Inchelium Enjoys Return To Glory Days

Nineteen eighty three.

If it seems like only yesterday in Inchelium, it’s probably because the reminders are there to wake the residents each morning and tuck them in every night.

In 1983, their high school football team was as good as it could be. And after an autumn of high old times, the Hornets rewarded the tiniest of towns with the biggest of thrills, winning the state 8-man championship - a first in the school’s history - in what was then called the Kingbowl after the concrete mushroom in which it was played.

“Just being in there took your breath away,” said Lonnie Simpson, the star of that game. “But now it’s gone.”

The building, he means. The memory is very much back.

On Saturday in a downsized - but still standing - dome in Tacoma, the Hornets play again for all the B-8 marbles, this time against Odessa. Call it a ceremonial trip across the state for two league rivals who could just as easily meet halfway in Davenport to settle the issue.

In such a setting, the inevitable connections would be even more stark.

The cycling of generations is, of course, the blood pumping through the heart of small-town sports. Kids play, kids stay, and soon enough it’s their kids who are doing the playing.

“And pretty much everybody on this team,” said Hornets coach Duane Gatlin, “is somehow related to somebody from that team - uncle, brother, father, cousin, in-law.”

Jon Simmons, the towering linebacker of the 2000 Hornets, is the nephew of Russell Camp, who played in ‘83. Standout running back David Tonasket’s older brother Gary was Inchelium’s quarterback 17 years ago, though he was hurt in a quarterfinal game and just a spectator in Seattle. Gus Gronlund’s brother, Wayne, played in ‘83; so did John Swan’s uncle Joe Bear Swan.

And then there’s Lonnie Simpson, who in 1983 not only contributed mightily to the Hornets’ success but also to their future.

For it was that very football season that his son Jacolby - the 2000 Hornets’ junior quarterback - was born.

No, it’s not the traditional football hero’s tale tailored for our sensibilities.

DeAnn Simpson - she was DeAnn Seymour before she married Lonnie - recalls the details of the day through a smile that betrays the joy of the moment, the pride in her family (they have three children, and another on the way) and a cockeyed appreciation of, well, real life.

“October 29,” said DeAnn, who graduated high school a year ahead of her husband. “Lonnie was running for king of the school carnival. He got to see his son born at 2:29 p.m. and got crowned carnival king that night. And he was sicker than a dog when he came to pick us up the next day. Too much celebrating.”

Lonnie Simpson’s state record - 6,274 yards rushing in his high school career - still stands. Nearly 3,000 of those yards came in 1983, and 842 in three playoff games en route to the state championship - the last step a 38-22 win over Wishkah. He was quick and elusive and, like any great running back, had a deep appreciation for the linemen who cleared the way.

Which is why Jacolby is Jacolby.

“He’s named after Joe Jacoby - the old Washington Redskins lineman,” reported DeAnn. “Lonnie just liked him so bad that the name stuck. All I got to do was put the `L’ in the middle.”

In some respects, the son is even more gifted than the father. He has, after all, been Inchelium’s starting quarterback since the eighth grade, when small turnouts at both the junior high and high school prompted Gatlin to move a few young players to the varsity.

“We knew we’d take some lumps, but there was never a problem with the older kids,” said Gatlin, who has been at Inchelium since 1977 and coached both Simpsons. “He was in charge out there. He had a presence.

“Jacolby is a little bigger than Lonnie was, but I’m starting to see some similarities. Jacolby’s coming into his own. He’s showing some of those shifty moves his dad had.

Heck, he probably still has them, out in the woods running from bears.”

Lonnie Simpson has made his living in those woods as a logger, providing for his family and putting his wife of 15 years through school after a brief college fling himself at Whitworth. He can see his son taking football further, not only because of his size - he’s 6-foot-2 - but because of a grade-point average he keeps above a 3-point.

But there will be challenges, too. As Lonnie was, Jacolby Simpson is a teenage father. His son, Matthew, is 16 months old.

The parallels pile up in all sorts of ways.

As it happens, both Lonnie’s team in ‘83 and Jacolby’s this fall lost season-opening games to Odessa, and have rallied to win every game since. Lonnie never exacted revenge: Odessa was knocked off by St. John-Endicott in the semis that year.

Jacolby gets his chance on Saturday.

“Actually, that loss helped us,” he insisted. “We’d lost to Touchet in the last minute in the playoffs last year and thought we’d be unbeatable this year. We overlooked Odessa - we’d beaten them like 44-0 last year - and they taught us a lesson.

“It’d be nice to get another chance at them.”

And now he’s got it. He’d best make the most of it.

“He’s gotten tired of listening to me talk about 1983 a long time ago,” insisted Lonnie. “But until he wins, I ain’t shutting up.”

In the next breath, however, Lonnie Simpson says it all: “The sting is back.”