Dick and Kathy

A week ago yesterday, on August 17, marked the 51st anniversary of my mom and dad's marriage in the Salt Lake Temple.

My parents first encountered each other late in the summer of 1972. My mom had just moved down to Provo to begin her senior year at BYU and had moved into the same student ward that my dad was in. That first Sunday, she attended church and the Sunday School class my dad was teaching. She was immediately impressed, both by his handsomeness and by his knowledge of the gospel.

My dad had taken note of my mom at that same church meeting. At one point, he nudged his brother Paul, who was visiting, and gestured toward my mom, who was wearing what she would describe as a very "Molly Mormon" dress, and said "I want to marry someone like that."

On the way home after church, my mom asked her roommate if my dad was dating anyone. The roommate said that he wasn’t as far as she knew. My mom said “I think I’ll date him.” (Apparently my dad would have no choice in the matter).

But, as is often the case, life had slightly different plans.

Later that day, my dad and his friend Mike showed up at my mom’s apartment to visit. But after they left and returned home, it was Mike who called and asked my mom out.

So over the next few months, Mom dated Mike and Dad dated one of my mom’s roommates, Elaine, often double-dating. (When my mom and dad eventually did become engaged (spoiler alert!), they had each met each other's parents only one time, and both of those meetings occurred during this time period when they were both dating someone else).

It was during these months that my mom became more familiar with my dad's unique and often silly sense of humor. (In his lone meeting with my grandma and grandpa Nalder, which was dinner at their home in Layton, he of course said "If I was a leopard, I'd say that hit the right spot." Unsure if he said "pardon the growth" as he shook Grandpa's hand).

But both of those relationships eventually fizzled out, Dad's with Elaine first and then a bit later, Mom's with Mike. (Mike would go onto marry my mom’s friend Susan, who was the organist when my mom was the chorister in that student ward).

Not too long after that, my dad told my mom he wanted to date her, but since his relationship with Elaine had ended, he had begun dating another friend of my mom's in the ward, Jeanne, and Jeanne really like my dad. My mom was ready with a three-point rebuttal, 1) I’m not interested, 2) my friend who you’re dating is interested, and 3) I’m interested in someone else. (My mom had previously been pretty serious with David, who was away serving in the National Guard, and she was somewhat waiting for his return to see where that would go).

One reason Mom said she wasn't interested was that in the months when they had double-dated, she'd decided she didn’t like his humor. She just found his humor to be silly.

But my dad wouldn’t be put off so easily. He continued to ask. And ask. And ask.

(In college, my friend George and I developed what we called persistence theory, where we'd see guys ask girls out, the girl reject him or not be interested, but the guy just continue to ask, and ask, and ask, and eventually the girl would relent and then they'd get married. I had never really considered that persistence theory had played a role in my own marriage, but looking back on it, I guess marrying your high school girlfriend after she had married someone else and had three kids was pretty persistent).

Eventually he asked if she would just ride to Salt Lake with him to return a tuxedo. It wasn't a date. It was an errand. My mom relented.

Once the tuxedo was returned, Dad suggested getting something to eat (cleverly turning the errand into a date). But Mom was onto him and said she wasn't hungry. My dad insisted and they did stop to eat. My dad ordered a full meal, but my mom, adamant that this was not a date, only ordered jell-o, and she doesn't even like jell-o.

Whether it was date or not, it seemed to break the ice a bit. My dad would just go over to my mom's apartment and hang out. They want to a Stars game (I remember my dad talking about seeing Ron Boone and Zelmo Beaty play). They visited my mom’s grandma in Bountiful.

My dad went on a trip to California with his mom, and talked about my mom the whole drive there and back. Sometime during the trip, he had contracted food poisoning. He called my mom and asked her to go for a walk, but that they couldn’t venture too far from her apartment.

In late February or early March, David returned from serving in the National Guard. He told my mom that he had heard she’d been dating someone and asked if it was serious. My mom said “well I’m not going to marry him.”

But not long afterward, on a late-night walk, my dad asked my mom to marry him, “out of the blue.” (Mom's words). She was taken completely by surprise and replied that she would have to think about it (after all she had just told David that she wasn’t going to marry him).

She remembers returning home and waking her roommates and telling them that my dad had proposed. When they asked her what she'd said or what she was going to do, she said "I don't know." Later that night, she prayed about it and received a very strong confirmation that she was supposed to. (Mom says that the memory of that confirmation helped her through some difficult times in their life together).

Dad followed up a few days later, Mom said that yes, she would marry him.

At the suggestion of a member of the student-ward bishopric, who was a good friend of my dad's, they went to visit my mom's parents so my dad could ask her dad for her hand in marriage. My dad's friend had assured him it would be one of the great experiences of his life.

They arrived at the home in Layton, and after some initial small-talk, Dad said to Grandpa, "I'd like to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage." Grandpa looked at him without saying a word, then turned and walked out of the room. Grandma, trying to salvage the situation, attempted to congratulate the couple, but mistakenly said, "we're just so happy for you, David." My grandpa eventually returned to the room, but never really acknowledged or responded to what my dad had said to him.

Needless to say, it was not one of the great experiences of Dad's life.

The engagement occurred in March. They planned for an August wedding but Mom first had a trip she had previously planned to participate in the Hill Cumorah Pageant. Dad didn’t want her to go, but Mom insisted and while she missed my dad terribly, she was glad she had that experience. It was on that trip that she first met my dad’s oldest brother Dale. She also attended a devotional in the Sacred Grove, where the Prophet Harold B. Lee presided, which was a spiritual experience she would always remember.

They were married August 17, 1973 in the Salt Lake Temple and had a reception that night at the church building my mom’s family attended in Layton. Jeanne (the last girl Dad had dated before he started dating Mom) made my mom’s wedding dress. A terrible lightning storm that night knocked the power out for 20 minutes or so. There were candles on all of the tables but per church policy they were unlit. But while the power was out someone went around and lit the candles at all the tables.

Their honeymoon was an epic road trip in my dad’s blue Ford Pinto, first to Butte, Montana (where they didn’t arrange a room beforehand and ended up spending the night in a pretty sleazy room, with someone knocking on the door with a stick late in the night), then onto Couer d’Alene, Idaho (where they again didn’t have a room and slept that night in the back of the Pinto, where they froze), then to Seattle, down the Oregon coast, and finally to my Uncle Dale’s home in Sunnyvale where they stayed a few days before returning home. (Dale and his family had attended Mom and Dad's wedding and were still visiting family in Utah).

And so began their life together, a life of triumphs and trials, of heartache and joy.

Voice of the Cowboys

As I completed high school, I remember that my life plan was to become a teacher and to come back to Grantsville and teach math and coach at the high school (this is essentially what my brother Scott did do). Life ended up taking me in a different direction and those plans never came to fruition. I did major in math in college, but never went into Math Education. About midway through my math degree, I discovered computer science, minored in that, and that has ended up being where I have spent my career.

While I did coach my boys a little bit as they were growing up, primarily in Junior Jazz, and all before we moved back to Grantsville, I have never become involved in coaching at the high school like I thought I might and like some of my brothers have (Scott has been involved with football at various points, including this year, and has also coached tennis and cross country and spent the last few years as the school's athletic director, Alan has helped coach football for several years, and Brent runs the clock for football and basketball. At one point, Brent had a rule that if there was a Cowboy athletic event within 45 miles of wherever he lived at the time, he would attend, and famously posted on Facebook when the Cowboys won a baseball state championship the same weekend his first child was born, that the Cowboys winning state was the best part of his weekend. He was kidding. I think). While I attend games when I can and definitely still enjoy supporting the Cowboys, I haven't had the same level of involvement that some of my other brothers have.

But when Scott opted to step down as athletic director to return to the classroom, Aaron Perkins, who had done the PA for football games the past few years, was hired as the new athletic director, which meant they needed a new PA announcer. Scott and Aaron discussed some possibilities and Scott said he would ask me. I got this text on May 24:

Scott (7:34 AM): With Aaron Perkins being the new AD would you have any interest in being the announcer at the football games?

Me (7:35 AM): I don't think so. I just don't want to commit to being at every game.

Scott (7:36 AM): I understand.

Me (7:37 AM): Sorry. I'm just not as committed as Brent.

Scott (7:38 AM): Haha. No worries. Aaron asked if I had any ideas and I told him I would ask you.

That would have been that. They would have found someone else and probably someone who would do a much better job than I would. But I talked it over with Jeanell, and she thought I should at least consider it. I thought more about it and texted Scott back the next evening, May 25:

Me (5:32 PM): So I've thought about it some more and talked to Jeanell and if you haven't already found someone else I'd be willing to give it a try. I don't know what the schedule is. I know I will be out of town September 20 and October 11. I'd only be able to do the varsity games.

Scott (5:33 PM): I don't have the schedule memorized I will send it to you and I will forward this information on to Aaron Perkins and I'll be in touch with you.

Me (5:33 PM): But if they've already got someone, that's great.

Scott responded to please plan on it and they'd make arrangements for the weekend I would be out of town.

Once I agreed to do it, I thought of the people I remembered that had announced games over the years. When I played, it was Teryl Hunsaker. I believe Jerry Hurst took over after Teryl and did it for several years. I remember Dave "Gumby" Gumucio and Don Wayne Nelson, and of course Aaron who had called the last few years. I'm sure there have been others I am missing. A great tradition that I would now have to try to not screw up.

I told my other brothers that I was planning to do it when we were gathered one Sunday evening. Kevin joked that I had a leg-up because I already knew how to pronounce "Mouritsen."

I was in touch with Aaron sporadically over the summer. We arranged for Taylor Schofield (who has helped in the past) and my brother Kevin (Glen) to help as spotters. Scott got me setup with an hour-long online PA announcing class that I watched. But beyond that I didn't really know what to do to prepare. And as the summer wore on, I started to get nervous about it. I was also going to be out of town for the Red/White scrimmage so my first opportunity to announce would be a real game.

That opportunity came about this past Friday when the Cowboys took on the San Juan Broncos (winners of 37 straight games and the last three 2A state championships). I had emailed San Juan's coach (Barkley Christensen) a few weeks ago for help with any pronunciations that I might find tricky. He graciously replied and in our email conversation, I learned that he was born the same year that San Juan ended my own football career when they defeated us in the state quarter finals 24-16 in 1994. If nothing else, this made me feel old.

(He also mentioned that his older brother was on the team that defeated my brother Alan and the rest of the Cowboys in the 1998 state semifinals).

I also told him how I had played in the 1A/2A vs 3A All-Star game that following summer, and that the coach our 1A/2A team was legendary San Juan coach Art Burtenshaw (Art's son Brad, who also went into coaching, was my teammate on that team).

I have to admit that I became quite nervous as game time approached. I printed out multiple copies of each team's roster that I could make notes on, and another sheet of things I needed to say during the course of the game. I arrived at the field an hour before kickoff, found Aaron, and he gave me a quick crash course on how to use the mic, when to make some of the announcements, and his suggestions on how to execute the announcing (always announce the offensive player first, then the defense).

I went over to the booth where the San Juan crew was setup for their broadcast and asked for some additional clarification on how to pronounce some names. I then did the same with Grantsville crew on the other side of the press box. Brent arrived to run the clock, and Kevin and Taylor showed up as well. We quickly came up with a system and decided that Kevin would spot the offense and Taylor would spot the defense. Time went quickly and before I knew it I was welcoming the fans and announcing the national anthem. The game got underway and of course San Juan came out in a no-huddle offense which made it hard to keep up with everything. I could tell I was pretty nervous and I believe the fans could tell that I was.

But as the game went on, I got more comfortable, and began to enjoy it. Kevin and Taylor did a great job of identifying the players involved with each play, and Brent, while doing a great job running the clock, was also a great help at calling out the penalties that occurred (and there were a few).

The game turned out to be a great one, with Grantsville prevailing 36-30, sealing the game with a late interception in their own end zone. (Amazingly, with 11 touchdowns scored, there was not a single successful post-touchdown conversion in the entire game. Both teams tried both kicking and two-point tries, but nothing was successful).

I don't know how I did, but I enjoyed it. The few people I talked to after the game all told me I did well, but what are they going to say? I was anonymously informed during the game that I needed to talk louder (we instead turned up the volume on the mic). But our only real snafu was when I turned off the mic after the game, without first muting the sound system, which caused loud static to blare from the speakers for a minute or so (both Scott and Aaron were trying to call me to tell me what to do to stop it, finally Scott got me to answer).

I don't know if this will be a long-term thing or not, but I had a lot of fun at the first game and am looking forward to the next one. Go Cowboys!

The Ranch

In the spring of 1989, I was twelve and was just finishing the 6th Grade when Sunnie Titmus offered me a job working on their ranch east of Grantsville. I had grown up knowing Sunnie and his wife Janae (the ranch and the sheep were actually owned by Janae's dad, Hatch Howard. Oil had been found on some of Hatch's land. He would quip, "If you want to make a fortune in the sheep business, strike oil" and "If you want to make a small fortune in the sheep business, start out with a large fortune"), as they were in our ward. But I don't remember any specific interactions that I had with them prior to going to work for them. (As I was typing that sentence, I had a memory of a trip we took to stay at the ranch in Evanston along with the Tripps and Chatwins, but I still don't remember a specific interaction with Sunnie or Janae. I do remember catching a whole bunch of frogs). But apparently I had made a good, or at least adequate, impression.

My parents were pretty happy I was being given this opportunity. My mom didn't work at the time and there were six kids (McKell wouldn't have been born yet) and at twelve, it was high time I started pulling my weight.

Shane Allred and Mike Larsen were four years older than me and both had already worked there for a few years. Sunnie was bringing me along as the next generation.

I remember going the first day, which I remember as being a Thursday (not sure if that's right, but that's what I'm remembering (I would see it felt like Thursday, but Thursday has no feel). I don't remember exactly what we did that day, but my guess would be that we moved sprinkler pipe. I do remember that I didn't like it...at all. It was hot and there were mosquitoes and gnats, and the pipes were heavy. Wasn't what I thought of as a good time.

I was supposed to go back the next day, but I believe when I got home from school, I threw myself onto my bed and started crying and basically refused to go. Later that night, after I had calmed down, I went with my parents to Sunnie and Janae's to talk with them about the job. I don't remember what was said, but I came back the next day and to the best I can recall, I never missed another day, at least not without permission.

Not that I suddenly became a stellar employee (I don't know that I was ever a stellar employee). I remember some struggles I had that first summer. I've detailed some of my driving mishaps elsewhere, but I also have a memory of doing something in Titmus' backyard with a wheelbarrow and they were gone and whatever I was doing was very hard, and tears were flowing again. Another time I was supposed to clean out the sheep pens (I was again on my own that day) and I had a hard time with the smell (and probably just with the work) and would frequently stop cleaning the stalls and go outside the barn to get some fresh air. At some point, Sunnie returned and I went out to talk to him. He asked if I was done. I had cleaned maybe four pens out of what seemed like 100. Sunnie said he'd take me home.

When I was moving sprinkler pipe, I always did better when I was with Mike and Shane (probably because they would do most of the work in that case). If I got dropped off to move a field myself, I would work extremely slowly, in hopes that Mike and Shane would finish what they were doing and come and help me finish. I also wasn't great at keeping the lines straight as I would move the pipe. You were supposed to pick a point that was straight from the riser and aim each pipe toward that, but I think I pretty much dropped the pipe as soon as I got it moved, without paying much attention to where it was pointing. I remember I was working on moving a line one day and Sunnie came out to me in the field. Mike and/or Shane wasn't there that day so he told me that no one was coming to help me. And then he said that I needed to keep the line straighter and we both looked back to see the pipe I'd already moved swerving every which way. Finally, he told me that he knew the pipe were heavy and I could take my time when carrying the pipe, but that when I walked back to get the next pipe, I needed to walk quickly. He didn't raise his voice at all or even speak angrily, just made it clear that I wasn't meeting expectations. (When I got older, I would run back to pick up the next pipe, not always an easy feat when the alfalfa was high).

I finished out the year (I made $1,359 dollars that year. My memory is that I was paid $4/hr, and typically I'd only work in the morning, helping to move the sprinklers, and then be done at noon. I remember the conversation I had with Sunnie and him asking me how many hours I was thinking I should work. I first asked him how long Mike and Shane were going to work, to which he replied, "from six in the morning until six in the evening." So I told Sunnie that I should probably work 6-8 hours a day, but he came back and said 4-6. We'd typically start at 8, and most days we'd just move the water in the morning and then I'd be done). But even though I'd made it through the year, I think neither Sunnie nor myself was sure if this was going to work out and if I would be back the next year.

The spring of 1990, Sunnie didn't reach out and neither did I until finally, I think at my dad's urging, I called and asked Sunnie if he was planning on me working for him again this year. I honestly don't know if he had been planning on it or not, but he said yes and we arranged a day for me to start work. That year went better and I don't remember there ever being a question again as to whether I would be back the next summer. I also don't remember if it was this summer or the next, when my buddy John joined me working on the ranch (Mike is John's brother and Shane is his cousin).

Some of the random things I remember about working on the ranch. Ten, two, and four was Dr. Pepper time. We'd take turns going to Jr Mart and buying donuts for everyone. Sunnie always saying "good enough for the girls we go out with" when talking about a job we'd finished. I also remember him sighing, "Awwwww heck." I also remember at the end of the day, when it was time to go home, he'd say "hasta manana." In the spring, during lambing season when the sheep and the shepherds were at the ranch, we'd eat breakfast and lunch in the bunk house. Before they eventually moved to ton bales, I remember stacking hay in the barn by hand and sending it to the top of the stack on the hay elevator.

It was working on the ranch that I learned about docking sheep and how it entailed castrating the males, by someone removing the testicles...with their teeth (and yes, I have done it, but only once). I remember that Mike and Shane would change out of their irrigation boots after we'd finished moving water into shoes that weren't so hot and heavy, but I was content to continue doing whatever else we were doing in my irrigation boots.

While there were plenty of times we screwed up or didn't do as good of a job as we should have, there was only once I remember that Sunnie got angry with us. Typically, we'd park whatever truck we were using at the edge of the field and mostly walk to move the sprinklers, but for whatever reason, on this occasion John and I were being lazy and drove his blue truck out into the field. We weren't careful enough and drove it into an area that was muddy from being watered and got the truck stuck. "No big deal," we thought. "We'll just go get the big tractor and pull the truck out." So we walked back to the ranch (which fortunately wasn't far) and got the big tractor and drove it back out to pull the truck out. I specifically remember saying to John while we were driving over, "There's no way we're getting this tractor stuck." But we did. I got out and was guiding John as he backed toward the truck, when suddenly one of the rear tires sunk deep into the mud. John quickly shifted and tried to pull forward, but the tire just spun and sank deeper. Our hearts sank as we realized this had now turned into something more serious.

We made our way over to the field where Sunnie was cutting or baling. Unknown to us, he had been watching the whole time. As we approached him, he said "Looks like you've been doing a good job over there," with an edge that we were not accustomed to. "Getting the truck unstuck is no big deal, but getting that tractor out is going to take some work." He then asked if we had got the water turned on in another field that we were supposed to be getting turned on. When we told him we hadn't, he said we'd better go do that.

After getting the water back on, we went and found Sunnie at his house, assuming we were going to be fired. (Another subtext of all this is that football had started and unlike later generations of kids who worked for Sunnie, we continued to work even during two-a-days. We'd go to practice in the morning, then go and move the water during the day, and then return for the evening practice. Because of everything that had gone on, we were getting close to needing to leave to get to football practice). Sunnie still wasn't happy but I remember him saying "I guess you guys will learn" and then after some further conversation, finally saying "hasta manana," confirming that we weren't fired after all. As I recall, John and I each quickly went home, changed clothes, and went immediately to football practice.

My buddy Aaron came to work with us on the ranch the next summer and on one of the first days, he got one of Sunnie's trucks stuck in another field (again we were being lazy and driving when we probably should have been walking). Probably having been told about the incident with the tractor, he became increasingly desperate to get the truck unstuck, and eventually removed his shirt and tried to shove it under a tire to get traction (it didn't work). On this occasion, Sunnie eventually came and pulled us out, without even a hint of irritation.

Another of my favorite memories of my time on the ranch was when I went and stayed for a week at the cabin in Evanston with just Julio (another long-time employee) to build a fence. It was just the two of us for the whole week. I stayed in the cabin and he stayed in his sheep camp. For the most part, there was nothing to do, but work. I remember on one of the days, we drove into town, and Julio bought me McDonald's. On another day, some cows had got out of where they were supposed to be and we had to go and herd them back into the right field. I had ridden a horse before, but not for years. I remember Julio telling me I needed to ride along this ridge "pretty fast" to get in front of the cows and turn them back the other way. I still distinctly remember the theme from "The Man from Snowy River" running through my head as I rode trying to head off the cows. We were able to get the cows back where they were supposed to be. I also remember there being a TV and a VCR in the cabin and there was a "Best of Johnny Carson" VHS there that I watched one of the nights.

Working on the ranch was a defining experience of my life and played a large part in the person I became. Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch were all huge influences in my life and have been lifelong friends. Before I went away to college, with my dad unable to at the time, Sunnie ordained me to be an elder. Hatch provided financial support for me when I went on my mission. And Sunnie, Janae, and Hatch all came and saw me in Mexico City while I was on my mission (they knew someone who was living at the Church-owned Benemerito and arranged for me and another missionary (Elder Fletcher) to go visit them and watch the BYU/Utah game with them).

Grateful for each of them and the positive influence they have had on my life.

Basketball

While ultimately I would end up being better at and having more success with football, basketball was my first love.

But sports in general were not of much interest to me when I was young. I believe my parents signed me up for soccer before we even moved to Grantsville. I don't remember any games or practices, but I do have a memory of my dad getting after me because my parents were looking all over the house for my cleats or shin guards or something while I sat on the couch and watched TV, apparently not too concerned whether I made it to the game or not.

Once we moved to Grantsville, I played a couple of years of t-ball. The first year I played, Danielle Estrada was my coach. I don't remember too much about that year, other than that to start the year, I was afraid of the ball, and therefore couldn't catch the ball. I played deep in the outfield. But then one weekend, we were at my Grandma Nalder's and I specifically remember my Uncle Carl playing catch with me and probably some others. And something clicked for me and I went from not being able to catch the ball at all to being pretty good at it. I went from deep in the outfield to playing pitcher and catcher. The other memory I have about that year was my neighbor Andrew Proctor, who was on my team (I think it was the same year, but maybe not), making an unassisted triple play. I think he was playing second and there were runners on first and second and he caught a line drive, tagged second to get the runner who had been on second, and then ran down and tagged the runner from first before they could get back. I mean, it was t-ball so the base-running could have been a little suspect, but still.

But oh yeah, basketball, I'm supposed to be talking about basketball. My first memory of basketball was my family and the Tripps being invited over to Matt and Lori Lawrence's for a barbecue not long after moving to Grantsville, and they had a basketball hoop in their backyard. I remember George and I shooting over and over, without any success. At some point, George informed me that he had already made one (I didn't see him make one, but whatever, I'm sure he did). Not wanting to be outdone, I lied and said that I had as well. Sometime later on that same evening, I did make one, and probably was a little too excited about it, especially since I had allegedly already made one.

Not too long after we moved to town, my dad put up a basketball hoop on our driveway. I wish I could remember who, but I'm pretty sure it was someone in town who made the standard. That driveway and that hoop would become somewhat of a sanctuary for me, particularly during my middle school years. 

I didn't start playing Junior Jazz until Fifth Grade (not sure if it was available to be played earlier than that or not at the time). I don't remember my coach's name (Dennis?), but he was married to Sherry Barrus at the time. I wasn't very good at getting the ball in the basket yet, but I could jump high and seemed to do alright that year. The following spring, the Jazz beat the Portland Trailblazers in the first round of the playoffs and then took on the mighty Lakers, who were trying to repeat as NBA Champions. The Jazz ultimately lost in a hard-fought seven-game series, but that is the point I fell completely in love with basketball. I rooted against the Lakers for the rest of the playoffs, and when they beat Detroit, I got so angry I ran to my room and ripped down a picture of Magic Johnson I had cut out of a magazine and taped to my wall. (The Lakers beat Dallas in seven games in the Conference Finals, and then Detroit in seven games in the finals. Three consecutive seven-game series, but they successfully repeated as champions).

That summer and into the fall I played basketball constantly, seemingly spending every spare minute shooting baskets in my driveway. (Where our house was on the corner of Main Street, anyone who drove past could see me out there shooting baskets. Janiece Snively once told my dad that whenever they were headed out of town they'd bet whether I would be out shooting baskets or not when they passed my house and that usually whoever bet that I would be out there would win). By the time basketball season rolled around again, I had improved immensely at being able to put the ball in the basket.

I don't remember if I played Junior Jazz the next year, but it was my first year playing Bantam basketball. Bantam was unique in that they had a draft and once you were on a team, you played on that team for all three years of Bantam basketball, and if you had any younger siblings that overlapped you, they would automatically be added to your team (this resulted in Mouritsens being on the Bulls for many years). I don't think Bantam is still around, at least not in the same form, but it was great at the time. I don't know if I can remember all the teams and coaches, but my recollections is that Steve Larson coached the Chaps, Brad Sutton coached the Stars, Jack Nelson and Kim Palmer coached the Bulls (the team I was drafted to), Kenny Nelson coached the Lakers, Roger Cowan coached the Celtics, and Jeff Hutchins and Loren Anderson coached the Bucks.

I only have a couple of memories of individual games. I think the way it worked, is that the first four minutes of the first and third quarters, the starters would play, and then there would be a timeout, and the younger kids would sub in for the last four minutes. My first game, our team got down in the first four minutes and I came in at that point and scored six straight points to get us back in the game, which we went on to win. I remember Josh Hill and Danny Andersen being on the team that year.

I don't remember much about my seventh grade year, but my eight grade year, I remember that Bob Silva was on my team and we were one of the best teams. My buddies Aaron, Dave, and Travis Tate were on the Lakers who were the other dominant team that year. My recollection is that we each went 9-1, with each of us winning one against each other. We lost the first game to the Lakers in a close one, sealed when we had too many players go into the game toward the end and got a technical foul. In the second game against them, it was tied as time was expiring. I drove to about the free-throw line area, elevated, and hit a shot over both Aaron and Dave as time expired to win by two. (I believe they both informed me that they could have blocked the shot, but were afraid they'd be called for a foul. Maybe). Definitely my single best basketball highlight to that point.

I do remember also playing Junior Jazz in seventh and eighth grade. In seventh grade, Roger Hunt coached us and it seems like we only had one Grantsville team and we mostly played other teams in the county. In eighth grade, I was coached by Gary Christley, and we cruised through the regular season, but were upset by Roger Cowan's team and his infamous Tiger Paw offense. Erich Christley, Spencer Parkinson, and Cass Bleazard are teammates I remember on that team, and Brent Cowan and Philip Ware were on Roger's team that beat us.

Going into high school, I definitely thought that basketball was going to be my thing, to such an extent that I chose not to play football as a freshman so that I could "get ready for basketball." (I'm sure the fact that I didn't like to get hit had nothing to do with it).

Our freshman year, we were coached by Roger Cowan and Don Wayne Nelson and had a great season. We only lost two games (at Millard and at Morgan). In the game at Millard, I not so subtly jumped on one of their player's back when he was down on the floor. Not one of my better moments. I don't remember a lot about specific games. I do remember that toward the end of the season, we had a one-on-one competition and a three-point competition and that I won both. Unfortunately, that year was probably when I peaked as a basketball player.

The next year, we were on the JV Team and would practice with the Varsity. Mark Hutchins was the head coach and Jeff and Mike Didericksen were his assistants. I don't remember too much about that year, other than that I was one of a couple of sophomores invited to dress for the varsity games, but I soon decided I would just as soon change and go watch the game with my friends. So I just stopped dressing without telling anyone. No one seemed to notice until the Varsity was winning big one game and Coach Hutchins went to put me in the game, only to find that I wasn't there.

Another JV memory I have was from our junior year. We had played at Manti earlier in the season and they had just destroyed us. On paper, they were definitely a more talented team, but when they came to Grantsville, we were motivated to redeem ourselves and came out and played the game of our lives. I remember leading by 25 midway through the third quarter. They made a bit of a run, but we still ended up winning by 12 or so. One of the most fun games I ever remember playing in.

That year, I would also play some varsity. We were playing South Summit at home and trailed by three late in the game, but had the ball. I don't remember who took the initial shot, but it missed badly, but someone on the team managed to corral the rebound. Several players collapsed on whoever got the rebound in the paint, and they pivoted to find me all alone (probably with good reason) angle right outside the three-point line. They threw it out to me, I took the shot, and nailed it, tying the game. When their last-second attempt missed, we went to overtime, where we prevailed.

My senior year, I don't remember a whole lot. I remember guaranteeing a win at Millard and following through on it. I remember losing a tight game at home to Morgan after John and me had both fouled out. I remember a close game against South Summit at home and thinking we had the game in hand when John was fouled and went to the line with only a second or two remaining, with us up by two. John missed the free-throw, a South Summit kid grabbed the rebound, heaved it the full length of the court, and banked it in, putting them ahead by one as time expired. But wait! The ball had bounced off the rafters in the ceiling mid-flight and was consequently waved off. We escaped!

We had a decent season, but lost to Juab on a last-second shot in the region tournament, which meant we didn’t go on to state. My high school career was over.

I didn't end up having as much success playing basketball as I maybe thought I would at one point. But I still love the game. And there's still nothing quite like playing basketball with your buddies.

(This ended up being longer than I thought, and I didn't even mention church basketball, or the Alumni Tournament, or basketball at the MTC. I know it was probably exhausting to read, but imagine what it was like to write).

Freshman year is my guess. Spandex!

Not sure what year this would have been, but more spandex!

Senior year against Millard.

Same game against Millard. Aaron and I boxing out as John blocks the shot.