Still Stading Strong

In terms of appearance, the Blockhouse is as basic as a quarterback sneak, with an exterior comprised of bricks painted gray and an interior design altered by whatever new mess has been made. Yet to Rebel Nation, this monument to gridiron simplicity epitomizes character and tradition. It is a place where triumphs have been noisily celebrated and where gut-wrenching losses have turned the building pin-drop quiet. It's a place of prayer, a place for family. Win or lose, Roncalli students, parents and fans file into the Blockhouse to absorb whatever emotions the players and coaches are experiencing. Having covered his first Roncalli football game in the mid-1980s and many after that, VYPE's Mike Beas seemed the logical choice to strike up a conversation with the Blockhouse. Upon arriving, Beas notices the blue door being held open by a 70-pound dumbbell. Hints of rust reveal the weight might be a good 15 years beyond its bench-pressing prime. A few steps later, he comes across a 50-pound dumbbell. Actually, half of one. State-of-the-art the Blockhouse is not. But neither Roncalli, nor its storied football program, would be the same without it. Beas: I must say, your exterior has held up remarkably well given the decades of combating elements. Blizzard of '78 and all that kind of stuff. (Sniff, sniff). One question. What is that smell as you walk inside? The Blockhouse: Dude, that's tradition. Lots of blood, a river of sweat and too many tears to count have landed on this cement floor, dating back to when the Beatles were still together. Remove the smell and you take away a portion of what makes Roncalli special. Beas: Seriously. You're 46 years old, same as me. Stop using the word, 'Dude.' The Blockhouse: Sorry. Slipped into surfer mode there for a second. I just got through with summer, you know. Golf, sunscreen, girls and - Beas: And the start of another football season. Speaking of which, is there a chance you'll soon be putting a roof over the helmets and shoulder pads of the program's ninth state champion? The Blockhouse: Difficult to say. We were 3-7 last year, but a lot of very good players are back. We'll find out early how good we are with road games against Southport and Franklin Central before hosting Ch . . . Cha . . . I can't say it. Beas: Chatard? The Blockhouse: Yeah. Those guys. Beas: Geez. Glad Game 3 isn't against Cathedral. The Blockhouse: No kidding. Beas: This is changing the subject, but whose picture and No. 26 jersey are framed and hanging over there on the east wall? The Blockhouse: That's Jonathan Page. He was a talented running back who died in an automobile accident in 2002 not long after his sophomore season. Coach Bruce Scifres still frequently pauses to look at his picture, as do the players. Roncalli football is all about family. Once a Rebel, always a Rebel. Beas: Wow. That's powerful stuff. So is this section of wall entitled "The Prayer Wall." Is this where the team huddles before and after games? The Blockhouse: No. It's a place where players and coaches can write down names of a loved one who might be going through a tough time. Cool idea, huh? Beas: Yes. Can you remember any interior decorating ideas that didn't pan out so well? The Blockhouse: Five years ago, maybe six, the seniors laid down some Astroturf, but it must not have been high-quality stuff. It tore and over time became more of an eyesore than anything else. Coach Scifres gives the seniors free reign when it comes to how this place looks, so every summer and fall it takes on that group's personality. Beas: Do Scifres and the other coaches ever get bent out of shape at the ridiculous number of fans hanging around you following a game, win or lose? I've covered prep games pretty much everywhere in Indiana and I've never seen anything like it. The Blockhouse: Dude, the man is the fifth of eight children. Growing up in Plainfield, coach Scifres lived in a house with one bathroom until he was in fifth grade. He's OK with crowds. Beas: What did I say about that word? The Blockhouse: Oops. When you're constantly in the presence of boys anywhere from 15- to 18-years old, you pick up bits and pieces of the language. Beas: Hey, just east of you, is that the RCA Dome's kid brother? The Blockhouse: No, they call it "The Bubble." Inside is a gymnasium facility and an area where all the weights I used to have here are now located. Personally, I think old Bub is all show. But Roncalli was the largest high school in Indiana with only one gym, so it had to do something. Beas: Times are changing. Ever fear they will replace you? The Blockhouse: I'm a Rebel. Fear isn't part of my vocabulary. Beas: Quite alright. Neither is Chatard. -