Friday Night Lights in Small-Town Washington

Last Friday night, while you were enjoying your wine bar or experimental theater or ginormous music festival, I went in search of the pleasures of small-town America: A Friday night high school rivalry football game.

Montesano and Elma have played 148 times

I found it in Montesano, a logging town of 3,000 that's halfway between Olympia and the coast. Sitting at Geppetto's Sports Bar on Pioneer Avenue before the game, I overheard the type of conversation that assured me I was truly in a small town.

One bar patron turns to another.

Patron #1: "Hear about Bob Timmons*?"

Patron #2: "Nope."

Patron #1: "Dead!"

Of cancer, he related, and so the small-town gossip went, touching on various forms of cancer suffered by people in town.

The guy sitting next to me leans in and says "So, how do you like it? This is what you get in a small town--everyone knows everybody's business."

They even knew my business. I challenge anyone to sit in a bar in Montesano, Washington, and not have your business known by the time you finish your first beer. I was only halfway done with my Dick's Danger Ale when the truth emerged: I was an under-employed writer from Seattle in town to watch the Montesano-Elma football game, or, as it's known there, "The East County Civil War."

The Montesano High Bulldogs and Elma High Eagles have played each other in football 148 times. The two towns, about 10 miles apart along Highway 12, were both founded around 1860 during the heydays of this state's logging boom.

The logging boom was also the reason Seattle was founded, as was Tacoma, as was Everett. Logging no longer rates as a major industry in Seattle (which is good, because all the sawdust would interfere with the bouquet of our artisan wines), but it still supports families on the Olympic Peninsula.

I'd arrived Thursday afternoon, just in time to check in on Montesano football practice. I was not the only spectator. In the parking lot that overlooks the field, men sat in their trucks and watched intently, pausing to spit tobacco out the window or to comment to the fella in the truck nearby. I drew some looks. I was not in a truck. And I was wearing women's flip-flops. I felt a smidge out of place. I retreated.

I was back 24 hours later, at the stadium 90 minutes before the 7 p.m. kickoff. Already, the Montesano section of the field's single grandstand was full. People had arrived at 3 p.m. to save spots, which you do by taping your blanket to the wooden bleacher section of your choosing. I would be sitting with the Elma rooters--their section was only half-full when I arrived, but would be completely packed by game time. Elma's lost the last three games between these teams, this would be their seniors' last chance to get a win in the rivalry.

At kickoff, a large group of maybe 250 Montesano rooters are crowded along the sideline in front of the grandstand. No seats for them.

Immediately after kickoff, I am reminded that the level of competition will be a little less than what I am accustomed to. The first play from scrimmage is a fumbled snap by Montesano (in maroon and gray), followed by an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty on Elma (in blue and white). I'm thinking this could be a long night.

But Montesano puts together two nice touchdown drives to take an early 14-0 lead. Elma is playing field position, but can't advance the ball. With three minutes left before half, they haven't gotten a first down.

It looks like Elma will head into half down 14-0, but they get an interception at midfield and finally start moving the ball. Excitement builds on the Elma side of the grandstand. The Elma cheerleaders chant "Big! Blue! Wrecking! Crew!" as the Eagles get a first and goal on the 8 after a long run by their top offensive threat, 6-2 receiver Justin Kolilis.

But they lose two yards on first down. On second down, Elma's QB Tyson Sutten attempts a fade route to Kolilis. Smart play, as Kolilis has a major height advantage. Unfortunately, Sutten commits the unforgiveable error of fade-route-throwing -- he underthrows his receiver, leaving the defender with a cream puff of an interception. Monte runs out the clock and retain their halftime lead.

The scene at halftime

At halftime I walk around the field, checking out the social event that is a small-town Friday night football game. Here is what I see:

--Middle school kids hanging out behind an equipment shed. It's five girls and one boy. The boy has his arm around one of the girls possessively.

--Elementary school kids tossing around a football.

-- A couple of cops, a couple of firefighters and a pretty girl hanging out next to the aid car.

--A clingy high school girl with her arms wrapped around her boyfriend, looking around suspiciously. No one goes near them.

--A band kid out of central casting. Skinny, crooked glasses, a goofy look on his face, a "Monte Band" t-shirt. The coupe de grace: The poor kid's jeans barely reach his ankles.

--In the parking lot above the field, a "Cheapskate Hill," where people who don't want to pay $5 to support their local high school team watch the game for free. Others watch from the parking lot on the bed of their pick-up trucks. It's an all-game tailgate.

Elma gets the ball to start the second half, but goes three-and-out. Montesano gets a long gain on a pump-and-go pass. They add to their lead with a field goal.

Montesano gets the ball back again and commences a punishing, demoralizing drive consisting almost exclusively of runs up the middle. Elma is deflated. On the Elma sideline, 5-5 junior Buddy Spencer, urges his teammates to stay engaged. "C'mon! Talk! No quit! Don't stop talking!"

The Elma sideline watches as their hopes of winning dwindle

But another two punishing runs up the middle put Monte in end zone. It's 24-0 and this game is done. (It finished 31-0). Elma's seniors will forever live with the indignity of losing four straight to their rivals.

Perhaps the problem is too much inspiration and not enough perspiration. One Elma player is wearing a t-shirt that reads: "No bird soars to (sic) high if he soars with his own wings." I'm no bird expert, but I think that's exactly what they do. Isn't it? Hokey sayings--especially false ones--will not lead a team to victory.

A light rain begins to fall and I decide to walk back to my car for the long drive ahead. Ninety minutes from now, I'll be fighting Bumbershoot traffic. So long, small town living!

*Faked the name