’m in pain, it’s worth sticking around to maybe make my little corner of the world a slightly better place.”
ANNE:
“That’s all there is. Happiness is amazing. It’s so amazing, it doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not. There’s that lovely thing—a society grows great when old men plant trees, the shade of which they know they will never sit in.”
“Good people do things for other people. That’s it. The end.”
Chapter 55: Every Day
There's a great irony related to people like Koetting, Halsted, Cavalier, Nelson, and Voss:
"When you live a life of 'forget about me,' they never will."
They’ll never forget.
School kids in Two Harbors and Canadian are blessed to have coaches, teachers, and senior citizens still willing to play a child’s game. It’s a familiar game, one we all learned in kindergarten. It might be the most enduring—arguably, the most important of games.
“Duck, Duck, Goose” for the Texans among us?
No.
“Duck, Duck, Gray Duck” for the Minnesotans?
No.
Red Rover?
No.
Hide and Seek?
No.
Monopoly?
Definitely not.
Scavenger hunt and puzzles?
Ha ha!
Simon Says?
Getting close. But Simon gets it all wrong. He’s all talk—too bossy. Nobody likes the Simons of the world. Simon repels, doesn’t attract. Simon doesn’t change lives.
Oh, it’s a game. Football? Nope. Baseball? Nope. Basketball, golf, tennis? Please.
That leaves hockey.
In the panhandle of Texas? Hard pass on that.
In Two Harbors and Canadian, their game is the opposite of “Simon Says.” These are places where adults set the tone with their words and actions. Positive leadership. Being human. Exhibiting compassion. Encouraging. In these towns, where leaders don’t just talk-the-talk but walk-the-walk, where they lead by example, the most important of games is one played at the recent Cheer Camp in Two Harbors. It is known to all as “Follow the Leader.”
In Canadian and Two Harbors, it plays out like this:
I’ll show I care about you.
You’ll care about me.
I’ll show I care about others.
You’ll care about others.
I’ll listen to you.
You’ll listen to me and listen to others.
I’ll show I respect you.
You’ll respect me and respect others.
I’ll help you.
You’ll help me and help others.
I’ll be there when you need me.
You’ll be there when I need you.
I’ll forget about me; I’ll love you.
You’ll forget…wait…that bit of wordplay gets bumpy with the “FAMILY” acronym. But you understand.
I’ll love you.
You’ll love me.
Leaders in these small towns don’t wait until those lights illuminate football fields on Fridays. They know this game starts early and never ends. They know this game is their purpose. They know the first and most important rule of this game:
Every day is game day.
Contributors
Thank you to everyone for their contributions, guidance, and patience:
Special thanks to these four people without whom this story couldn’t have been written:
Tom Nelson – Head Coach, Football, Two Harbors Agates
Angie Nelson – Football Wife, Mother of five, Good Citizen
Scott Ross – Activities Director, Lifelong Friend
Melanie Ross – Cheerleading Coach, School Librarian, Alleged Saint
Andy Cavalier – Head Football Coach and Athletic Director, Canadian, Texas
James Bryant – Principal, Canadian High School
COVER PICTURE PAINTING
Brooklyn Nelson
ACTIVITIES DIRECTORS – Two Harbors Co-op
Kevin Snyder – Marshall School, Duluth, MN
Melissa Milroy – Lakeview Christian Academy, Duluth, MN
CHECK THE BOXES
Kyle Anderson – Coaching Staff
Todd Beck – Coaching Staff
Andrew Schreyer – Coaching Staff
Ben Eliason – Coaching Staff
Carol Anderson – Parent
AGATES COACHES+SUPPORT
Andy Morsette – Assistant Coach
Bill Anderson – Assistant Football Coach, Boys Basketball Coach
Josh Widdes – “Just an Assistant Coach”
Ryan McIntyre – Assistant Coach – Statistician
Scott Libal – Assistant Coach
COLOR GUARD – ANDERSON CLAFFY POST 154, TWO HARBORS
Jim Latvala
Scott Adams
Rey Lakso
67 SECONDS
Aaron Churness
Alec Churness
Emma Churness
Katelin Johnson
CHEERLEADERS SECTIONS
Atlanta Ness
Emma Churness
Emma Grover – Carlton/Wrenshall Girls Basketball
Heidi Holbeck
Max Byzewski – Cheerleader
Savannah Anderson – Cheerleader
Tina Marie Beck-Jones
Melanie Ross – Advisor
FOOTBALL PLAYERS
Amir Ali
Troy Carlson
Tommy DeChantal
Hugo Helstrom
Josh Johnson
Zach Johnson
Trenton Meeks
Scout Pfeffer
Chase Pierce
Jake Widdes
AGATES FOOTBALL HISTORY
Charles Halsted – Head Football Coach, Retired
Dave MacDonald – Former Activities Director and Coach, Retired
Larry Sorensen – Advisor, Two Harbors Sports Alumni History Facebook Page
Spencer Ross – Former athlete
THHS BAND
Nola Motzenbacher
RESTAURANTS
Vera Pratt Olson – Judy’s Cafe – Two Harbors
Lisa Heinonen – Owner – Judy’s Cafe
REFEREES
Austin Erickson, Referee – Minnesota
Matthew Erickson, Referee – Minnesota
Mike Schmidt, Referee – Minnesota
Brent Kubis, Referee – Minnesota
Justin Niemann, Referee – Minnesota
“IT PERSISTS”
Ali Ray
Kelly Ray
Scott Libal
Sophia Ray
Emma Churness
SIDELINE TO BEDSIDE
Charlie Halsted
Connie Halsted
Deb Halsted
Sande Halsted
Bob Nyberg
Lee Oling
Larry Smith
THE PIONEER
Atlanta Ness
Emma Churness
Jim Byzewski
Max Byzewski
Melanie Ross
Savannah Anderson
PARENTS/FRIENDS/GOOD CITIZENS
Dawn Jones
Deb Halsted
Jenny Falk
Joel Heller
Kelly Ray
Kyle Imholte
Nikki Meeks
CHAIN CREW
Mike Johnson
PHOTOGRAPHERS
Pam Carlson – Northern Lights pictures of Halsted Field, Ticket Manager
Lisa Malcomb – North Shore Storm, Agates Football, Yearbook photos including Silver Bay sports
Megan Loppnow – Proctor Rails sideline photographer.
Kim Kosmatka – Marshall High School Social Media.
TELEVISION MEDIA
Jeffrey McClure – Northern News Now
PRESS BOX and VIDEO
Gary Molitor
Halsted Field End Zone Cameras: Ziggy, Axel, Issac, Ryan and Junior
NORTH BRANCH HIGH SCHOOL
Justin Voss – Head Coach-Football
Jake Fenton – Jake Venton Productions
WRITING ADVISORS
Rusty Griffin – Writing Advisor
Tim Graupman – Writing Advisor
CANADIAN, TX SCHOOLS
Andy Cavalier – Activities Director, Head Coach-Football, Canadian TX, Motivator, Eminem Impersonator
Wendy Cavalier – School Teacher, Football Mom, Football Wife
James Bryant – Principal, Canadian High School, Football Dad, Basketball Dad
Chris Koetting – Hall of Fame Coach, Retired
Rosemary Koetting – Hall of Fame Wife, Teacher
Reagan Risley – Elementary School Principal, Button-Pusher
Kyle Lynch – Superintendent, Seminole School District
Michelle Thompson – Advisor
Jeff Quisenberry – School Principal, Optimist
Brandon Wall – Football Coach, Boys Basketball Coach, Slim Shady, Crooner—“Amarillo by Morning”
Braiden Galla – Coach, Teacher
WAY OF THE WILDCATS CAMP
Luke Flowers
Camren Cavalier
Wyatt Davis
Max Dumbauld
Blake Flowers
Clay Kendall
Emiliano Hernandez
Mandy Flowers
Kevin Flowers
Kathy Cavalier
Braiden Galla – Leader, Public Speaker, Coach, Teacher
Andy Cavalier
Wendy Cavalier
NO WORRIES – MILES OF SMILES
Terry Henderson
Brad Henderson
David Flowers – Former Head Coach, Canadian, and grandfather of Luke Flowers
Eric Hall
Jared Hohertz
Derek Maupin
George Peyton
Kyle Lynch – Superintendent of Schools, Seminole, Texas
MESA VIEW ASSISTED LIVING
Sondra Hill – Executive Director
Sonja McAnally – Activities Coordinator
Jazzy – Staff, Mesa View Assisted Living
Dale – Mesa View Assisted Living
Betty – Mesa View Assisted Living
OTHERS
Gary Henderson, Retired Hemphill County Sheriff
Charlotte Krodle, The Canadian Restaurant
Colby Leach – Canadian Booster Club
Officer Fredley – Law Enforcement Officer. I think he was assigned to keep an eye on me at the Pep Fest
COLORADO HONOR GUARD
Honor Guard, Harry C. Miller Post 1187, Castle Rock, CO
Dylan Gregory
Brett Pick
Craig Bussard
Dale Fort
Greg Fuller
Sam Holder
Tina Cosley
WRITING MOTIVATORS – STARBUCKS, HIGHLANDS RANCH
Craig Patterson
Tripper Allen
Mike, Door Dash Driver and the new author
Credits
Special thanks to the Canadian Record newspaper and Kale Steed’s “Press Pass Sports ” website. Both have been great sources of information. Laurie Ezzell Brown managed a heck of a newspaper in Canadian. Meanwhile, Kale continues to thrive with his sports-focused website based in the Pandhandle.
CANADIAN, TEXAS SECTION
The Canadian Record newspaper:
Luke Flowers – Liske Cup
https://www.canadianrecord.com/school-news/luke-flowers-chs-class-24-liske-cup-honore
https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth735594/?q=Canadian%20november%201999
PressPass Sports
https://www.presspass.news/my-dad-my-coach-my-mentor-my-friend/
https://www.presspass.news/no-surprise-andy-cavalier-named-new-canadian-head-football-coach/
Kale Steed’s post on “X” after interviewing Canadian coach, Brandon Wall
https://x.com/KaleSteed/status/1763019494136459759?s=20
Smokehouse Fire:
https://www.cnn.com/2024/02/29/us/texas-panhandle-smokehouse-creek-fire-thursday/index.html
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-dSjVRvqmY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQJIr2f1oaY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6O2KhYD6X0Q
KJ Doyle’s interview with Brandon Wall
https://x.com/kjdoyletv/status/1763041212942930251?s=20
“One Community” – Video produced by Reece McKelva
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGRp28ilvzg
Forbes
Rocky Mountain News: “Remembering the Brave” – July 22, 2006
http://www.rockymountainnews.com/drmn/local/article/0,1299,DRMN_15_4862521,00.html
Dennis Cavalier – Goddard High School
https://www.goddardef.org/o/gef/article/1774762
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org
From the Netflix series, “After Life” created by Ricky Gervais.
Season 1, Episode 5
This scene begins at the 23:01 mark of the episode.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDZpaA63g30
The March of 1975 Bizzard
https://www.weather.gov/dlh/memorablewinterstorms
The Patriot Guard website:
https://patriotguard.org/#about
WHAT ARE AGATES?
Writing Locations
Starbucks on University Avenue, Highlands Ranch, CO
Starbucks, Woodland Ave, Duluth, MN
Starbucks on Wildcat Reserve Parkway, Highlands Ranch, CO
Starbucks on Lucent Blvd, Highlands Ranch, CO
Starbucks on North Beach Street, Fort Worth, CO
Kirby Student Center, University of Minnesota—Duluth
Trident Booksellers and Cafe, Boulder, CO
Judy’s Cafe, Two Harbors, MN
Cafeteria, Two Harbors High School
Perk Place Coffeehouse & Bakery, Duluth
Boomtown Bar – Rice Lake Rd, Duluth, MN
The Blackbird Cafe, Kittredge, CO
Stepdaughter’s house – Indian Hills, CO
Mom and Stepfather’s House, Duluth, MN
Our house, Highlands Ranch, CO
Playlist
Apple Music Playlist
https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/every-day-is-game-day/pl.u-38oWXdeIdYNyBW
1 Steve Sabol A Hero Remembered
2 Explosions in the Sky Your Hand in Mine – Friday Night Lights Soundrack
3 Dave Grusin On Golden Pond
4 Kenny Chesney The Boys of Fall
5 Morgan Wallen More Than My Hometown
6 Morgan Wallen Chasin’ You
7 Sara Evans A Little Bit Stronger
8 The Verve Lucky Man
9 The Verve This Time
10 The Verve Bitter Sweet Symphony
11 Richard Ashcroft Bitter Sweet Symphony (Acoustic Hymns)
12 Richard Ashcroft They Don’t Own Me
13 The Verve Sonnet
14 The Verve Blue
15 Foster the People Sit Next To Me
16 Foster the People Paradise State of Mind
17 Oasis Wonderwall
18 The Cure Pictures of You
19 Joe Bonamassa Mountain Time (Live)
20 The Replacements Left Of The Dial
21 The Replacements I’ll Be You
22 The Replacements Can’t Hardly Wait
23 The Replacements Unsatisfied
24 The Replacements Alex Chilton
25 Todd Rundgren & Darryl Hall Can We Still Be Friends (Live From Darryl’s House)
26 Blake Shelton I’ll Name the Dogs
27 Blake Shelton God Gave Me You
28 Robbie Williams Angels
29 Don Henley The End of the Innocence
30 Pink Floyd – “Pulse” Album Any Colour You Like (Live)
31 Pink Floyd – “Pulse” Album Comfortably Numb (Live)
32 Pink Floyd – “Pulse” Album The Great Gig in the Sky (Live)
33 Pink Floyd – “Pulse” Album Us and Them (Live)
34 Pink Floyd – “Pulse” Album Eclipse (Live)
35 The Verve On Your Own
36 The Black Keys Turn Blue
37 Oasis Live Forever
38 Oasis Supersonic
39 Sara Evans I Could Not Ask for More
40 Outlaws Alessia Cara
41 Dia Frampton Heartless (Live on “The Voice”)
42 Dia Framption w/Blake Shelton I Will
43 Avril Lavigne My World
44 New Radicals You Get What You Give
45 ‘Til Tuesday What About Love
46 Vanessa Carlton Ordinary Day
47 Alicia Keys If I Ain’t Got You
48 Amanda Marshall Dark Horse
49 John Newman Love Me Again
50 Lupe Fiasco The Show Goes On
51 Alter Bridge One Day Remains
52 The Killers Mr. Brightside
53 The Killers When You Were Young
54 The Killers Somebody Told Me
55 Shakira Waka Waka
56 Steely Dan Home At Last
57 Kenny Chesney I Go Back
58 Stephane Deneveve Carpe Diem (From Dead Poet’s Society)
59 Claude Debussy Clair de Lune
60 Alan Silvestri Forrest Gump Suite
61 John Livingston The American President
62 Mammoth WVH Distance
63 Maren Morris The Bones
64 The Goo Goo Dolls Iris
65 Embrace Looking As You Are
66 Rush The Garden
67 The Cure Just Like Heaven
68 The Cure Friday I’m In Love
69 The Cure Lovesong
70 U2 With or Without You
71 U2 Bad
72 U2 I Will Follow
73 U2 In God’s Country
74 U2 I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
75 Khruangbin & Leon Bridges Texas Sun
76 George Strait Amarillo by Morning
77 Richard Ashcroft This is How It Feels
78 Richard Ashcroft You On My Mind in My Sleep
79 Stereophonics Maybe Tomorrow
80 The Verve Gravity Grave
81 The Verve History
82 Paul Westerberg First Glimmer
83 Kings of Leon Use Somebody
84 Todd Rundgren/Darryl Hall Can We Still Be Friends (Live From Darryl’s House)
85 Foster The People Pumped Up Kicks
86 Foster The People Coming of Age
87 Shed Seven Ocean Pie
88 Snow Patrol Chasing Cars
89 Noel Gallagher. AKA…What a Life!
90 Nickelback Photograph
91 Snow Patrol Life On Earth
92 Ian Brown Longsight M13
93 Jason Aldean Got What I Got
94 Kings of Leon Waste a Moment
95 Hoodie Allen All About It
96 The Verve The Sun The Sea
97 Red Hot Chili Peppers Dark Necessities
98 Queensryche Silent Lucidity
99 Eagles Hotel California
100 Eagles The Last Resort
101 Eagles New York Minute
102 Eagles Wasted Time
103 Eagles One of These Nights
104 Jackson Browne These Days
105 Walter Trout Band Jules Well
106 The Doobie Brothers Another Park Another Sunday
107 Explosions in the Sky So Long, Lonesome
108 Mt. Wolf Heavenbound
109 Mt. Wolf Exit
110 Mt. Wolf Intro
111 Papa Roach Kill The Noise
112 Saliva Ladies and Gentelmen
113 The Cult She Sells Sanctuary
114 The Cult Fire Woman
115 Daughtry What I Want
116 The Cars Dirve
117 k.d. lang Constant Craving
118 Steely Dan Aja
119 Steely Dan Kid Charlamagne
120 Santana Into the Night
121 Eagles Peaceful Easy Feeling
122 Amanda Marshall Let It Rain
123 Amanda Marshall Beautiful Goodbye
124 Amanda Marshall Sitting on Top of the World
125 The Doobie Brothers Minute by Minute
126 Van Morrison Into the Mystic
127 Van Morrison Days Like This
128 Van Morrison Moondance
129 Van Morrison Crazy Love
130 Van Morrison Tupelo Honey
131 Xenia Price Tag (From “The Voice”)
132 Santana The Game of Love
133 George Michael Cowboys and Angels
134 Weezer Happy Hour
135 Kenny Wayne Shepherd Deja Voodoo
136 Vanessa Carlton A Thousand Miles
137 The Script Breakeven
138 Tommy Tutone 867-5309 Jenny
139 Empire of the Sun Walking On a Dream
140 Neil Young Harvest Moom
141 The Script The Man Who Can’t Be Loved
142 The Weeknd In The Night
143 A Million Miles Away A Million Miles Away
144 Love My Way Love My Way
145 Eyes of a Stranger Eyes of a Stranger
146 Todd Rundgren & Darryl Hall It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference
147 Todd Rundgren & Darryl Hall I Saw the Light
148 Todd Rundgren & Darryl Hall Can We Still Be Friends
149 Oasis Don’t Look Back in Anger
150 Oasis Some Might Say
151 Oasis Morning Glory
152 Logic 1-800-273-8255
153 Selena Dreaming of You
154 Selena Como la Flor
155 Selena Amor Prohibido
156 Selena Bidi Bidi Bom Bom
157 Selena Wherever You Are
158 Selena El Toro Relajo
159 Daryl Hall and Train Wait For Me
160 Daryl Hall and Rob Thomas She’s Gone
Thank You
Thanks to my wife, Vickie, for her endless support throughout this process including her understanding of my need for short-notice road trips.
Thanks to my mom, Carol Davis Healy, for her everlasting encouragement to keep writing. Someday, I might actually start believing, like you, that I’m a writer.
