A Day in History – Our Boys Came Home!

Our ears were tuned in and we were glued to the radio station. We could hear the fans getting louder and louder. “Let’s go Pirates!”

“Oh,”

“Ahhh,

“No, no, no.”

“Yeah!

We echoed every sound and lived every moment with the players and fans. We heard feet running down the court, the ball dribbled, and then the clock sounded.  The radio announcer was yelling almost incoherent-THEY WENT ALL THE WAY-THEY WENT-THEY WENT-AHHHHH!  It was so exciting we had tears of relief, joy and sheer exhaustion from sitting on the edge of the couch and holding our breath through the whole game. We felt as if we were there on the bleachers jumping up and down with the parents, coaches and fan. We were a part of history in our little town of Pagosa Springs. Boys’ and girls’ basketball teams had fought for their place at State.

It was heard rumors from the opposing teams that they felt Pagosa’s basketball teams were overrated. Well there is nothing overrated about making it to State!

n the day when history was made in Pagosa Springs, we are all winners. Some stayed in the background, some felt they let down themselves, family and the town, some rode the victory bus home with the golden ball, and one got to say those famous words, “Pagosa Springs Boys are #1 State Champions.”

Facebook, texting, phone calls and e-mail spread throughout the town. On Sunday, the good fans of Pagosa were already planning a victory parade to welcome everyone home from State. Bright yellow signs, decorated cars and trucks with balloons, and flags were waiting for the Big Yellow Bus. The Press was there with a notebook and camera.

Several cars met the bus at the top of Wolf Creek and followed the precession down the mountain. The boys were still on the top of the mountain of success as they followed behind nine police, sheriff and patrol cars down Hot Springs Boulevard.

It was a sight to see, the basketball boys were smiling and hanging out of the bus windows as if they had come home from war. Honking cars full of excited fans were trailing behind.

As soon as the precession passed, we, the fans jumped into our cars and raced to the high school. The parking lot was full of cars and fans also waiting to share in the victory celebration of the boys.

Everyone strained their neck to catch a glimpse of the faces of the boys and the gold ball. This ball will soon be transported into the Pagosa Springs High School trophy case with the other trophies and pictures of past students.

In the crowd, I recognized one of the girls from the basketball team. She was holding back tears from their own defeat while she smiled for the boy’s victory. My heart went out to her.

I suppose she was thinking that the girls’ team didn’t get to ride the escorted bus, weren’t met at the top of Wolf Creek Pass by their fans and they didn’t come home to a parade. I want to assure her that the girls fought their way, game after game, and had been good enough to have had gone to State. They are winners to this town. It’s hard to see it at the time when others are getting the attention.

How many of you, who listened to the radio coverage, know the man behind the voice? I would venture to say few know Chris. He said on the after show, I have been doing this for 17 years; I have never had the opportunity to call a State Championship game and say “Pagosa Springs, #1 State Champions. This is the highlight of my career.”

Fifty-three was the magic number. The winning coach, Randy Sorenson celebrated his fifty-third birthday. Pagosa Springs had not brought home a State Champion for fifty-three years and they won 53 to 49.

Final Brushstroke! Eighteen young men will never forget this moment in their whole lifetime. They will talk, brag and hold on to their youth by this monumental day. They experienced how it felt to be winners. No one can ever take that away from them.  Just ask the men who won it in 1960!

Mama Bear came out of Hibernation at STATE

I came home from the State Wrestling Tournament in a snow blizzard over Wolf Creek Pass with the windows rolled down. The three teenage boys in the far backseat were making horrible smells and singing western songs at the top of their lungs. Even in all of that, believe me, the ride home was a piece of cake compared to watching the wrestling tournament in Denver.

My son-in-law told me several times, “Remember it is State. State is not for the weak and faint at heart.”

Well, the Mama Bear came out of Hibernation. I was watching My Precious wrestle on the mat. The score was within one point. Some lady three seats down, stood up in front of me, and blocked my view. I yelled at the top of my voice, “Sit down in front.” She didn’t hear me. She adjusted herself, smiled and looked at her friend in the next seat over and started talking again.

I came unglued. I yelled again, she looked at me, found her seat quickly, and sat down. My boy was seconds from winning or losing. Apparently she wasn’t there for My Precious.

That’s how it was the whole weekend at the State Wrestling Tournament. There was no mercy in me for anyone playing rough with our boys. I wanted to blow the whistle on a guy who was playing dirty. I would have blackballed him for life. I wanted to beat up someone. I wanted to talk trash. I didn’t, I restrained myself. I did yell at the referee for calling a stall on my grandson. I didn’t see him stalling. That one point cost him a match.

Not only was the adrenaline pumping in the veins of the wrestlers, I was feeling every hit, too. Yes, at the end of the evening I felt like I had wrestled the big guy and I deserved a Tee-shirt, with my name printed on the back, along side our five guys and their coaches.

Wrestling is a very emotional sport. At the end of Regionals, I saw coaches cry. The boys came off the mat so high on adrenaline they were doing backflips. It was at Regional my sweet grandson separated his shoulder. He had five days to recover before State.

At one of the matches during the Wrestling Tournament in Monte Vista, I heard a mother yell, “He’s a beast.” She was talking about my grandson. He was winning. I wondered why she was so upset. I didn’t feel the pain until it happened to me.

I felt the pain at State. My Precious held his arm to his side, fought his opponent and won with one arm. By the next match, the boy went for the arm and pulled it out and held it until I had to turn my head. I was screaming, “Don’t’ hurt him.”

My son-in-law said to me, “It’s State. They are the best, and they come to win, no matter what it takes.”

I argued, “Well, I’m sure the coach told him to go for the arm.”

“Those boys don’t need to be told, they see a hurt arm, and they go for it.”

“Now I understand why Rocky’s girlfriend wouldn’t go to his fights. She couldn’t watch Rocky get beat up.”

My son-in-law, the voice of reason, said it this way. “These boys have been groomed for years to win. They didn’t just start this season. Its like this, when I was in the service, they said, ‘If you want to be an admiral, it starts now when you join up. You are going to take advantage, do whatever it takes, you won’t care if anyone likes you, and you will fight now to be number one.

“The boys who are serious about winning State next year have already started thinking and working out for it. They aren’t going to wait until wrestling season to start. It depends on how much they want it, if they are willing to pay the price to be number one. It starts now.”

I was proud of our five guys who went to State. They wrestled their hearts out. Our boys are already talking about next year.

Talk about the heart fluttering when My Precious said after the match, “Grandma, I want you to sit where I can see you next year.”

I told him, “I’ll be there front and center. I’m gearing up now. I wouldn’t miss it for anything, even if I have to wear blinders. I’m in it for the long haul.”

Final Brushstroke! It’s still winter but watch out for Mama Bear. If you mess with her cub, you’re asking for trouble, and you’re going to have to answer to her.

Sunday Afternoon at the Matinees!

It was Sunday afternoon and Lincoln was playing at the Liberty.

As we do every Sunday evening, we got together for family night. My children came flying in about the same time we got to their house. They were talking and laughing about the afternoon they had just spent at the matinee. “It was filled with old people not an empty seat in the house”.

“Old people? I thought kids went to matinees. Older people can go any time; isn’t it the same price?” I said to them.

“No, the older people don’t drive after dark. So, they must go to afternoon matinees. We were the only two young people in the whole theatre,” My son-in law with the white hair spoke up.

Then they began telling me about their afternoon. “Mind you, it was Lincoln and not a lot of action. It was all talking on the big screen. The audience talked among themselves. ‘Huh. What did they say?’  Someone answered, ‘I don’t know. Ask Harvey.’ Then the other yelled back, “They said…” And she would repeat it. This went on through the whole movie. It was so noisy, it was like we were watching with kids, and we couldn’t hear a thing. Never again will we go to an afternoon matinee.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Trust us, it was that bad. Then, there was a gentleman who escorted in two older ladies. The women got seated with their purses. Pulled out their drinks from their bags, and opened Ziplock baggies with their snacks.

“Before the movie started, the gentleman said, “Myrtle always has to go to the bathroom, let’s change seats.” They all stood up, picked up their bags, and filed out into the aisle. The gentleman went in first and sat down. Then the two older ladies took their seats next to him on the aisle, and settled in with their goodies again.

During the movie guess who had to go to the bathroom? You guessed it! It wasn’t the two ladies, but it was the gentleman. The two older ladies had to get up, pick up their stuff and move to the aisle again. They let him out and the stood in the aisle until he returned. Then they went through the whole exercise again, getting settled in.”

My son-in-law said, “One woman was snoring louder than I ever snore. We couldn’t stop laughing, we felt like we were in the Twilight zone (the sci-fi, not the ones with the vampires).”

Thoughts were going through my head,  “Well, you know you are bringing it close to home. I am aware of all those little things we do now that we are getting older which drives younger people crazy. A good example is this. Your Dad will stand at the register, hold up the line, and tell the cashier something she doesn’t care anything about. She endures him. I’ll tell him, “Honey, get out of the way. She doesn’t want to hear about your hunting story.”

I noticed this is also happening to me. I have certain pockets for my finances. I’ll stand at the checkout until I have my market card put away, my debit card put back, the purchase is registered in my checkbook, and then I will move out of the way. The checker has started ringing up the next customer and pushing my things to the side.

I always thought I moved fast. I used to, but apparently I don’t anymore. We went to a restaurant outside of Denver, you know the one where you stand in line to order your burrito, and they bullet “pico de gallo, or spicy corn salsa, beef or chicken, cheese?” I have been reciting my order for 5 minutes before they get to me, and then…. “deer in headlights.” I look at them, verging on a panic attack and suddenly, I can’t seem to say steak fast enough and I can’t remember if it’s better with or without sour cream.

The counter girl has been on some kind of drug, with only five hours of sleep the night before, is rolling her eyes and looking at the next customer, like really, who is this woman? The girl is stepping from one foot to another.  No doubt she has the order on her I-phones, ready to recite it.

I guess the young move at a different clip.  Or, have you noticed at a buffet line, two older people will talk a little, change places with their friend, sample it, and change places again? Discuss what the ingredients must be in the different dishes, and then tell a story of remember when.... You can just stand back and let them have their own little party or go around.

My children said to us, ”You will really like Lincoln but there is a lot of dialogue in the whole movie, I think it is best for you to watch it on Pay Preview, so that you have the subtitles on the screen.” Maybe they are just keeping us off the streets.

Final Brushstroke! I am not ready to get old. Is it necessary? But please be nice, we are probably someone’s parents.