Run the Race for the Cup (Part 2)
Motivation and Focus Come From Within.
The Rest Is Just Noise.
(Silence)
The buzz of the B.W. Lodge gymnasium lights overhead. The occasional pop of a ball being caught.
The legacy of the Dillon Beavers, and a tradition dating back to at least the 1970s, is silence before a game. The calm before the storm.
The second you walk into the locker room two hours before kickoff, it’s quiet. No talking. No music.
Lockers open and close. You can hear the sliding of fabric as everyone changes from street clothes into padded pants and jerseys. Receivers, running backs, and quarterbacks eventually head out to the gym to play catch and warm up. Later, the non-skill players join. Everyone gets organized for a stretch.
Other teams are blasting music. Talking. Hyping each other up. But none of that is as loudly menacing as our disciplined quiet routine.
Breaking the Silence
Finally, the silence is broken and the emotion released when one of the four captains — in this case, Andy (from the Homies) — yells:
“Push-ups wide, Beavers ready!?”
The whole team answers in unison:
“READY!”
We repeat the sequence twice more before three sets of five are yelled out (wide, regular, tight), and then sit-ups for ten, where our other captain, Bob, takes us through the cadence:
“Sit-ups, Beavers ready!?” “READY!”
The group is then on its feet, forming a circle, screaming at the top of our lungs and collectively jumping. It's a mosh pit with a purpose.
The chaos calms. Hands come up and into the center for a break. My teammate Harley Borjas’ hand is at the top of the pile with the “number 1” signal.
That’s where I come in.
“Play hard. Play smart. Play together. Defense on three. One, two, three.”
The whole team:
“DEFENSE!”
Back to silence.
The team heads to the locker room and faces the entry. Captains meet with the coaches for a quick tone-setting meeting. Then they sprint back into the locker room, again breaking the silence with screams.
Head coach Terry Thomas comes in yelling with pure intensity, staring into our eyes, clapping his hands, hyping everyone up. Then he raises his hands, four fingers in the air, and yells (as the Team mirrors his “four” hand signal and repeats)
“Concentration!” “Dedication!” “Teamwork!” “Enthusiasm!” “Fourth Quarter!”
Heavy breathing. Then silence.
Coach gives us the pregame speech. That’s followed by the Lord’s Prayer. (The first time I ever heard this prayer was as a sophomore. Admittedly, I never learned it and mumbled my way through it until the “Amen” for three years.) As the group breaks to finish prepping to take the field, Coach Vezina (pronounced Viz-nah) (rest in peace) would always say:
“Run the race for the cup, fellas.”
Silence.
Everyone suits up in pads and helmets.
Pat pat — the sound of hands tapping the infamous locker room sign on the way to the field.
August 2005 –
Heading into the season, I grabbed number 9 for the final time in high school. Four straight years, and every time I touched Vigilante Field for a game, I wore that number.
After two-a-days and before the Blue and Gold Scrimmage, the team voted on senior captains. There were four spots. It’s the ultimate recognition from your teammates.
Since the spring of 2005, I had dedicated myself to this final season of football — weight lifting, growing my hair, locked in.
After the vote, I went into the locker room to prep for practice.
I was by myself, sitting on the bench, tying my shoe. Vez (Wide Receivers/Defensive Backs/Return Specialist coach Steve Vezina) walked by and patted me on the side.
It was a small moment, but deep down I knew what it meant.
I took it as a sign, and shortly after it was confirmed:
I was voted one of four captains along with Andy, Bob, and Chance.
To this day, it’s one of the biggest honors of my life.
There’s nothing more humbling than being seen and recognized by your teammates for your hard work and dedication.
Playoffs
First Round –
vs. Whitefish
The regular season eliminated twelve teams in the Class A ranks. The remaining twelve were still in the race.
Four conference winners had first-round byes:
Miles City (East)
Frenchtown (Southwest)
Butte Central (Central)
Polson (Northwest)
The other eight teams would face off in the first round. Including us, the Dillon Beavers.
As the second-place team in the Southwest, we hosted the third-place team from the Northwest: the Whitefish Bulldogs.
Whitefish finished 6–2 and had a state-champion high jumper at wide receiver — their X-factor.
Heading into the postseason, our defense had allowed the fourth-fewest points in the state (91 all season) and our offense was the number one scoring unit with 289 points.
After five practices (three in full pads), we were ready at 7–1 (4–1 in conference).
Whitefish came in with upset energy, and we sputtered. Penalties, turnovers, and mistakes kept them on our side of the field during the first half. They were in our red zone four times. On one of those possessions, they fumbled and we recovered.
Their high-jump wide receiver had a post-corner play they’d used all season to get behind cornerbacks for big gains and scores. We repped it in practice and watched the film all week.
As the Bulldogs drove, I was at right cornerback. Their wideout ran a slant. I broke on it. The ball was thrown behind him, and as we both went for it, my left hand hooked his shoulder pads, knocking him off balance and drawing a flag.
Pass interference. Fifteen yards.
Thinking they had me guessing and had set me up to break on the slant again, they went to the post-corner to my side.
At 5'5", 130 pounds, I wasn’t exactly an intimidating specimen. Teams tried to pick on me, assuming they had a mismatch. Despite that, I never gave up any big plays or touchdowns.
We were in Cover 3. Ball snapped. I backpedaled, keeping the receiver in front of me. He cut inside like before. As soon as he did, I recognized what was coming. Instead of breaking on the slant, I angle-backpedaled to the right as he broke to the corner of the end zone.
Now it was a one-on-one jump ball: Me at 5'5" versus a 6'0" state champion high jumper.
I was in position. I jumped and got two hands on the ball. He, to my left, tried to lean in and got his hands on it too. As we fell, I ripped the ball away and landed on my back in the end zone for a touchback, ending their drive.
Arguably one of the best plays of my football career.
And wouldn’t fate have it that Eric (who filmed all of my games) missed the play. He had filmed all but two plays of my football career, and one of the ones he missed had to be the play of my life. He was rewinding the pass interference to see if it was a good call.
Sigh… buddy. (I’ll never let him live that down 😉)
I never scored a touchdown my senior year, but with the interception technically, I did end up with the ball in my hands in the end zone. My dad and I had agreed I’d pay for my Nike cleats if I didn’t score that year; if I did, he’d buy them.
This play earned my cleats in his eyes.
We went into halftime down 14–12.
In the second half, the brilliance of our coaching staff, our discipline, and our football IQ showed. Normally a high-octane spread, no-huddle offense, we shifted to our “Black” package with two tight ends and two running backs and started pounding the rock. Whitefish wasn’t ready, and we evened the score.
I caught a 40-yard pass — the longest catch-and-run of my career — to set up the go-ahead score. A two-point conversion made it 20–14. We continued to stymie their offense and scored one more time.
The final drive went 98 yards and burned the clock.
Final: 27–14.
We were one of four teams to advance to the quarterfinals.
As the competition ramped up, I started peaking. On defense, the interception plus several tackles. On offense, I finally stopped thinking and just played — finishing with 6 catches for 61 yards in that game.
For context:
First 7 games of the year: 6 catches for 57 yards
Last 2 games: 12 catches for 135 yards
The game progressively slowed down. I was in flow.
Record: 8–1.
Four teams eliminated, eight remained.
Quarterfinals –
at Miles City
A 400-mile, 6+ hour road trip to Miles City, Montana. The furthest east I’ve ever been in my home state. It might as well be the edge of the earth.
Miles City had a first-round bye after going 7–1 and winning the East. They were a group of grown-ass men. Big across the board. Their offensive line was all over 6 feet and 200+ pounds.
They ran an I-formation triple option and averaged almost 300 rushing yards per game. Their quarterback, running back, and fullback were a three-headed monster.
On paper, we were outmatched. But you couldn’t ever count out a blue-collar team like ours. Not once were we intimidated.
The key on defense: play disciplined and strong.
A David vs. Goliath, blow-for-blow game unfolded.
No one scored until the second quarter. Their defense shut down our passing game with pressure and blitzes. Our defense battled in the trenches and hit hard.
Their run-heavy offense lulled DBs to sleep, then would sneak a pass over the top. They tried it once — like usual, I was in position and knocked the pass down.
At halftime: 7–7.
The second half was a defensive slugfest. Series after series, punt after punt.
As a punt returner in the third quarter, I lined up deep. Vez stood on the sideline even with me and the other returner. As the ball was snapped and punted, we tracked it; Vez would yell “FAIR!” for a fair catch or “TAKE IT!” if the coast was clear.
Punt in the air. I moved right under it and heard:
“TAKE IT!”
Play on.
I caught the ball in stride and took it 35 yards down the sideline, weaving through traffic into Cowboy territory. A couple of plays later, I caught a screen pass and took it 15 yards to the 3-yard line. Tucker Vezina punched it in on the next play.
Miles City scored again in the third. The fourth quarter was more trading punches, no one giving an inch. They attempted a 42-yard field goal and came up short.
At 14–14, we headed to overtime.
In the first OT, Miles City got the ball first and tried to pound it in. On third down, the quarterback rolled out and got sandwiched by our D-lineman Harley Borjas and safety Chance Plutt. The ball popped out, and I was there to recover it in the end zone for a touchback.
We ran three straight plays to set up a field goal, but the kick was blocked.
Second overtime.
We had the ball first on the opposite end. Three passes later, Wide Recevier Kris Keller mossed two defenders in the end zone for a touchdown. We hit the extra point.
Miles City answered with a rushing touchdown and extra point.
21–21.
Third overtime.
The atmosphere was electric. Fans stood behind the end zone screaming. As we set up on defense, actual grown men were talking shit to us. Wild to be chirped by a bunch of has beens.
The Cowboys started with the ball. Four plays later, our undersized, disciplined, technically-sound defense stuffed them on fourth down for a turnover on downs.
Three plays later, we moved just enough to set up another field goal attempt. With adjustments after the earlier block, our line held strong, and quarterback/flat toe shoed kicker Zach McRae kicked it through.
Final: 24–21 in triple overtime.
We moved to 9–1, stole home-field advantage, and advanced to the semifinals.
It was an emotional, gritty win. No quit. No flinch.
Postgame, after multiple tackles and passes defended at corner, one catch for 15 yards on offense, and a big punt return, I was selected as one of two Wheat Montana Players of the Game.
Four more teams eliminated. Four advanced.
It was clear: our team was fearless, peaking, and locked the fuck in.
Semifinals –
vs Belgrade
Having dethroned Miles City, we hosted Belgrade High School at home.
The Panthers were another big, physical group with legit athletes. They ran a run-heavy Wing-T offense, averaging 300 rushing yards per game. Their fullback was a college commit and their bell cow. They beat Sidney at home in the first round and number one seed Polson in the quarters, taking a similar road to ours and coming in at 9–1.
One thing I hate about Dillon, Montana: the wind.
It affected us in the first round and was a big factor again in the semis.
Our passing offense struggled more with the wind than with Belgrade’s defense. Combine the two and it was a slog of a first half.
Our defense battled. On the first play of the game, they tried to pick on me, throwing to my side for a mismatch. I made a solid tackle — little to no gain. My whole game was about position and leverage. I didn’t care how big or strong you were; I was strong and technical enough to go low and wrap up.
The Panthers finally scored after the wind turned one of our punts into a 15-yarder, giving them a short field.
7–0 at half.
The start of the second half wasn’t better. An interception gave Belgrade more good field position. They scored again and missed the extra point: 13–0.
I’ll never forget: during a Belgrade offensive drive, they announced the score of the other semifinal game over the loudspeaker. The only team that had beaten Belgrade in the regular season was Butte Central—and Butte Central was losing their semifinal.
The Belgrade kids started celebrating on the field, as if they had already won this game.
It took me a second to realize what they were reacting to. Our team wasn’t thinking about the other game. We were focused on the task at hand.
Even down 13, I remember thinking: They have no idea what’s coming. This game isn’t over.
Right after that, our offense started firing.
We mixed runs and passes, and Keller caught an over-the-shoulder touchdown to make it 13–7.
A few drives later, I got into a rhythm — three big catches (I led the team with 5 for 43 yards that day) to set up another Tucker Vezina touchdown run. We missed the extra point: 13–13 in the fourth.
We drove again and junior Spencer Jenne caught a tight-window pass from McRae for a score.
20–13.
Belgrade started throwing, dinking and dunking down the field in desperation. A big contested catch put them on our 3-yard line.
We lined up nose-to-nose in a red zone battle. Their fullback took the handoff. Senior D-lineman Nate Child hit him and threw him off balance. Sophomore linebacker Jackson Bertram blasted him, popping the ball free. The fullback sprawled out on top of the pile and rolled the ball out on top of the scrum.
That’s when I pounced on it.
For a split second I thought about sprinting downfield, but Andy shoved me down into the pile. Smart play.
Still 20–13. We now had to get out of our red zone and bleed the clock.
Enter the “Black” formation veer offense.
At one point, we went for it on 4th down deep in our own territory. During the timeout, Coach Thomas looked into the huddle and basically said:
“This is it. If we convert, we win.”
Our offensive line nutted up, and Tucker converted the 4th-and-2 on pure strength. Every single one of us just had to whip the guy in front of us. All 11 did.
Another close win. We were playing for each other, every player contributing, everyone doing his job with pure belief.
Two teams remained for the State Championship:
The Dillon Beavers
And the only team that had beaten us in the regular season… Frenchtown
at Frenchtown -
Any other team and Dillon would have hosted the State Championship Game. But because of the previous meeting, Frenchtown owned the head to head tiebreaker to host.
It was a foggy, wet morning in Frenchtown, MT.
Big weekend of Montana football: state title games and the Brawl of the Wild (Cat-Griz game). We had the best showing of the day.
Before the game, they announced the starters for each team. When my name was called and I jogged over, I met up with Brian Lebsock, Frenchtown’s starting quarterback and safety.
As we shook hands, I looked up at him and said:
“I told you we’d see you again.”
Game on.
Frenchtown was legit, just like us. They had culture, legacy, and coaching. And the dudes came out swinging.
We were prepared, but we were getting beat. The Broncos took a 7–0 lead in the first.
They had their Division I, eventual NFL tight end, Steven Phaler, as their receiving X-factor in a reverse wishbone, run-heavy offense. He torched us in the regular season and had another good game in the championship.
During practice that week, I was dialed. I kept batting down passes and getting interceptions. Mid-week, our defensive coordinator Rick Nordahl told me I would be the one following Phaler — me at 5'5" on him at 6'4".
We’d stack a linebacker on him at times to chip, but mostly, he was my responsibility.
When he wasn’t on my side, he made a few plays. Frenchtown went up 14–0 at halftime.
We finally got on the board in the third: 14–7.
As the fourth quarter started, Frenchtown scored again with 8:33 left. Then came the pivot.
They lined up for the extra point........ and missed.
As we ran off the field, fellow receiver and captain Chance Plutt was bouncing, saying:
“They missed! We’re going to win this game! We’re going to win!”
Funny thing is — I thought the same thing.
Then the magic happened.
Our hurry-up offense sparked. We stormed downfield for a touchdown and extra point.
20–14. 5:29 left
Our defense — like it always did — showed why it wins championships and got us the ball back.
Keller made a huge tiptoe, bobble catch down the sideline. I caught a screen for nine yards. We punched it in on three runs and hit the extra point.
21–20.
The Broncos, with one minute left and in desperation mode, tried to move the ball. On the first play, I tipped a pass just enough for an incompletion. Harley Borjas batted the 2nd down pass in the ground. On 3rd down, they went to 6’4” Phaler. I was in position and went over his back getting a hand on the ball, and with help from linebacker Jake McGinley, we knocked the pass away and Phaler to the ground.
4th down jump ball, Keller swatted their last attempt to the turf for a turnover on downs.
A couple kneel-downs later… we did the unthinkable.
We won State.
Final record: 11–1
I finished my final high school game with 3 pass deflections and tied with Nate Child for most tackles in the game with 11. Offensively, 2 catches for 19 yards.
As I reflect on that season and my high school career and senior year — 20 years later — I can’t help but be proud. It’s hard to put into words, honestly.
This wasn’t a team of stars. We had some main characters for sure, but this was a textbook team championship.
Everyone did their job in a selfless way. We had chemistry. Culture. Belief. Worked hard. Were resilient. No quit. That's what it means to be a Dillon Beaver.
Not all of us liked each other or hung out off the field, but on the field we were (and are) brothers because of this experience.
For me, that time proved that hard work and determination pay off. You really can manifest your dreams. As a little kid, I used to envision making plays on the football field. The reality never quite matches the vision, but in a lot of ways, it turns out better.
As a team, we finished as the first State Championship team with a loss in school history (’00 and ’03 teams were 11 – 0). Offensively we finished number 1 in school history in Total Offense per game (385.9 yards per) and Passing yards (248 per game) and 4th in all time scoring. Defensively, despite being the reason we won our Championship, we were 6th and 7th in a few categories respectively. Bend, don’t break embodied.
Individually, on defense, I was selected as a 2nd Team All-Conference Cornerback posting 51 tackles (17 solo); which was good for 10th in assisted and 6th for solo on the team for the season. As well, 2 Interceptions and 2 fumble recoveries (both tied with 2 others for 1st on the team).
On offense, what started as a disaster turned into something I’m proud of. After beginning the year with 6 catches and 3–4 drops in 7 games, I finished tied for second on the team with 27 receptions. Yardage ended with 255. That catch performance was good for 12th All-Time in Dillon Beaver history in a single season and my overall Varsity performance from 2003 – 05 was tied for 11th All-Time with Torin Roschinger (1999 – 2000).
On special teams, I returned 2 kicks for 24 yards and 7 punts for 70 yards. The number of punt returns was 2nd on the team and 12th All-Time in Beaver history for a single season.
Funny enough, Spencer Jenne and I spent all season practicing returns together, talking about how we both felt we should be starters in the return game. It wasn’t until the state championship that we finally stood next to each other back deep.
But guess what, Spence? We did it.
I'm sure all of my record book performances are out of the top 15 in Beaver history. But for that era, I'm pretty damn proud to have been in any conversation in terms individual performance. My goal was always to contribute on a team that won a Title above anything else.
This year taught me the core operating system I still use in life:
Games are won in practice. During the week, in the weight room, in conditioning.
They’re won in the details. Rest, recovery, film study, proper technique, play execution.
The game is just the showcase. It’s the time to show off all the work. (And yeah, it’s ok to flex a little every once in a while. Good for the ego and the soul 😉)
It doesn’t matter your size or your natural abilities. What matters is how you feel about yourself and what you truly believe you’re capable of.
Winning is hard at any level.
In Montana, if you look across Class AA down to Class C 6-man (roughly 220 teams), the odds of winning a state title are around 4.5%.
That’s special.
The odds of winning two state titles in a Montana high school football career? Around 0.6%.
That’s elite.
Extrapolate that across the U.S., and you get roughly a 3% chance of ever winning a title.
No matter the level, what we did isn’t something many people get to experience.
And it all started with silence… and the belief that motivation and focus come from within.
The rest is just noise.
-- Alex de Golia
- Epilogue -
To the 33 players on the roster, the coaching staff, trainers, cheerleaders, and band; wherever you are in the world now: thank you for making this moment as special as it was.
Rest in peace to my teammate Ben Quay, who passed away in 2024, and to Coach Steve Vezina, who passed away from cancer in 2018. It was a privilege and an honor to be on this run with you. It’s a moment I’ll always hold dear.
I’m sure some people reading this might feel like I can’t let go of the game or that I’m living in the past. And to an extent, that’s true — I do hold this moment close, and I did have a hard time unwinding football from my identity.
But the truth is, high school football was just the first of many championships in my life.
I didn’t peak in high school — I’m peaking as I go.
This season was a microcosm of life. There are wins and good times that come from discipline, hard work, and belief.
There are losses and heartbreak. And then there’s the opportunity that lives inside every setback.
What do you do with that loss?
How do you use it?
Where do you go next?
The 2005 team took that final loss and turned it into a historic postseason run. None of those playoff games started well. But what did we do?
We battled.
We believed.
We focused.
We persevered through every situation.
We relied on our technique, trusted our coaches and each other, and we willed our way to every win. We earned every bit of that season’s success.
And if that’s not a blueprint for how to move through life…....
I don’t know what is.
Forever Champions