Painful football memories

The disgraceful and embarrassing details of how a "scruffy ragtag" Whitefish Bulldog football team once defeated the "smooth and powerful" Flathead Braves of Kalispell, was the subject of one of these columns sometime back. It was not easy for this writer to recall that agonizing night, now sixty years past. To make matters worse, the distressing game was played on our (the Braves) home field.

Have also recalled the game that year when we had a tough time beating the defending Western Class B Champion Columbia Falls Wildcats, 18 to 0. I got in for one play and was ambushed in the backfield and stomped into the turf by two of those Gireaux boys, who were much bigger than I. There is no use trying to conceal it, 1945 was not a good year for the Braves . . . and a worse year for me.

Now to make memories even more painful, a friend has found and given me the old program from a Missoula Spartans-Flathead Braves game in Missoula. It was a night game, played in the University of Montana's Dornblaser Field, Friday, September 21, 1945.

I remember it well. There is no way to forget it. Thousands of screaming fans from Missoula were there and eight from Kalispell. The Braves had 24 of us in uniform and the Spartans had 36. They were the state champions and had not lost a game the year before.

Boy! Was that a fun night.

Things got so bad in the third quarter, our coach Rip Wilson became unbelievably desperate and went out of his mind. He came storming down the bench and said, "Ostrom! Go in for Kirk."

In those days, Flathead played a Single Wing offense. Some of the plays involved a "pulling guard" where the guard pulled out of the line and either decoyed the defensive end or defensive back on one side while the play went the other way, or he pulled out and blocked for whatever running back was carrying the ball. The program I have lists Ostrom as a guard, and that is correct. What it does not say is that Ostrom weighed 132 pounds and had only been in on one play of actual football in his life.

Now it was my night to make football history, save my team from massacre, and bring honor to the Flathead Braves. I grabbed my helmet and leaped up from the bench, a small quivering bundle of skin and bones, ill-fitting pads, and great expectations.

There were catcalls from the loud-mouthed Missoula fans behind our bench. "Who is Ostrom?" "Oh look! They're sending in the water boy." "Say your prayers Ostrom. You'll be coming back on a stretcher."

Running onto the field, I angrily slammed on the old hard leather helmet. Unfortunately I had it backwards and the lower neck-protecting seam almost broke my nose. There were tears in my eyes and my nose started bleeding. Mercifully, I don't remember much of what happened after that, except I did not get hauled off on a stretcher.

One thing puzzles me. That old program from the big game does not list a uniform number for Ostrom, just the name and position.

You don't suppose I made football history at Dornblaser Field playing in my bib overalls?

*(Postscript) The Missoula Spartans won the state Championship again in 1945, BUT waiting for the championship game, they came up to Kalispell and we played them on our field. They did beat us, but it was no "gimme" and I like to think their famed coach, Eddy Chinske, was thankful Coach Wilson did not again send Ostrom in against them.