There’s more to different sports than eye can see

There’s an overlooked sense in high school sports.

It’s aural.

That realization washed over me while I was sitting at the Rubber Chicken, wishing I hadn’t forgotten my pair of earplugs, left rotting on the dresser in the spare bedroom.

The sounds that accompany prep sporting events are distinctive. They are a combination of sports’ typical – whistles, grunts, boos – and high school’s unique – voice-cracking yells, parental admonitions, girlish giggles.

Mixed together, it becomes the cacophony that is prep sports.

Last Friday night, I went searching for those one-of-a-kind sounds you only find in high school gyms. My quest took me to two states, four events and one drug store (… out of Excedrin).

It started in my living room and ended where the thoughts began: the Spokane Arena.

Here’s my diary …

2:45 p.m.: Leave home later than I wanted. Drive the 32 miles though the drumming rain to Post Falls for the River City Duals wrestling tournament. The Arena is awash in colors, orange and red and black and … no, I have to concentrate on the sounds.

The individual sounds, that’s why I’m here. They are hard to discern. With six mats in use simultaneously, the noises mix together like a wrestling stew. Slowly they start to separate.

The slight thud of the rolled-up towel glancing off a referee’s shoulder, their signal the round is over. The laughter from the next section of stands, where a team waits its turn to compete. The slap of hands against the top of a head as a 130-pounder tries to gain advantage prior to a quick assault to the legs. The announcer telling fans: “It’s $5 for all-you-can-eat spaghetti in the cafeteria. Just follow the smell.”

4:30: Time to go if I want to get to Freeman on time. Because spaghetti – or lukewarm hot dogs – just isn’t my meal of choice right now, a quick stop to eat on Sullivan before I pop down State Route 27. The parking lot is nearly full even though it is 20 minutes before the Freeman girls will host their Northeast A rivals from Colfax.

The Quonset-hut gym is quiet, with muffled voices and an occasional note from a band instrument on stage. The Colfax girls huddle in a doorway, waiting for their cue to take the court. It comes, they go and a few hands clap together on the Bulldogs side. Then Freeman takes the floor. The noise level rises, mainly because the band is now playing. All in all, the game is played quieter than one would expect, given the depth of the Colfax/Freeman rivalry.

Still, after the Freeman crowd respectfully disagrees with the lack of a traveling call, one Colfax parent yells for everyone to hear, “It’s called a crossover!” Yet, when half arrives tied at 18, the clapping from both sides seems restrained.

7:21: After a quick drive up the Old Palouse Highway I arrive at Ferris, expecting to catch the first part of the boys game with Gonzaga Prep. But the girls game is still going.

The most prevalent sound is one of conversation, as most in attendance seem more interested in catching up with friends than watching the game. As G-Prep pulls away down the stretch, sneakers squeak, whistles blow and the horn sounds.

There are probably more noises to catch, but there’s still one stop to make.

7:52: Thanks to the length of the between-game performances, the boys game has just started as I walk into the Arena.

These are the sounds that have become comfortable: the organized cheers, the rhythmic clapping, the screams of 3,000 teenagers trying to win a smelly shoe.

As I sit and listen, it’s almost like home. It all makes sense. Still, there’s a little voice whispering in my ear. Try as I might, I can’t make it out.

Until I take out my earplugs.