Another week, another drubbing. Montesano just “manhandled” Tenino 49-7, pushing their utterly dominant record against the Beavers to 8-2 since 2016. Is this high school football, or a repetitive, public humiliation designed for one team’s glory and another’s perpetual despair? The raw scoreboard doesn’t lie, but it rarely tells the whole, brutal story.
The Real Story: A Rivalry or a Routine Execution?
The official reports from Twin Harbors paint a cheerful picture of Montesano advancing with ease in the state tournament. But peel back the celebratory headlines, and you find a consistent, almost surgical dismantling of the Tenino Beavers year after year. Montesano’s overwhelming 49-7 victory wasn’t just a win; it was a cold, hard statement about a power dynamic that shows no sign of shifting. This isn’t a competitive matchup; it’s a predictable spectacle.
For years, the “pomp and circumstance” of a state-level game implies a clash of titans, a grueling, nail-biting battle for supremacy. Yet, for Tenino, these encounters against Montesano have devolved from hopeful contests into an annual exercise in showing up, absorbing the punishment, and then heading home. The narrative isn’t evolving; it’s stagnating. Montesano dictates the terms, executes flawlessly, and leaves Tenino to pick up the pieces, wondering what could have been – or more accurately, what never will be.
Consider the psychological toll. Eight losses in ten games against a single opponent over seven years isn’t just a statistic; it’s a mental barrier. It shapes expectations, not just for the players but for the entire community. When local sports become this lopsided, what does it truly mean for the spirit of the game, for the development of young athletes, and for the notion of fair competition?
“They preach about heart, about effort, about the ‘never say die’ spirit,” scoffed a veteran local scout, who demanded anonymity to speak freely. “But you can’t buy wins with spirit alone when the other side has systematically better athletes, better coaching, better facilities, and, let’s be honest, better funding. Tenino sells tickets for a game; Montesano is playing for state titles. There’s a fundamental difference in organizational ambition, and it’s screaming from the scoreboard every single time they meet.” The quote hangs heavy, suggesting a disparity far beyond the X’s and O’s.
Why It Matters: The Price of Predictability
This isn’t merely about wins and losses; it’s about the erosion of competitive integrity in high school athletics. When one team consistently dominates with such overwhelming margins, what message does it truly send? To the young hopefuls in Tenino, does it foster resilience, or does it quietly normalize defeat? Does it inspire them to strive harder, or does it teach them that some battles are simply unwinnable?
The financial impact, while not always obvious, is real. Ticket sales, local business patronage around game day – these thrive on competitive excitement. When the outcome feels predetermined, does fan engagement wane? Are fewer families choosing to invest their time and money in a spectacle that lacks genuine suspense? Perhaps they are, as the input ironically notes, seeking “other distractions,” like where to walk their dogs in Montesano, a stark contrast to the emotional investment demanded by a high-stakes football game.
Moreover, consider the long-term ripple effects on school pride, alumni engagement, and even student recruitment. A perpetually struggling program can affect morale across the entire school district, whereas sustained success like Montesano’s can become a powerful community unifier. This lopsided “rivalry” impacts far more than just the players on the field; it permeates the fabric of both towns.
The Bottom Line: A Call for Reckoning or Resignation?
If this pattern of overwhelming Montesano dominance continues unchecked, local football risks becoming less a dynamic contest of wills and more an annual coronation for one team, leaving the other to merely play out the clock. Tenino faces a crossroads: either enact a seismic, fundamental shift in their approach to athletics – from talent development to coaching philosophy and resource allocation – or risk cementing their status as a perpetual footnote in Montesano’s highlight reel. They are currently a consistent punching bag rather than a genuine challenger.
The question isn’t whether Montesano will win next time, but rather, by how much Tenino will lose. And more profoundly, what is the true, immeasurable cost to community spirit, competitive drive, and the very soul of local sports when one side routinely capitulates to the other? The silence after a Montesano victory isn’t just about the defeated team; it’s about the growing apathy towards a game that increasingly feels decided before the first whistle blows.
