Savage Words: Deep reflection for a high school athlete

I always had a fascination with the Indiana state high school basketball tournament. 

It’s likely because my family is from central Indiana, and growing up in Sioux Falls, we visited my grandparents in Muncie, just north of Indianapolis, every summer.

Until 1997, there was only one basketball class in Indiana. They were the last state to finally give in and chop the state up into different classes according to school size. It makes sense, I guess, but what a magical time the state high school basketball tournament was in Indiana prior to that.

In 1954, the tiny school of Milan (enrollment 161) defeated Muncie Central (enrollment of more than 1,600) to win the title. The game was made into the 1986 movie Hoosiers. You’ve likely seen it.

So when I worked for the NBA’s Indiana Pacers and WNBA’s Fever several years later, I was thrilled when I was asked to help work the state high school championship games that took place at our home court in downtown Indianapolis. It was 2002, and by then, Indiana had obviously split into four state tournaments to accommodate the four classes.

It wasn’t the same because the four classes diluted the magic a bit, but still, pretty cool.

I sat through four games on a Saturday afternoon and watched Gary West defeat Pike in 4A, Delta defeat Harding in 3A, Speedway defeat Bluffton in 2A, and Rossville defeat Barr-Reeve in A.

I recall sitting at the scorer’s table after the final buzzer sounded on one of the early games. I sat there, watched the trophy presentation, the hugs, the cheers, the tears. The teams slowly made their way off the floor and into the waiting locker rooms. 

I leaned over to a colleague, and pointed to some of the players who were beginning their post-game shuffle to the locker room.

“Those kids should stay out there as long as they can,” I said. “Don’t leave the court. Soak this stuff in as long as you can.”

I watched them closely, and although it was 22 years ago, I still remember those kids. I remember thinking that they’re all going to go into the locker room, and some of them are going to take off their basketball jerseys for the final time.

I almost wanted to go out on the court, hold them back a bit, and tell them, “Keep that jersey on as long as you can. It’s coming off soon…for the final time.” 

At 17 and 18 years of age, they weren’t thinking about that, and I get it. The sad ones were ready to turn the page and get out of there. The happy ones were ready to go celebrate with friends and family.

Those kids are 40 now. I have no doubt they still think of that day, March 23, 2002. I hope they kept their jerseys on until the absolute last moment. I didn’t know any of them personally, but I do think of that moment often.

I’ve never seen a high school kid reflect on things like that, ever. I’ve seen tears and cheers, but never a deep reflection of life unfolding in front of them.

That was until this fall. 

After the Brandon Valley football team defeated Harrisburg on Oct. 18, I saw junior lineman Elijah Schunke sitting by himself under one of the goalposts. It was well after the game clock hit 0:00, well after most of the players had already gone to the locker room, well after most of the fans were out of the grandstands and into their cars.

It got my attention. He was clearly soaking it all in.

I asked him what he was up to.

“Just thinking this is probably my last season in football,” he said in reference to his commitment to the wrestling mat for his senior year in 2024-25. “I think about what I could have done differently, or I think about how (big brother) Navarro would have done it.”

He does the same thing after every home game. That’s some heavy reflection for a high school junior. And it’s cool. No doubt he’ll never forget it. 

I was never fortunate enough to play high school football. But I can appreciate what those kids do, and it aches when I see it end, no matter the sport.

After all, one day we all went outside to play with our friends for the last time, and none of us knew.