Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
Maybe it’s the approach of another winter. Maybe it was a research trip to Lusk to tour a section of the Cheyenne to Deadwood Trail with the highlight, a trip across the spectacular property at Red Bird, of my friends Jim and Debbie Meng. Maybe I’m just getting a little long in the tooth.
Lusk has changed, not good, not bad, just different.
As a college senior, I interviewed for the social studies position, with assistant football and head track coaching duties.
I had friends from Lusk, but had never been there. I drove north from Laramie to Bosler, east through Sybille Canyon, then caught I-25 just outside Wheatland. I turned for the first of perhaps 300 times at Orin Junction and Lusk was 42 miles east. I spotted the water tower at Manville, thinking my odometer was off, but I still had nine miles before descending the hill to the west into the little valley of the sometimes flowing Niobrara River.
It was a perfect fit.
Things were different across the nation 45 years ago. The cell phone was far in the future, and a land line was a necessity if you wanted to go beyond a few miles from your location.
It wasn’t a simple, remote click of the mouse to turn a circuit on in those days. I put in for a phone line to my apartment, and it took a little over three weeks before it was connected.
The wiring had been in place for a long time, but the process of identifying and labeling circuits took a while in the age of analog phone service.
Throughout the two week football pre-season, and into my first 10 days in the classroom, I walked four blocks to use the pay phone that was located near the corner of U.S. Highway 85 as it stretched from Denver to Deadwood, and my favorite highway in all of the United States, U.S. 20 as it stretches from Valentine, Nebraska to Lusk.
There’s something magical about this 220-mile run across the Sand Hills, but I digress.
I arrived in Lusk on a Sunday afternoon. I quit my job at Alder Construction just two days before. My parents mailed me my final check the following week.
I checked in with Dave Hamaker, a science teacher and my landlord in the four-plex he owned just 100 yards east of the high school.
Before I left the farm between Kinnear and Pavillion, I called head coach Jerry Fullmer to check on practice time, duration, and my responsibilities. Jerry invited me to a party for the guy I was replacing.
Little did I know when I arrived at the party that these strangers would become my friends, mentors, and build a lifetime of stories.
Jerry told me to report to the gym at 6 a.m., the boys would arrive at 6:30. We’d had a few two-a-day practices in the pre-season at Wind River, but they were sporadic and poorly attended. This was real football. Jerry had a well-designed schedule, drills complementary to our offense and defense, and a general dislike of the forward pass.
My coaching experience to date before that Monday morning session consisted of four practices with the sophomore girls’ flag football team during my student-teaching days at Cheyenne Central.
We beat the junior girls in the opening round of the Homecoming Powder Puff championships, then fell to the senior girls in the championship game.
I had a favorite play already, a wide slotback counter, a reverse in the old vernacular. It was my bread and butter play for the next three decades.
We had a quick little girl, Maria Hernandez. She was about 4-10, fast and tough, a perfect slotback. She scored three times against the junior girls running to the wide side of the field, and once against the senior girls, who simply overpowered my sophomores.
Jump ahead a few years to Niobrara County, and I lobbied Jerry to include this play in our I-formation and split-back sets. I think he may have already had it in the playbook, but he humored me, and over the next few years, Tony Gladson and Tye Reed picked up huge chunks of yardage on the play.
Just run a few sweeps toward the slot side, read the defensive end on the off-play side, and if he gets lazy and starts a beeline towards the quarterback, run it straight at him.
Over the course of 30+ years coaching football, I’ll warrant that my teams scored over 100 breakaway touchdowns on this play.
That play was in the future on that opening day of practice.
Jerry gave me the linemen and let me coach the defense, all under his watchful eye.
I learned a lot about football from Jerry Fullmer; I’d add Harold Bailey and Chuck Wells to that education as well. They ran different sets, had different philosophies, but they were outstanding tacticians, role models, and excellent mentors to a young coach just learning the game.
Learning started with the first drill. I had about 15 linemen. We had a combination conditioning/technique drill with ropes, blocking dummies, pulling guards, trap plays and double teams, all run on my hand gestures at the whistle.
Lusk is hot in August, even at 6:30 or 7 in the morning.
I had these guys wheezing, sweating, and miserable within a few minutes. To keep them going, I told them we’d get a water break when Jerry blew the whistle to switch stations.
The whistle blew. The boys jumped at the two six-bottle trays of quart-sized water bottles. Jerry lost his mind when he saw me giving the guys water. He sprinted over, grabbed the bottles, dumped the water on the field, and ripped into me and the boys. It was something along the lines of “Water makes you weak.”
I’d had the same experience as a player just five years before and vowed that my guys would get frequent water breaks. That would come later. But who was I to argue with one of the state’s greatest coaches?
The drills continued. We didn’t scrimmage until the second week, but when we came together, backs, receivers, and linemen, it was cohesive from the start. Jerry’s planning melded everything into one well-oiled machine.
I tried to follow those guidelines throughout my coaching career.
After the evening practice, I called home and told my dad all about it. I was a high school football coach.
Those were marvelous days, filled with excitement, new people, new experiences, and the wide-eyed optimism that only a young man can possess.
Lusk will always hold a special place in my heart. I admire this little town, its resilience, its pride, and the legacy it has established.
If there was a better place for a teacher and coach to begin their career, I haven’t heard of it.
Go Tigers!