Lewis & Clark makes for a
long trip home

As Macalester embarks on its new experiment in building competitive football, we bring you a weekly look inside the program from one of the 37 student-athletes in uniform.

By Adam Johnson 
(posted Oct. 21, 2002)

The only thing worse than getting blown out, is traveling halfway across the country to have it happen. Add "raspberries" from the turf to knees, elbows and forearms and we've all got painful reminders of just how bad we got burned — literally.

This past weekend marked the first major trip of our new national independent schedule. We flew to Oregon to play the Pioneers of Lewis & Clark — sometimes called "Lewinsky & Clark" after the school's most notable recent alum. This type of humor kept us loose in our week of preparation but when the game was over we were angry and embarrassed.

The football atmosphere at Lewis & Clark was unique. They had a beautiful turf field with a large section of covered stands and a balcony for the press box tucked in a naturally enclosed "bowl" surrounded by trees of all kinds and the hillside. We spent an hour and a half on the field on Friday getting a feel for it and trying out different sneakers. We usually play one game a year on turf — either at Augsburg or the Dome — so we don't have a lot of experience on it. Our training staff ordered neoprene sleeves to protect our arms from the turf and we also had the white strips that NFL receivers wear for extra protection.

For a team activity on Friday evening we toured Niketown in Beaverton, Ore. The "town" oozed of greed, wealth and exploitation. The fact that we, as a group of student-athletes from "ultra-liberal" Macalester, were touring the facility of a major player in corporate America was almost too ironic. It's a good thing that we didn't have a lot of the "Anti-Corporate America" students with us or they may have burned the place down.

We prepared for this week's game on grass, in snow and sub-40 degree temperatures because that's the resources we had in Minnesota. We couldn't rent the Dome or adjust the weather to Portland's climate. The turf and 65 degree weather in Oregon was nice but almost too hot for a late October game.

The game started with both teams showcasing their defenses. We picked off a pass and blocked a punt on their first two possessions and they were able to force us into three-and-outs on both possessions. Their offense eventually started to click as their quarterback, who set the school passing record in the game, started finding his receivers. Our offense never got on track and it led to an embarrassing afternoon. Turf burns added up faster than total yards as our entire offensive unit was out of sync.

When the final horn sounded and the score was 34-0, I felt like catching a red-eye back to Minnesota on Saturday night. We had just gotten smoked by a team that we should have played evenly with. The pain of the loss really sunk in after the game in the showers as soap and hot water turned our turf burns into stinging open sores. At that point I missed Minnesota and our grass home field — I also missed the thrill of our four-game winning streak from earlier in the season.

We flew halfway across the country to get burned, in more ways than one, in front of nearly 75 Macalester alums from the area and a handful of parents who made the trip. We won't be able to forget this one quickly as even the slightest move rips open a scabbed-over raspberry. I imagine we'll add some more to our individual collections in two weeks at the Dome and they'll eventually all heal after the season.

Looking to salvage some good memories from the trip, a bunch of us went into Portland on Saturday night to check out the local scene. It was a great time and provided memories that we'll probably talk about long after the season is over. Just before we were about to head back to the hotel, a group of us found ourselves on the edge of what we termed the "Chevron Shootout" — about 10 squad cars, officers with shotguns and hand guns drawn, pulling males, one by one, from two vehicles at a Chevron gas station.

After their unexpected encounter with police, I bet those suspects would have been happy with a loss and some turf burns, but we sure weren't.

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