High School Sports
Big dreams start small

By Matt Peterson
Seattle Times staff reporter

ROD MAR / THE SEATTLE TIMES The Lummi Blackhawks, in black, take on Taholah at Sandman Field, built in the backyard of Jim and Tami Sandusky's home in Ferndale.

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FERNDALE — The field lies on the outskirts of town, near the corner of Mountain View Road and Ronnie Hill Lane, on an old patch of pastureland that once was Jim Sandusky's backyard.

The locals call it Sandman Field, in honor of the man who built it. But you wouldn't know it from looking. There aren't any signs to be found.

"It's on the left," Sandusky says. "You should see it from the road."

There's no telling how many people have driven past this place, paused and turned their heads for a second look. It's the strangest thing, those blocky goalposts rising from nowhere, that concession-stand trailer parked near the road, those aluminum bleachers within view of the neighbors.

But this is what happens when people dare to dream big. Jim Sandusky did. And what started as his personal community-service project has turned into so much more.

The first rays of afternoon sunshine have begun to pierce a stubborn morning fog as Sandusky steers his 1995 Ford Ranger down a country road that leads to the Lummi Indian Reservation southwest of Ferndale. It's nearly lunchtime on a recent Saturday, and the bed of his truck is loaded with food. There's a large pot of spaghetti, prepared the night before, a couple boxes of store-bought chicken and several jugs of orange juice.

He has been up since the crack of dawn, tending to the endless game-day duties associated with his roles as Lummi's head football coach, athletic director, groundskeeper and cook.

Already this morning, he has mixed the team's Gatorade, stocked the concession stand, spread 50 pounds of grass seed, hauled the battery-operated scoreboard up to the house for charging, sewn wrist straps on several pairs of specialty football gloves and tried unsuccessfully to view a videotape of this afternoon's opponent, Taholah.

"Be ready to run around," he has warned. "It can get pretty hectic."

It has been two years since Sandusky took over the Class B-8 Lummi program, two years of constant toil and consistent improvement, two years that have seen the Blackhawks rise from mediocrity to respectability. The hours have been long, the work hard, the pace furious. But he does not appear weary. He is building something here, and seems energized by the challenge.

"I think it's healthy to stay this busy for him," says his wife, Tami. "It's great he can make a difference."

From star player to coach

Life wasn't always this way for Sandusky. People used to come to watch him play, and instead of toiling behind the scenes, he was the one out there on the field catching touchdown passes and stealing the show.

A talented wide receiver and dynamic punt-return man, he earned all-state honors at Othello High School, and All-American status at Walla Walla Community College, Nevada-Las Vegas and San Diego State. After that, he played 14 seasons professionally, mostly in Canada with the B.C. Lions and the Edmonton Eskimos, before retiring in 1998.

Six years later, at age 43, he still looks close to his playing weight of 170 pounds on his 5-foot-9 frame.

"He's one of those old-school coaches," says senior lineman James Scott. "He doesn't tell you what to do, he shows you."

Sandusky's pickup swings into the parking lot of the old Lummi School, where a few players wearing jerseys and jeans meet him in front of the gymnasium. The Lummi Nation recently opened a new, $24 million school a few miles from here, and the old place feels like a ghost town. Discarded desks, tables and chairs clutter otherwise empty classrooms. A musty smell lingers in the gym, and a shower in the locker room remains in a state of perpetual drip.

"It was like going from the dungeon to the castle," says Sandusky of the move to the new school's polished floors and spacious classrooms. "It's amazing, the difference."

Sandusky greets assistant coach Jamie Sluys, who has arrived with two large pans of spaghetti, and together they go to an old home-economics room where they heat the food in a greasy oven. Sandusky then heads to the cafeteria where he sets up two long tables for lunch. Players shoot baskets in the gym.

In about four hours, they will face unbeaten Taholah, the team that kept them from going to the playoffs last season. Should the Blackhawks prevail, it would mark the biggest win in the program's three-year history.

"This is a key game," says assistant coach Tom Jefferson, sitting on a bench in the gym lobby. "This is going to be our measuring stick."

There's a buzz around Lummi football this season. The Blackhawks (6-1) are ranked sixth among the state's eight-man programs, and for the first time people are seriously talking playoffs.

But to appreciate how far this team has come, one needs to go back to Sandman Field.

One man's field of dreams

People wondered what Jim Sandusky was doing out there that spring of 2001, when he began staking dimensions for a full-sized football field on the bottom portion of his five-acre plot. At the time, he was also putting the finishing touches on his new home, and wasn't that enough?

But the former football star had big plans for that pasture. He had started a youth-football program in Ferndale and quickly found that the local fields were overcrowded.

So Sandusky decided to build his own place to play. Call it a true home-field advantage.

It was a patchwork project from the start.

The grass seed came from Sandusky's in-laws, who own a seed company in Eastern Washington. The homemade goalposts came courtesy of his brother-in-law, who owns a street-sweeping and landscaping business in Bellingham. Labor came from everybody, from wife Tami to son Rocki, 16, to daughter Tasha, 13.

"It was basically a team effort getting it going," Sandusky says.

Watering the newly planted field proved the biggest challenge. Sandusky had only one sprinkler, which needed to be moved every two to three hours. During the day, he'd make regular trips from town. At night, he'd set his alarm clock and trudge out into the darkness. Many times, he'd just sleep in his car near the field.

"I wanted to make sure it was ready to go," Sandusky explains.

The opening of the field in the fall of 2002 could not have come at a better time for Lummi youth. About the same time, the Blackhawks had laid plans to field their first varsity football team. But there was one problem: where to play their three home dates.

And this is where two parallel story lines merge into one, where a man's generosity and another's need unite to form a perfect symbiosis of sport.

You might have guessed what happened next. The principal of the school approached Sandusky and asked if the team could use the field. Of course, it could. And for three afternoons that autumn, the little neighborhood field on Ronnie Hill Lane became a gathering place.

The Blackhawks didn't win a game that year, finishing 0-6 despite steady improvement.

Their coach left for another job after the season, and when the post remained open well into August, people started pushing Sandusky to apply.

"I knew his credentials, I knew his status," says Jefferson, one of those leading the effort. "I knew we needed somebody that could take this team to another level and build a program with the core that we had."

After giving the matter some thought, Sandusky applied for the dual position of football coach and athletic director, even though he had never done either job at the high-school level.

"I thought it was a good opportunity to have an impact on these kids' lives, to teach them something that I know about," said Sandusky, whose mother was a member of the Colville tribe.

Building a foundation

So a second construction project was undertaken. And everybody wondered: Could the man who built the field also build a program?

At one of the first team meetings, Sandusky stood before 12 to 14 eager boys and posed a question: "Where do you guys want to go?" he said. "I'll chart the course for you, and we can map it out, but you guys are going to be the ones to drive the car."

Blank faces stared back at him until somebody broke the silence: "We want to win."

"How much do you want to win?" Sandusky pressed. "One game?"

"We want to win them all," they said.

"That's a good goal," Sandusky said. "But let's try something that is realistic, something we can go after."

"We want to make the playoffs," they said, and so that became their mission, though only two or three in the room had ever played organized football.

They set to work immediately. Assistant coach Marty Hofer read in the local newspaper what was happening down at Sandman Field and showed up one afternoon to volunteer.

He learned quickly not to assume anything. Terminology had to be taught. Plays had to be learned. Strategy had to be understood.

"We had kids who didn't know how to put their pads in," Hofer says. "They were putting knee pads in thigh pads and thigh pads in knee pads. It started from ground zero."

Sandusky recalls being frustrated by one of his defensive backs, a good athlete who despite being told repeatedly to stay behind his man was consistently beaten deep on pass plays.

And then one day it hit Sandusky: The boy was doing exactly as he had instructed. He was literally staying "behind" his man.

The coach changed the message; he started saying, "Keep him in front of you." The problem was solved.

"We had to teach them fundamentals, technique, right from the get-go," Jefferson says. "We just started right there and worked up."

And would you believe what happened? The Blackhawks started winning. Players started believing. A dream that seemed far-fetched only a few months earlier suddenly looked within reach. In the end, Lummi fell short of its goal, its playoff hopes extinguished with a 36-26 loss to Taholah in the season's penultimate game.

But a foundation had been laid. Bonds had been forged. And just when it seemed everything was headed in the right direction, word got around that Sandusky might not be asked to return, that the higher-ups had decided to explore other options for a football coach.

"The contract was up, and they were looking at our own tribal members or other tribal members," explains Lummi spokesman Aaron Thomas. "And there was a hint that they might go that way."

Kids and parents were outraged. A petition was circulated demanding that Sandusky be retained.

"We was mad," says Scott, an original member of the program. "The whole team was ready to say: 'If he ain't coaching, we ain't playing.' That's how we were."

In the end, Sandusky stayed, though as recently as this week, he still was working without a contract.

Saturday at Sandman Field

The morning fog has lifted at Sandman Field, giving way to a pleasant blue sky and picturesque views of Mount Baker. Cars line Ronnie Hill Lane. Some have pulled over on the shoulder. Others roll slowly up the hill to park on the lawn behind Sandusky's house, where Rocki and his friend, Jonathan Le, are directing traffic.

The crowd for today's game with rival Taholah has swelled beyond anything anybody has seen at Sandman Field. By the end of the third quarter, 73 vehicles, including two school buses, are parked behind the Sanduskys' home. Dozens more line the road.

"It has been pretty hard work," says Rocki, glancing at the field. "But all the work that we've put into it has come out really good. This is awesome."

Below, fans line the sideline two and three deep. Children play. Smoke from the barbecue drifts through the air. Four men holding a giant drum gather near midfield for the presentation of the colors. But instead of "The Star Spangled Banner," a Native American song of prayer and protection is offered for today's participants.

And with that, both teams take the field.

Watching eight-man football can be a little bit like watching ping-pong. With three fewer players per side than in the traditional 11-man game, back-and-forth action, long runs and deep pass plays are the norm. Teams routinely score in the 40- and 50-point range, with a 45-point mercy rule in place to prevent blowouts.

"It's a lot of running," says junior Loren Cultee. "It's like three-on-three in full-court basketball."

So there's little concern when Taholah, on the game's opening drive, scores a touchdown to go up 6-0 less than four minutes into the first quarter.

The Blackhawks, behind star quarterback Andrew Jefferson, storm back, scoring 22 unanswered points. By halftime, they lead 58-20 and the rout is on.

For all the amenities at Sandman Field, one thing the players and coaches don't have is a locker room. Those who need to use the restroom must wade through fans and wait in line at the portable toilet. Chalk talks are given on the sideline, with the players drinking from squeeze bottles and kneeling on the grass.

"The only way they're going to get back in it, save some face, score some points, is to throw," Sandusky tells his team. "So be ready."

But the second half looks much like the first. Lummi piles on the points, going up 78-34 midway through the third quarter, opening the way for Sandusky to substitute as liberally as his 24-man roster allows.

Neighbors have been generally supportive of these Saturday afternoons, though some have expressed concerns. The private road bordering the field belongs to all of them, and some neighbors are worried about who might be held responsible if somebody is injured.

The Sanduskys say not to worry, that they've secured the necessary insurance. Besides, this is the last season for Lummi football here. Next year, the Blackhawks will play their home games at the new school.

"Most people know that this is the last year," says neighbor Derek Barnes, a former high-school football player at Tyee in SeaTac, standing near the sideline. "It's three hours of a Saturday. If you're going to complain about it, it's just because you've got nothing else to complain about."

Twilight descends on Sandman Field as the Blackhawks count down the seconds on their 86-42 victory. Andrew Jefferson has made it look easy, completing 19 of 28 attempts for 455 yards and six touchdowns, and rushing 10 times for 94 yards and a score.

"This means a lot," he says. "We're thinking about playoffs already."

Fans linger on the sideline as cars snake down the hill and out to the main road. Players from both teams gather at the barbecue. Taholah faces a long bus ride home, and though the Chitwhins lost, they won't go away hungry.

More than football

Many words have been written about the hardships of reservation life. And some of these young men have lived every letter. That was part of the reason the Lummi Nation decided to start a varsity football program three years ago.

"We looked at football, and athletics in general, as a preventative measure," Thomas says. "Most communities, like in urban cities, you'll see that because they (kids) play football, because they're in athletics, they're less likely to get into drinking, less likely to get into drugging, more likely to want to go to college."

The pride in the postgame Lummi smiles tells the story. The players are learning here, learning about football, teamwork and each other. Even if their season doesn't end with a state championship trophy and a Gatorade bath, those lessons count for something, don't they?

And Sandusky? Why does he do this? What's in it for him?

"They're teaching me a lot about their way of life," he says. "And I'm trying to give back the way I know. I'm taking a lot from them."

Some people have suggested that when Lummi's new field opens next fall, the Blackhawks should continue to play one home game a year at Sandman Field, just for old times' sake.

"Yeah," lineman Paul Scott says softly, "I'm going to miss it."

He is asked to explain, and without hesitating, he answers.

"This is where it started," he says.

Matt Peterson: 206-515-5536 and mpeterson@seattletimes.com

The Blackhawks' season
A look at Lummi's 6-1 season:
Date	Opponent	Result
Sept. 4	Easton-Thorp	W, 48-0
Sept. 11	At Mary M. Knight	W, 48-8
Sept. 17	At Oakville	W, 22-16
Sept. 25	Taholah	W, 86-42
Oct. 2	Clallam Bay	L, 58-30
Oct. 9	At Neah Bay	W, 34-8
Oct. 16	Crescent	W, 48-22
Oct. 23	Chief Leschi
Oct. 30	At Christian Faith

Rise of Lummi football
Since going winless in their first season of football, the Blackhawks are 10-6:
Year	W-L
2002	0-6
2003	4-5
2004	6-1

Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company

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