Showing posts with label frank workman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frank workman. Show all posts

Frank Workman on Sports: The team with most heart

Friday, October 11, 2013


The program lists Shorewood's Anxhelos Pere as being 5' 7" tall, 165 pounds.  

If the T-Birds' running-back/defensive back is within two inches or 20 pounds of that, then I'm a jet pilot.

But one thing is certain about the scrappy, dignified, senior leader of the team .... he's all heart.

There may be no player on either side of the field in Friday night's Rotary Cup Game who wants to be on the winning side more than Pere.

His T-Birds have lost all three Rotary Cup Games since his freshman year.  In fact, they've lost the last nine in the series.

Last year, Shorewood led 17-7 before eventually falling to their crosstown rivals, the Shorecrest Scots, 23-17.

This time a much younger Shorewood team, with freshman Andrew Blair and his brother, sophomore Justus Blair, manning one side of the offensive line, hopes to open holes big enough for Pere to blast through, as they try to put a stop to the nine-game skid in Rotary Cup Games.

Shorecrest will counter with lightning-quick quarterback Nik Hendricks performing tricks of razzle-dazzle to keep the T-Birds defense off-guard. He hopes to have a healthy Aaron Kelly to throw to (who has been hampered by a barking hamstring), along with steady and sure-handed Jake Oliver.

Soph QB Aaron Okamura spearheads the T-Birds attack as he'll hand the ball off to another sophomore, Harrison Jacobs, or the aforementioned Pere. He'll also target lanky Zane Hopen, a 6' 4" basketball player making his football debut this season, as well as Isaac Whitaker, another sophomore. Yet another sophomore, Mo Holley, is rounding back into shape following an injury that has lingered since last season.

It won't be easy to miss the Scots' Matt Brennan on defense. He is a heat-seeking missile that hits anything and everything that moves.

The opposing coaches, Rob Petschl (SW) and Brandon Christensen (SC), will have their close friendship tested for about three hours Friday night.

The last time SW won in this series was 2003, by an extra point, in overtime.

It says here that this year's game will be just as close.

And if it is, expect the team with the most heart to finish on top.


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Frank Workman on Sports: The first day of live contact at high school football practices

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Frank Workman

By Frank Workman

Saturday morning, turf still damp from last night’s drizzle.

It’s still August but there’s an unmistakable chill that portends fall, with clouds and a slight breeze blowing through.

Music blaring.  Whistles blowing. Hearts pounding.

A coach, his voice hoarse after three days of conditioning drills. So hoarse as to scare women and children.

Players, their muscles likely as sore as the coach’s throat.

A mix of boys … some big and beefy, others as thin as reeds.

Strong legs and fresh faces, some with peach fuzz growing. One razor might last the team the whole season.

Enthusiasm abounds. Pads (and bodies) crunch together.

A mom’s handwriting on the top of her son’s Thermos, proclaiming it as his own.

A stale smell belies the morning’s freshness when the team runs sprints past an observer.

A coaching staff --- trying to figure out how to take this lump of clay that is their assemblage of boys and sculpt them into the team that will perform, soon, on Friday nights. 

Trying to find just the right players to put into each position, to best take advantage of their skills.

Trying to find leaders among the boys who will motivate, encourage, and take ownership of their teammates, for it is the players, not the coaches, who are the team.

It happened Saturday, at every school across the state.

The first day of live contact at high school football practices.

The season begins on the first Friday night in September.

Shorecrest plays Lynnwood in the late game, 8pm, at Edmonds-Wooday.

Shorewood opens at home against Cascade. Kickoff is at 7pm at Shoreline Stadium.

The Rotary Cup is scheduled for Friday, October 11. 7pm.

I can’t wait.

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Frank Workman on Sports: ruminating on the Mariners

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Frank Workman
By Frank Workman

While I am plenty occupied watching our local high-school athletes compete in April, May, and September (Baseball’s first two, and then final, months), I remain, and ever shall be, a Baseball fan.  And as such, I am a devoted follower of the fortunes of the home town team, the Seattle Mariners.

Since their last winning season in 2009, the  M’s have more resembled a comatose hospital patient in the ICU, stuck on the Critical list, than a competitive baseball team for the last three and a half years.

Yet during this time, I have purposely plopped my patootie on the couch every night, turned the TV on to the M’s game, and had two thoughts in mind---- ‘I can’t believe I’m watching this …stuff…  again’; and  ‘I sure love Baseball’.

Their inability to score runs reached epic proportions in 2010 when they plated only 513 runners, the lowest in Baseball since the introduction of the Designated Hitter to the game in 1973.

For some perspective, the LA Dodgers of my youth were renown for not scoring runs.

During the pitching heyday of Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, a ‘Dodger Rally’ consisted of a Maury Wills walk, a steal of second base, a sacrifice bunt by Junior Gilliam, followed by a sacrifice fly from Tommy Davis.

A run on no hits --- a Dodger rally.

More often than not, that one run would stand up and be enough to get the Dodgers a win on their way to pennants in 1963, ’65, and ’66.

In those three years, those anemic Dodgers scored only 640, 608, and 640 runs.

Again, in 2010, the M’s mustered only 513 runs. In 2011, the number improved, albeit slightly, to 556.  Last year it ‘rocketed to 619’.

The league averages those same three years were   721 (’10), 723 (’11), and 721 (’12).

During this time, a two-run deficit has been a death sentence in any given game for this team.

In fact, the M’s have struggled so much at the plate the last three years, you could play the Alphabet Game with them while you’re waiting for the light to turn green.

Start with the letter A and find an adjective to describe them --  ‘awful’, ‘abyssmal’ and ‘atrocious’ come readily to mind.  Work your way up the rest of the alphabet.  (When I’ve gotten to E, I’ve had to settle for  ‘ewww’.)

Having said all this, finally, at long last, the M’s are starting to show some signs of life, like that patient finally beginning to emerge from his coma.

In the last month, seven young position players (virtually all of them home-grown) have begun to click as their baseball pedigrees have suggested they would, sooner or later.

Zunino, Smoak, Franklin, Miller, Seager, Saunders and Ackley have provided a spark, reintroducing local fans to the long-forgotten concept of the timely base-hit --- one that actually drives in a runner and puts a run on the board.  Sometimes, even, the next hitter does the same thing, and what do you know, will you look at that?

It’s a crooked number on the board!

With runs (or simply the threat of being able to score) any and all things are possible.

This is not to say this team is a threat to play .500 ball this season, much less contend for the post-season.

With a pitching staff of  “Felix and Iwakuma and three days of doom-a”, this team’s recovery is nowhere near complete.

But at least there is reason to hope, if not believe, that there are better days ahead.

I say we upgrade this team, cautiously, to Watchable.

In time, we may even pronounce them Interesting.


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Frank Workman on Sports: Ready to play at a higher level

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Amy-Eloise Neale in the second lap of the 800 meter
with no one near her
Photo by John McAlpine

By Frank Workman

Amy-Eloise Neale is a senior at Glacier Peak High School.

She is a runner.

She is majestic and regal and graceful.

Her feet hit the ground as gently and relentlessly as a November drizzle.

Her long strides don’t just cover ground – they inhale it.

Through it all, her face remains as placid and serene as a baby’s when it falls asleep on its mama’s shoulder.

Ready to play at a higher level
Photo by John McAlpine

It’s not unusual to see a high school athlete of whom it can be said ‘he/she is ready to play at a higher level’.

I’ve seen three such athletes this year.

I’ve been saying this about Miss Neale since she was a freshman.

Recently she was competing at Shoreline Stadium in the Wesco Championship, winning the 1600 Meters on Wednesday, breaking her own Meet record in the process.

Two nights later, she won the 800 Meters, breaking her own Meet record by three seconds, finishing more than 100 yards ahead of her nearest competitor.  Her time was the second fastest in the nation this year.

Shortly thereafter she won the 3200 meters.  You’ll have to forgive her not breaking her own Meet record again…..the 3200 was contested a scant thirty minutes after she’d won the 800.

A half-hour after the 3200, she was anchoring the 4x400, the last event of the night.

My role throughout the two days was to introduce the top eight finishers of every event to the stadium crowd.

After the last race was over, I still had two race results to announce, followed by the final team standings.

By the time my duties were done and I was ready to leave the stadium, most of the lights had been turned off. The clean-up crew  (aka The Meet Organizers) was hard at work sweeping up and putting equipment away.  A couple of coaches and parents lingered.

As I turned to leave, I took one last look at the track.

There was a sight I’ve seen each of the last four years when I was leaving this event.

A solitary figure, alone in the darkness, was taking cooling-down laps.

It was Amy-Eloise Neale.

She is a runner.


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Frank Workman on sports: '42'

Monday, April 22, 2013

Frank Workman
Photo by Wayne Pridemore
By Frank Workman

For better than 25 years, we have honored the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. by celebrating his birthday in January. School children are annually taught his lesson in courage of using peaceful, non-violent methods to achieve equality.

In many homes across our land, Dr. King is revered and considered a hero, as well he should be.

But if not for Jackie Robinson’s monumental display of courage when he integrated our National Pastime, we may never have learned Dr. King’s name.

I was able to catch a matinee performance this week of the new Jackie Robinson movie, ‘42’.

As was the case with the 1950 movie ‘The Jackie Robinson Story’ (with Jackie Robinson playing himself), this version limits itself to his contract signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers prior to the 1946 season (when he played for their AAA affiliate in Montreal), through his rookie year in 1947 with the Dodgers.

The 1950 production treated the rampant racism he faced relatively gingerly, while ‘42’ takes the gloves off and graphically exposes us to what the times were like, and what he endured on a daily basis --- from friends and foes alike.

He had teammates, mostly Southerners, who petitioned to have him dropped from the team. An opposing manager is depicted hurling the foulest of invective at him from atop the dugout steps. He was second in all of baseball in being Hit-By-Pitches in 1947. The Dodgers were refused lodging at one hotel, due to Robinson’s presence on the team.

Throughout his first two seasons with the Dodgers, Robinson was under strict orders from their General Manager Branch Rickey (played reasonably convincingly by Harrison Ford) to never fight back. Rickey didn’t want the first black man to play organized Baseball to be afraid to fight back … he wanted a man with the guts NOT to fight back.

‘42’ provides a new generation of baseball fans and Americans (in the end, aren’t they all one-and-the-same?) a history lesson on how things used to be in our country --- when a black man couldn’t even play Baseball, much less get elected President of the United States --- and the irreplaceable role Jackie Robinson played in helping us become what we are today.

The word ‘courage’ is used a lot when talking about sports. So is ‘hero’.

A golfer sinks a downhill putt to win a tournament, and he is said to have shown courage in the way he steadied his nerves.

A basketball player makes a couple of free throws late in the game, on the road with the roaring crowd trying to distract him, and that’s courage.

A receiver leaps up to catch a pass in the middle of the field, knowing he’s going to get clobbered by a defensive back, and that’s courage.

Do these things enough times and they call you a hero.

Tell you what. Take your kids (middle school age and up) to see ‘42’. Go as a family. On the ride home, talk about the movie with them. Talk about his courage, and talk about the hero he has been to so many people for so many years.

Chances are they had no idea about Jackie Robinson.

Chances are they’ll change their idea of what a hero truly is. So might you.


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Frank Workman on Sports: Jackie Robinson

Monday, April 15, 2013

Frank Workman
Photo by Wayne Pridemore
By Frank Workman

I was already a Baseball fan when the Dodgers moved out west in 1958. Jackie Robinson had retired after the 1956 season and I never got the chance to see him play.

Through the story-telling of their long-time radio announcer Vin Scully, I became aware of Jackie, and what he went through, to some extent, in breaking Baseball’s color barrier in 1947.

Back then, one of the local TV channels in Southern California regularly aired a movie each week, the same movie for five nights, Monday through Friday at 8 PM, billing it as the ‘Million Dollar Movie’.

One week, when I was ten, the Million Dollar Movie was the 1950 production of ‘The Jackie Robinson Story’, with Jackie Robinson playing himself. I was mesmerized, watching it all five nights, being allowed to stay up past my bedtime. 

The movie tells of his youthful days in Pasadena, then UCLA (where he lettered in four sports), and finally his introduction to Organized Baseball.

Only then did I begin to get a glimpse of what he went through, accomplished, and overcame -- not to mention being able to see him with my own eyes, hear him speak, swing the bat, run the bases, and do all the things a ballplayer does.

Fast forward almost ten years, and I was a sophomore at Fullerton Jr. College, serving as the stat-boy and team manager for the school basketball team. The previous year our team had finished third in state, behind powerful Pasadena CC and their up-and-coming head coach Jerry Tarkanian. On a December Saturday night in 1969, our team travelled to Pasadena to play the defending state champs (in what turned out to be a tiny shell of a gym, with maybe three rows of seats around the court).

As the players on our team were getting dressed in the locker room prior to the game, I wandered about, looking around to see if there were any school records posted on the walls, as was the case at most schools.

I usually found it a satisfying exercise, because invariably a familiar name or two would reveal itself, sort of an ‘aha’ moment for me, when I would recognize someone I’d read or heard about – an athlete who may have gone on to Olympic glory or professional ball.

Track and field records were the most interesting to look for.

It was rare for me to see a record that had lasted for much longer than five years, if that, at any school. Somebody always seemed to come along, aiming and succeeding at getting their name on their school’s record board.

But that night in 1969, I saw a record on the wall in the locker room at Pasadena CC that had stood since 1939!

As my eyes moved to learn more, I saw that the event was the Broad Jump (now known, more politely, as the Long Jump).

And that man who had held the school record for thirty years (and may still, to this day, for all I know) was Jackie Robinson.

We celebrate great athletes all the time, for their on-the-field feats.

Too much, perhaps.

But the day comes when all athletes see their talents fade, usually when they are still in the prime of their youth.

What they do afterwards stands as the true mark of their character and the impact they had.

“A life is not important except for the impact it has on other lives,” Jackie said on many occasions.

The impact Jackie Robinson had in his life broke barriers, impacting our nation in a far greater way than almost anybody who came before him, or since.

He shines as a beacon to us all.

And how far he jumped in 1939 doesn’t really matter any more.


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Frank Workman on Sports: the player with ten hands

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Frank Workman
Photo by W. Pridemore
By Frank Workman

High School State Basketball tournaments tip-off around the state shortly, the eight best boys and girls teams vying for the chance to cut down the nets on Saturday night and be called ‘State Champs’ for the rest of their lives.

Boys are to be admired for their superior size, speed, and strength. Most of them have springs for legs. Rosters are chock-full of players who can rise up and drill a jump shot with a hand in their face, and every team has at least one guy who can emphatically slam dunk and bring the crowd to its feet.

Girls, on the other hand, need a teammate to throw them a pass or set a screen to get an open look. It’s a rare sight to see a girl launch a true jump shot, unless it’s very close to the basket. Sometimes one girl’s foot-speed is superior to everyone else’s, and her path to the hoop is unimpeded – but her resulting lay-up is far more uncertain than the boy’s dunk.

Perhaps the most dramatic play in the girls game, the moment that brings the crowd to its feet (and their hearts to their throats), comes when teammates have beautifully passed the ball in such a way as to get it into the hands of their long-range specialist.

From the defense’s bench comes the cry of “shooter”!

The shot is released – it hangs in the air for what can seem an eternity – before it swishes through the net.

Three points.

While the boys can play at dazzling speeds, above the rim, too much of the time their game deteriorates into individual play, while the girls tend to display more teamwork and cohesion.

In fact, Coach Wooden may have been describing girls basketball perfectly when he said “the player who puts the ball in the basket has ten hands”.


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Frank Workman on sports: the end of an era

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The end of an Era - By Frank Workman

Frank Workman
Photo by W. Pridemore

When the Shorewood girls basketball team defeated Ferndale 54-52 in a District 1 elimination game, not only was there a lot on the line for both teams, it marked the end of an era.

It was the final game played in the T-Birds gym.

If their new gym is anything like Shorecrest's, it will be a monumental improvement.

I've attended maybe fifty games in the Shorewood gym over the years.

To this day, my first thought every time I step inside the place is to recall  Bette Davis' most famous movie line  ---  "What a dump".

But I have warmed to the gym over time, and another hoary bromide comes to mind --- "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home".

Once you get past the dim lighting; the darkened floor (presumably from years of waxy yellow buildup); the drably colored walls; the leaky roof; and the odd configuration of the stands - instead of having one continuous set of bleachers on either side of the building, the stands are divided into fourths, with the best locations at half-court being completely empty (imagine a football stadium with no seats between the 45 yard line); once you get past the flaws, you realize the court is 94x50 feet, the basket is exactly ten feet off the ground, and isn't that all that really matters?

Thanks to a bond measure passed by We the People several years ago, our high schools are undergoing much-needed refurbishing.

New class rooms, a new cafeteria, new parking lots, and yes, a new gym, are nearing completion.  

They'll be newer, nicer, and better.

But before the movers come, Tuesday night offered one last chance for T-Birds and local hoops fans, coaches, and cognoscenti to convene and to capture in their memories, once and for all, what the 'old' Shorewood gym looked like, and to remember all the times they'd had there.

After all, it was the end of an era.


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Frank Workman on sports: Learning lessons the hard way

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

By Frank Workman

An educator friend once observed that High School sports represent the non-traditional classroom. Unlike an English or math class, where students learn their lessons during the week and then take the test on Friday; athletes take the test on Friday (play their game), then learn the lesson afterwards.

It has just come to light this weekend that close to a dozen young athletes at Everett HS have learned one of life’s harshest lessons, as a result of attending a party over the Christmas holidays in which activity unbecoming of minors (involving alcohol and/or drugs) was being engaged in. This represents a violation of the Athletic Code of Conduct many HS athletes agree to as a condition of participation in the sport.

As a result, these students’ basketball seasons, which are just now at the halfway point, are over.

They have all been suspended from playing.

Their teams, candidates to make Districts, if not State, have seen their dreams dashed.

Their replacements will undoubtedly play their hearts out, especially those given their first real taste of varsity playing time. Most of them have dreamed of the day when they could wear the colors and represent their school. You never replace a hero with a zero.

Still, all those involved with the boys and girls basketball teams at Everett will be left to wonder ‘what might have been’. Probably for the rest of their lives.

Coaches all around Puget Sound will take this opportunity to remind their players of the Code, and to plead with them to not do anything off the court that would jeopardize the team’s chances.

Perhaps parents will be reminded to keep a more watchful eye on their kids. Some might take turns offering their homes for post-game gatherings, even springing for the pizza and pop the kids can enjoy, under proper adult supervision.

Ronald Reagan’s advice on dealing with the Rooskies (when it came time to mutually disarm) seemed sound at the time, and probably can be applied to parents dealing with teenagers: ‘Trust but verify’.

Another old bromide comes to mind: ‘Never invite trouble, it always accepts’.

While it’s likely the Everett kids weren’t the only ones who violated the Code recently, they are the latest ones to be made an example of and to suffer the consequences of their actions.

Whether their lesson will be learned by others, or ignored, will depend as much on the teachers as it will the students.


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Sports with Frank Workman: sports dreams

Saturday, December 1, 2012

By Frank Workman


In a matter of days, Sports Illustrated will share with us their selection for their Sportsman of the Year.

Trying to guess the honoree each year makes for good sport itself.  The topic makes for a relatively lively and safe (in this election year) conversation on Thanksgiving Day, and it gives a reason to review the year's activities.

The New York Football Giants won the Super Bowl, Eli Manning's second.

Kentucky's transient freshmen took the college basketball championship.

LeBron James' Miami Heat (finally) won the NBA crown.

The Summer Olympics had a bevy of stars, but absent a duplication of Michael Phelps'  8 Gold Medals in 2008, no single American's performance stood out - although Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt's brief and breathtaking victories electrified and awed the world-wide audience.

MVP Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers led the American League in batting average, home runs, and runs batted in - the Triple Crown, the first since 1967. But his team was swept in the World Series by the San Francisco Giants, whose Buster Posey won the NL MVP award, made all the more remarkable given his comeback from a horrific knee injury suffered during the previous season.

This year's Sportsman recipient may come from those listed above.

My choice (and prediction), though, goes to a group -  not an individual or a team, but a group.

This year the Sportsman of the Year will need a name change; to the Sportswomen of the Year.

Hand the prize to this year's American female Olympians.

From the Beach Volleyballers to the Soccer, Basketball, Swimming, and Gymnastic teams, this year's American women manifested the destiny that was created by the enactment of Title IX back in the 1970's. 

Their performance dominated this year's Games like no others.

For every Gold Medal that was awarded to an American woman in London this summer, there are a million American girls who imagined themselves standing one day on the Victory Stand and hearing our National Anthem played in their honor.

We get to watch those young athletes as they strive to make their dreams come true, from the peewee levels all the way up through High School and College competition.

While most will fall short of their greatest aim, they will all be better off, and our world a better place, because they aimed high.

And because they had this year's Olympians to show them that their dreams can come true.


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Frank Workman on Sports: The essence of sports - and rivalries

Thursday, October 4, 2012

By Frank Workman


It's finally arrived.  It's here at last.

The one day a year when students and fans from rival schools Shorecrest and Shorewood all gather in one place to cheer their lungs and root their hearts out in hopes of helping their team emerge victorious Friday night at 7 in the annual Rotary Cup football game at Shoreline Stadium, in front of what is expected to be an overflow and festive crowd.

At practice Thursday, both coaches pronounced their teams fit as fiddles and ready for the fur to fly.   

Shorewood coach Rob Petschl, the epitome of the eternal optimist,  proclaimed QB Aaron Miller and WR Chris Namba ready to return to the fray after being sidelined last week for their game against Meadowdale.

Shorecrest coach Brandon Christensen marveled at the recuperative powers that occur during what his team calls   " 'wood Week".

Both squads come into the contest with even marks of 1-4.  Both teams picked up their only win during Week 2 of the season.

The Scots hold a commanding 23-10 lead in the series, including the last 8 in a row over the T-Birds, dating back to 2003.

The teams would appear to be evenly matched, as both teams have struggled to score, while allowing their respective opponents more points than they would have liked.

Expect a memorable night and a close game - one that could go down to the final play.

For one team Friday night, dreams will come true, while for the other, a defeat will nag at them for the rest of their lives.

Until the day they become parents themselves, it's quite likely that nothing in their lives will matter this much to the boys playing in the game.

It is the very essence of what sports, and rivalries, are all about.


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Frank Workman on Sports: Top Ten list for Friday night football

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Friday night at Shoreline Stadium promises to be one of the most festive times of the year when the football teams from Shorecrest and Shorewood square off against each other at 7 o'clock in the annual Rotary Cup Game.

TOP TEN THINGS THE SAVVY FAN KNOWS 
ABOUT ATTENDING THE ROTARY CUP GAME

10. Include the whole family, and to bring along their son or daughter's best friend, too.
9. Arrive early, not just to beat the expected long lines at the ticket window as kickoff nears, but also to stake out a preferred seat in the stands. 
8. Bring some form of cushioning to sit on, as the metal bleachers are as hard as they are cold. 
7. Skip dinner before coming to the stadium, knowing that Boosters will be grilling burgers, hot dogs, and Philly cheese steaks for a reasonable price.
6. Save room in their tummies for the Best Popcorn In Wesco, sold at the concession stand.
5. Stay in their seats at halftime, as local photographer Brock Mason will be shooting shooting a group photo, available for purchase and suitable for framing.
4. Wear the colors of their favorite team (green and gold for Shorecrest - blue and silver for Shorewood).
3. Record the game on their DVR's, as it's being televised by the Live Video Production Club of the two schools on Ch. 26.
2. Take a look around sometime during the night and realize they are a part of the single biggest gathering of the year in Shoreline/Lake Forest Park.
1. Watch the action on the field intently and remember what it was like to be in high school on the one Friday night of the year when you played your biggest rival, and how nothing else in the world mattered anywhere close to how much winning this one game did.


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Frank Workman on Sports: Sometimes something magical happens

Sunday, September 16, 2012

By Frank Workman


Late in the day at work on Friday, a co-worker asked what I had in store for my weekend.  I explained I’d be going to the Friday night high school football game between visiting Marysville-Getchell and Shorewood.

She replied that she has never  ‘gotten’  sports – that it all seems so senseless, making such a big deal out of playing a game.

I responded that for me the charm and appeal of sports, especially at the high school level, rests in the fact that for the kids who are playing, nothing in their lives will ever be this important, or matter as much to them, at least until they have children of their own.

And, I said, sometimes something magical happens  that you never forget.

I was looking forward to being on the ‘chain-gang’ for the game.  I’d be holding a first-down marker on the far sideline, fully expecting to be on the same side of the field as Shorewood, which would give me a perfect opportunity to watch their passionate and patient coach Rob Petschl up close, as well as better acquaint myself with the boys on the team.

There was an ounce of disappointment when I realized Shorewood had opted to occupy the near sideline, meaning the chain gang would be on the M-G side of the field.

Funny how things work out.

Getchell is the new school in Marysville; this is just its second year in existence.

When it looked like they would take a 9-0 lead into the locker room at halftime, I asked one of their coaches if they had won any games last year.

He shook his head no.

The Chargers’ players were fired up when they took the field for the start of the second half.  It’s not every night you get to win the first game in school history.

Their defense was stout through the third quarter.

The T-Birds clawed their way back, scoring a touchdown early in the fourth quarter to make it 9-7.  Very much anybody’s ball game. Later, when they got the ball back with just under 5 minutes to play and hit a long pass inside the Chargers’ 30, it looked like Shorewood was going to break the Chargers’ hearts.

But Kaleb Seymer intercepted a pass for the Chargers and took it 70 yards to the house. The PAT gave Getchell the insurance point it needed to make it a two-score game, 16-7.

Pure jubilation was evident on every young face on the sideline, and the wide smiles were contagious.  It was impossible to not be happy for them.

It was magical. And I will never forget it.

And THAT is what I love about high school sports.


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Frank Workman on Sports: the nip of fall in the air means that football is coming

Monday, August 27, 2012

Tom Baumann and Frank invite you to join them this Friday night when the Shorecrest Scots host Lynnwood in the season opener. Shoreline Stadium, 18560 1st Avenue NE, Shoreline 98155.

By Frank Workman

The two men met at the local High School stadium this past Friday night.

7pm sharp, exactly one week before the first football game of the new season.

They love High School sports, and they couldn’t wait for the new year to begin.

Between the two of them, they’ve been to the stadium hundreds of time for games.

A few of the games involved their own sons playing, but most of them have involved watching other parents’ sons and daughters compete.

The two --- both in their sixties --- one retired, the other still a working stiff --- were as full of hope and anticipation for the new season as a couple of kids gathered by the tree a few nights before Christmas.

Sitting in the bleachers near the fifty-yard line, they saw that the field below was covered in the grandstand’s long shadow. Other than a jogger and two couples getting their evening walk in around the track, they had the place to themselves.

They could feel fall’s first nip in the air. The calendar said August 24, but in a way it felt like October.

They began to talk about the football season ahead.

What are the team’s chances this season? Who might replace the star quarterback of the last three seasons? Will the youngest of three brothers who have played for the school perform as valiantly in this, his senior year, as his older brothers did?

The conversation shifted to the Girls Soccer team, coached by a dear friend to both of them. The infusion of four talented freshmen, coupled with a talented core group of older veterans, and a lanky athletic goal-keeper with the wingspan of a pterodactyl, could make for a special season for a program that always has lofty aspirations. Given the fact that the area has produced two of the greatest women soccer players in history, it’s obvious that even the loftiest dreams can come true for these young players.

The two reminisced about their own youthful days at play, and their very modest athletic ‘careers’. Most of their playing was done on the school grounds, at recess, and in front yards and vacant lots in their home towns. Football plays drawn up in the dirt (“everybody go long”); Wiffle-Ball contests (where the players doubled as play-by-play men); hauling a neighbor’s extra sawdust into a pile to serve as a high-jump pit (when the scissors-kick was the standard jumping style, and landing on one’s feet was always the goal – sawdust having a way of finding its way into terrible places should one fall in it).

One of them men recalled an early practice in high school when, as a freshman, his older teammates suggested he turn down his effort a notch, that he was making the rest of the guys look bad.

They talked about how teams take on certain personalities, and how they had observed instances where the best player on a team was the hardest worker, leaving his teammates to have to match him in their efforts. Those teams almost always over-achieved. Conversely, they had seen teams where a star player may have taken his/her talent for granted, set a bad example, and the team suffered for it. They agreed that while the coach can have an influence on a team, especially during the season, it’s on the players to put in the necessary work in the off-season.

A few more topics followed – their Bucket List of HS stadiums they’ve not yet been to - a couple early-season big games they’re looking forward to – the inspiring performances from the recent Olympic Games by America’s women athletes – and how much better off our world is, and will continue to be, because women are now able to participate in sports (unlike the girls we grew up with, in the pre-Title IX days).

Too soon it was getting late. Long past dark, the stadium’s lights a week away from being turned on, the two made their way to the parking lot.

They didn’t watch a game, hear the band, see old friends, or eat the stadium’s great popcorn.

But they could still feel the excitement in the air. It’s coming.

Next Friday will be different.


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Frank Workman on Sports: A high school senior's letter to Mom and Dad

Saturday, August 18, 2012


Frank Workman is not a high school senior. He is a long-time participant and observer of high school sports, most recently volunteering with the video clubs as the announcer for local high school games.

A high school senior's letter to Mom and Dad
By Frank Workman

Dear Mom and Dad –

You know how you like to write me a letter before my sports seasons begin, offering me encouragement, advice and good wishes? 

This season I want to turn the tables and write a letter to you, especially since this is my senior year, and likely to be my last time playing organized sports.

I know there have been times before, during, or after my games when you’ve said or done something that has annoyed me. I realize you’ve meant no harm, but I want to spell things out for you so the memories we’ll take from this last year of my playing ball will be good ones.

First, I want to thank you for respecting my wishes by letting me play football, basketball, and baseball, and not making me specialize in just one sport.

The money you spent for me to play on various Select teams wasn’t some sort of guaranty that I’d ever become good enough to play college ball. What my Select ball experience did was improve my skills and help keep me on the right track, instead of drifting off doing who-knows-what with my idle time. I am only guaranteed a chance to play when it comes to high school ball – nothing more.

Look, I know deep down that I’m not going to get an athletic scholarship to college. I’m a good athlete, but I am not the elite, almost freakish one that gets a free ride. I’ve learned something about genetics in Biology class, and I got your genes, which explains why I’m not 6’10”, or 275 pounds, or run the hundred in ten-flat. So don’t blame me for not playing at the next level – look in the mirror. Just kidding. I wouldn’t change a thing about me – or you.

I need you to understand that it’s not just me who gets to have a sports season. But the sports season the two of you get to have is going to be an entirely different one from mine.

I’ll be learning life lessons in the “non-traditional classroom” that high school sports represent. I’ll be learning what dedication and commitment are, not just by playing the games, but by working hard in practice, testing my courage, running until my lungs feel like they could burst, dealing with the hurts and pains that come from sore muscles, bruised bones and scraped knees. By finding out how much I can care about something, how much I’m willing to do beyond what I think is possible in order to help our team be successful, how much I’m willing to sacrifice myself for the good of the team, I’m going to be learning important things about life.

I’m also going to experience the fun times, too, times that you can’t be any part of, like the ten minutes in the locker room right before a game, and the ten minutes in the locker room after a game, regardless of if we won or lost, happy or sad – or the bus rides to and from games, and the silly times in the dugout or locker room when I’m just having fun with my friends, still just being a kid.

This goes without saying ---

While this has never been a problem with you in the past, if for some reason you indulge in adult beverages before one of my games and think it would be a good idea to show up and be loud, abusive, possibly even vulgar - DON’T.  EVER. That sort of behavior from you would embarrass me to death, and would become your signature moment, to be remembered forever. And should one of the other parents come to a game in that condition, do everybody a favor and quietly suggest to them that they leave. Or better still, discreetly talk to one of the school’s administrators who are at the game, and let them handle the situation.

I want you to get the other parents on the team to sit together at our games. 

You and the other parents get to have fun, too, as you band together and root for us all season.  It’s sort of like getting on a ride at Disneyland, with all the ups and downs, thrills and spills. 

Here’s a golden opportunity for a couple old fogies like you to make some new friends, and when was the last time that happened? I’m not saying you have to sit next to that blowhard who is always bragging about his life, who distracts you from the game you’re intently watching – avoiding getting stuck sitting next to him is going to have to be a new move you’ll have to work on this year, I guess. I’d like you to seek out the parents of the new kids on the team, the ones who don’t really know any of the other parents yet, and bring them into the fold. You’re always telling me how some of my high school buddies are going to be my friends for life. Maybe the same can be said for you about other parents on the team. Who knows, maybe you’ll find your next best friends at my games this season.

This year, I want to hear you cheering for my teammates, too, and calling them by name, not just me.

I’d really like it if you went out of your way to get to know some of the other guys on the team. I am not the only story on the team. Every player has his own story worth being aware of. Unlike the college or pro teams in town who you can only cheer for from a distance, you can actually meet and get to know the kids I play with. The more kids you know on the team, and the more you know about them, the more you will enjoy watching us play.

I know you like to root for me at my games. I can hear your voice every time you do – I’ve been trained all my life to listen for it. But I also want you to cheer for my team and teammates so much that a stranger in the gym can’t tell that we have the same last name. With any luck, the other parents will get the hint and root for all of us, not just their own kids.

They’re just our opponents – they’re not our enemies.

It’s also OK with me if you acknowledge a good play or effort by an opponent. You know, those kids are just like me, they just live in a different town than we do. They care about the sport we love, they probably like the same music and movies that we do, and there’s not much difference between them and us, other than the color of the shirt they’re wearing that particular night. At the end of each game, we show them respect by going through the handshake line with them. I want you to show them respect, too.

Just because the call wasn’t in our favor doesn’t mean it was a bad call.

And while I’m on the topic of showing respect, I want you to be respectful to the game officials. I know there are times when we all disagree with their calls, or are at least disappointed when one doesn’t go our way. 

It’s OK to disagree with them, but don’t be disrespectful. They are the game’s authority figures, and since you’re always telling me to respect authority, I expect you to do the same.

Besides, those guys are right most of the time, and they almost always know our rules better than anybody up in the stands does, especially since the rules can be different for high school, college and pro ball.

The team comes first. Not me. Not any one single player. Certainly not you or any of the other parents.

Our coaches do a great job of instilling in us team values, to put aside any selfishness we may feel in favor of support for our common effort. If any of us are unhappy about our playing time, the position we’re playing, or the way we’re being treated, he wants us to come to him and talk with him about it. All of us are OK with this arrangement. Most of the time, the guys who are second-string understand that the guys ahead of them are better than they are. Our coaches work really hard to nip any jealousies or disagreements in the bud.

The most important thing for us when we’re on a team is …… The Team. 

When comments are made by outsiders (parents, particularly) that are critical of us or the coaches, they tear at the very fabric of the team. The louder they are, the more they damage the sense of unity and togetherness we’re trying to establish. 

Instead of thinking about the next play or the next game, we wind up spending time dealing with stuff that takes our eye off the ball, so to speak.

But our coaches know more about the game than you do, I’ll bet. When a play doesn’t work, they know – right then- who it was that caused the play to fail, as opposed to the fans in the stands who only know that the play didn’t work.

The coach has earned the right to fill out the line-up card - to decide who plays where, when, and what plays we run.

My head coach probably spends 750-1000 hours a year on his sport, between planning practices, watching game films, game-planning for each week’s opponent, running practices, and actually coaching the games, not to mention attending coaching clinics, dealing with the paperwork side of coaching, and keeping in touch with us players all year round. He spends more waking hours during the season with us than his own family. Fact is, I see more of him each week than I do you during the season. On top of that, you might know only 5 or 10  of the kids on the team. Coach knows each and every one of us. He cares about us, not just as players, but as people. 

Just because you disagree with the coach, doesn’t mean he’s an idiot.

Dad, I know how much you love sports, and how much you think you know about them from having played when you were young, and from watching games week after week, year after year. You know a little about a lot of sports. My coach is the world’s greatest expert on the subject of my team.

Just remember that there are three things every guy thinks he can do better than anybody else – build a campfire, grill a steak, and manage a ballclub. There’s an old saying – ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’. There are bound to be times when you disagree with something he does. When that happens, keep it to yourself, please.

I hope you’ll get to know my coach.

If you want to have a relationship with my coach, make sure it’s a non-critical, supportive one. Thank him after the games for his hard work, be appreciative of all he does and be thankful (as I am) that we have him on our side.  And while you’re at it, be a friend and supporter of his wife, too.  She comes to all the games and roots harder (if only to herself), and cares about it more than you do. While all you parents have a son on the team, she has fifty of us. She hears every comment that gets made up in the stands, and somehow manages to keep her cool when somebody up there says something critical or stupid about the team or her husband. When the game is over and you’re on your way home, the game may not even be on your mind by the time you pull into the garage. I’m sure Coach’s wife lives with the outcomes (especially the losses) a lot longer than any of you parents do.

I know you’ve always told me that my schoolwork is more important than sports. I guess that means that if you’re going to get to know my coach, you better get to know all my teachers this year, too.  I want both of you to come to Back To School Night and meet my teachers, maybe shoot them an email afterwards. 

As you would no sooner try to tell my English teacher how to conduct her class or criticize her in public, the same probably should be said about your demeanor toward my coaches.

If you want to analyze and re-hash the game in-depth,  I’ll do it with you, but won’t it keep until the next morning?

When the game is over, don’t expect me to be all chatty and happy to talk with you, at least not right away. Games are physically, mentally, and emotionally draining for me, for you, for all of us. Everybody’s nerves might be raw and on edge right after a game.  Sure, I’ll take your hugs, win or lose, as will my teammates.  But give me some time to decompress, to think through what just happened out there and what the coaches had to say afterwards before you start peppering me with all sorts of ‘what happened?’ questions.  And don’t ask me to violate the sanctity of the locker room. What gets said in there stays in there – sort of like going to Las Vegas. 

Look, if all you want to know right after the game is what was so funny in the third quarter that all of us on the bench started laughing, I’ll tell you all about it.

Playing in games with my buddies, in front of our fellow students with all you moms and dads watching and cheering us on; it might just be the most fun I’ll get to have in my whole life.

I know we’ve talked in the past about what it’s like for me to be playing during the pressure situations that can develop during the games, and how your stomachs get twisted into a knot, and how mom sometimes has to hide her eyes.

But from my perspective, I’m so busy playing, so locked in and focused on what I’m doing, that I don’t have time to think about the consequences of failure, of what happens if I drop the pass, or miss the shot, or strike out.

What you call ‘pressure’ is, for me, pure fun.

Everybody’s always saying how playing sports builds character. You’ve told me that yourself on several occasions.

My coach says that while it’s true, there is a greater truth to be said about sports.

He says ‘sports reveals character’.

As my last year of playing sports begins soon, I hope that the character I reveal will make you proud of me. 

And I hope that I’ll be proud of you.

I have to go now. First practice of the season is in the morning.

Here’s to a great season. 

For you.

Love,
Your Child


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Frank Workman on Sports: I don't need the calendar to tell me it's August

Sunday, August 12, 2012

By Frank Workman

I don't need the calendar to tell me that it's August. The sight of so many teenagers running in the neighborhood, getting in shape for their fall sport, is a tell-tale first sign of fall, as chirping birds are to spring.

I'm not sure which high school sports season I enjoy most. I love a crisp Friday night (under cover) watching football. A warm gym on a winter's night watching hoops (sitting on a soft cushion) with friends always works for me. And you sure can't beat the rare warm spring day at a baseball game or the three-ring circus that is a track meet.

I have come to enjoy each game I attend as simply that --a game. It's simply a form of entertainment, a learning experience and confidence-and-character builder for the kids, and not a battle of us-against-them, good versus evil, or some kid's big chance at a college scholarship that I see others in attendance try to make it out to be.

I have to admit my perspective has evolved from when my son played. It began to change one summer when he was still in high school.

His summer baseball team had a weekend tournament back in Pullman. I offered to transport (along with my son) two other boys on the team, one of them the son of the coach of the cross-town rival (whose teams regularly won every game in the rivalry). It didn't take long before the barbs about each other's school were flying, and by the time we'd made it to Ellensburg the talk grew more heated. Wishing to be a gracious guest, but not wanting to let my son have the last say in their war of words, the coach's son used the ultimate weapon, that certain ten-letter word that ended all the trash-talk for the weekend - ‘Scoreboard'.

For the remainder of the weekend, I saw the coach's son in a different light.

Here was a polite and respectful young man. He was as dedicated to playing the game the right way as every other boy on the team was. He was committed to the ideals of team play and hard work. I knew his dad loved the game every bit as much as I did.

And it occurred to me that the only real difference between him and my son was which side of town they lived, and the school they attended.

Then I began to think of the similarities between them.

The boys liked many of the same things ---the same foods, the same subjects in school, the same movies and TV shows. They spent downtime that weekend playing video games with each other.

They both had parents who were deeply involved in their upbringing and instilled similar core values in them.

The boys were from, essentially, the same community, the same state and same country, as well.

Now when I watch high school athletes perform this, rather than seeing enemy combatants vying to determine which of them represents some higher form of human superiority, I see players with hundreds of similarities for every actual difference between them.

And I will be grateful to all of them for entertaining so many of us with their effort.

Find previous articles by Frank Workman by going to our main webpage, scrolling down the first column to the "Features" section and clicking on "Frank Workman."


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Frank Workman on Sports: Little Slugger

Monday, July 30, 2012

By Frank Workman


I was driving home from an appointment on a Saturday afternoon a few years ago, and decided to swing by the local Little League field to see who was playing.

The two big diamonds were empty, but the two smaller diamonds had games going on. Younger kids, our local league's 8- and 9-year-olds, were playing, and given that it was early June, I knew it must be playoffs.

I parked my car and got out. Judging by the intensity of the fans, the game to my right was at critical mass.

The bases were loaded. I heard a fan on the side of the team in the field holler, "Just one more out!"

Up to the plate marched a Little Slugger. From the reaction of the fans behind the Little Slugger's bench, big things were expected from him, and he delivered. His high fly to left center fell untouched and all the runners scooted around the bases and scored. The Little Slugger beamed as he stood on second base.

On the next pitch, the Little Slugger took off for third. The throw from the catcher easily had him beat, so he retreated to second base, only to be tagged out by the second baseman on a good throw from third.

Game over.

Season over for the losing team.

I didn't notice the celebration going on by the winners. My eyes were fixed on the Little Slugger as he trudged to his bench, crying his eyes out.

When it was time for the teams to shake hands the Little Slugger couldn't bring himself to go through the "good-game" line, he was so disconsolate.

His coaches tried to encourage him to join in, but he couldn't. They even tried to lift him up, as if to give him the strength to proceed, but his body went limp like a sack of potatoes. I even walked over in hopes to cheer the lad up, and he damn near got me to crying, he was so distraught.

I headed over to check out the other game. It ended uneventfully.

About 15 minutes later, as I headed back to my car to leave, I noticed an impromptu game going on at the same spot where the first two teams had played. By my count, there were 10 kids, no parents, and evidently, no bats or balls. The pitcher wound up and threw an imaginary ball to the batter, who swung mightily at it (with his imaginary bat), and proceeded to circle the bases.

When he reached home, his teammates were all there to greet him with high-fives and smiles.

It was the Little Slugger. He had healed quickly.

The pages of this newspaper have done a good job throughout the school year detailing the exploits of young players in our area.

For some, their seasons ended in triumph, crowned as champions. For many more, their seasons (and for some, their careers) ended less gloriously, some with a called strike three, or a missed bucket at the buzzer, or the clang of a penalty kick bouncing off the goal post.

For those whose season failed to finish with a storybook ending, here's hoping you remember (and are remembered for) your effort and your successes.

And here's hoping you all heal as quickly as the Little Slugger did.


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Frank Workman on Sports: High school sports - lessons learned and taught every day

Sunday, June 24, 2012

By Frank Workman

It’s been a full month since the last High School games were played and championships contested,and already I find myself itching to get back out to watch another year’s action.

I love High School sports, and I get out and see between 60 and 70 games a year. When you throw in some high school plays and jazz concerts, the number of events I attend grows by 5-10.

Compared to their professional or collegiate counterparts, sure, the level of athletic performance is nowhere near as high.

Yet the passion and commitment shown by the players at the high school level take a back seat to no one.

And while the HS ranks can have the occasional controversy (usually when the adults involved try to muck up the works), it for the most part maintains a degree of purity that is close to 99.44%.

Compare that to what we read every day about cheating scandals and money squabbles in both the college and pro ranks, and the HS brand of ball, regardless of the sport, comes up smelling like a rose.

At the HS level, it’s understood by coaches and players that representing one’s school is a privilege, not a right, and the privilege can be revoked should there be a dip in grades or other unacceptable behavior. 

When players’ britches get a little too big for their own good, they are usually given the opportunity to watch the game from the sidelines until they fit better.

High school sports are an extension of the classroom, played out in public, where lessons are taught and learned every day. 

Unlike the classroom, where the lessons are taught first, then the test taken; sports gives you the test first, with lessons to be learned from it afterwards.

And all the while, as these lessons are being taught and learned, we get to sit in the stands and watch the drama of athletic competition unfold before our eyes, watching our favorite sports being played by athletes, our neighbors, who throw their heart and soul into every minute of play.

The athletes are approachable after the games. Grade school kids, some with stars in their eyes, can meet the players, and lifelong friendships can be struck. 

Try doing that with the members of your local college or pro team.

High school sports are where we get to watch great people begin to take shape – not to mention the next All-American, All-Pro, or even Hall of Famer.

Yes, I will enjoy the warmth of the summer sun, if not the heat of a pennant race for the next few months.

But until I get to see and hear a toe kick a football on a warm Friday night next September, things won’t be quite right with the world.

And there’s only ten more Friday nights to go!


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Alums return for one last game in the old Shorecrest gym

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Fans watch their last basketball game in the old gym
Photo by Jerry Pickard


Shorecrest's aging facilities, including the gym, are being demolished to make way for a new school and gym.


By Frank Workman

They wanted to come home.  They wanted to come back. They wanted to be together, to play together, one more time.  One more time in the old gym before it gets torn down and a new gym tries to take its place.

Saturday night at Shorecrest, two final games were played in the only gym the school has ever known. There would be games featuring male and female alums and both of this year’s varsity teams.

It was a grand celebration of basketball, friendship, camaraderie, and of being a Scot for life.  Food was donated, burgers were grilled, donations were accepted, and the Best Popcorn In Wesco was enjoyed.

Laughter, cheers, and tears rattled the rafters one last time.

Coach Dori Monson with Shorecrest Girls
Photo by Jerry Pickard

It was ladies first, as a team of alumnae took the court to oppose the Girls Varsity team, the Dori Monson-coached team that took 4th Place in State this year.

Commissioned to coach the Alumnae on the other bench was Henry Akin, from the first SuperSonics team, a longtime LFP resident and SC girls hoops fan (and unofficial coach) for more than twenty years.

Watching his team warming up before the game, it was evident to Akin that it had been quite some time since several of his players had touched a basketball. And for some, not only were their pasts behind them, their behinds were behind them, as well.

But the alumnae had recruited enough good players from their past to field a competitive team.

Girls game in play
Photo by Jerry Pickard

Kristy Eggen, from the Class of ’94, proved to be just the take-charge sparkplug that a thrown-together team like this needed.  Now a Clinical Therapist at a psychiatric hospital, her 15 points led the game’s scoring, and her single-handed break of the Scots’ full-court press in the second half was the stuff of dreams.

Jocelyn Riordan, Class of ’08, just graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Puget Sound, where she finished as the school’s 7th all-time scoring leader for the Lady Logger basketball team. Her contribution of 9 points paled in comparison to the court smarts she showed.

Adrienne Moore, Class of ’01, was a member of the Scots’  State Championship softball team, and was named by the Seattle Times as their Female Athlete of the Year. Her athleticism showed through the rust, and she graciously expressed admiration for India Matheson and Oniye Chibuogwu, who she was stuck with guarding for most of the game.

Rachel Schrote, who just graduated from SC last spring, suited up to the delight of all.  Her absence from the team last year (to a devastating knee injury during the fall soccer season) undoubtedly cost her team a berth at State during her senior year.

Lisa Magnusson, ’05, now a teacher in the Shoreline SD, hit three 3-pointers, including two in the second half, to help keep the young Scots at bay.

Opening toss in the men's game
Photo by Jerry Pickard

The game’s final outcome (a 51-47 win for the old gals) is of little consequence in the scheme of things (as was the Mens’  5-point win over the boys varsity team in the nightcap).

What matters is that the players cared enough to come back, to make one last trip to the gym, to soak in its sights and sounds and smells, and to recall the memories the building evoked, and the way that the part of their lives that was spent in that building helped shape who they are becoming.

After both games, players teams shook hands, hugged, and got their pictures taken together, commemorating an unforgettable night. 

A night when they were all Scots, and when they got to play one last game in a building that had meant so much to so many.



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