Coach Chuck Sundeen...and that 14-7 football win over Gaylord, 40 years ago
by Dana Melius
Coach and football were one and the same around these parts for decades. As we've oozed into the gridiron season, the memories of Charlie should not fade. They will, of course, as nearly always seems the case as loved ones leave us. But this fall marks the 40th anniversary, for god's sake, of old Winthrop High School's 14-7 football victory over those feared and fabled Gaylord Spartans. So, the memories remain.
Coach Sundeen died Thursday, April 10. He had not been well for some time, most recently living at Oak Terrace Assisted Living in Gaylord. He was 74 and had not treated his body well through the years. I last saw Coach a couple months before he died; it was the first time since I met him initially in the fall of 1971 that Charlie didn't recognize me. But he still had that formidable handshake. I'll always remember that about Coach. That firmness was in part because he was a powerful man in his day and that grip never left him.
But the real reason for that firm handshake, I believe, was because Charlie was always glad to see you, always glad to visit and reminisce. Coach had gone through a lot in his days, some good, some bad. Like most of us. Charlie's bad days were really bad; his good days were often football related. He was one of the most sincere, complicated, talented, compassionate and crazy son-of-a-bitch I'd ever encountered. We were very close during my WHS days. And I loved him dearly.
Charlie gave me everything he had as a coach. He never thought it was enough, but for this young, aspiring athlete, Coach came in already a legendary presence and figure...and built on that. I was just a freshman-to-be for old Winthrop High School's Warriors that fall. My high school football coach from the previous season, Wayne Schrupp, had resigned and we awaited the arrival of this highly regarded collegiate assistant coach who had built quite the resume in his early years of high school coaching at Pequot Lakes. Assistants from St. Cloud State didn't come into Winthrop, a school with little football success, with a school-best record through the years of just 5-3-1 during the 1968-69 season.
Charlie vowed to change all that for old WHS, and -- little did I know at the time, he was going to put a bulk of that early burden on the shoulders of this lanky, 6-2, 160-pound freshman. In the fall of '71, I enjoyed football but didn't live and die it like Coach. Basketball and baseball were my loves, as well as sneaking in rounds of golf. Football was a distant fourth back then, if that. Track might have even been more to my suiting at the time.
As an eighth-grader, I had been moved up to serve as back-up quarterback to sophomore Randy Gustafson, a bull of a QB. I didn't like quarterback and blame close friend Brian Brigger for that painful, youthful season on varsity. Brian, one year older, didn't come out for football that fall because he knew he'd be varsity back-up and didn't think he was ready. Neither of us were. In one clean-up game, I fumbled the snap from center eight straight times. Senior Dale Isaacson snapped it so damn hard one cold night that Coach inserted the more passive Tim Oakland the second series. But it didn't matter. It was cold, and I wanted to go home. That's gotta still be a state record.
Brian was back the fall of '71; Coach saw his potential early, moved Gustafson to fullback, and saved my soul. Still, Charlie had plans for me. I started at cornerback as a freshman, with close friend Dale Reed on the other corner. Dale, a senior, drew the opposition's best receivers, so it made my life easier but Dale's somewhat miserable. On offense, I filled in at halfback or end, playing mostly when older players went down with injuries. I ended up holding for extra points. And punting.
We punted a lot that fall. One sailed 72 yards at Gaylord, through the end zone, but it didn't matter. The Spartans crushed us, just like they did every year. Three more years of punting and I never launched one farther. But we also didn't punt as much after that. Charlie made us better. We didn't post winning records Coach's first two years at GFW, but one could see the program's growth. Kids wanted to play for Sundeen.
By the time Brigger was a senior, the Warriors went on to a school-best 7-2. Charlie was still demanding. I broke my ankle in the season's second-to-last game at Gibbon and was carried off the field in lots of pain. Trouble is, we didn't know it was broke, so Charlie still said I'd be punting and holding for extra points in the season finale vs. Springfield. I tried one punt, landing on that broken left ankle and said no more. Fine, but I'd still hold for PATs. Anybody could do that, Coach said. Even with a bum ankle. And classic Charlie, he called a fake kick and made me run wide right to try for two points. I was able to slide in ala today's wussy quarterbacks and said no more. Charlie half grumbled, half smiled but gave me the remainder of the game off.
To Charlie, the 7-2 season wasn't good enough because we lost to Gaylord. Still, to most of Winthrop, who never thought this would be a football town, Coach was a hero. And finally, other teams in the Tomahawk Conference took notice.
But Brigger and the Class of '74 left with lots of talent. My classmates were mostly unknowns and, frankly, there was not a lot of optimism as the season unfolded. It was that classic "rebuilding" season that was expected of us. Not from Charlie.
On the first play from scrimmage in the season opener, a Norwood-Young America running back went about 60 yards off right tackle for a touchdown. As defensive captain at middle safety, I bitched loudly at the guys but found that left-side linebacker Les Werner had suffered a concussion on the kickoff and was clueless that play. The NYA back had gone right through his zone, and Les was babbling nonsense. But my thoughts already went to, "Man, this could be a long season."
Charlie's practices did, indeed, make for a long season. He would sometimes perch atop the baseball light tower platform and run "one more play." Those marathon practice sessions often pissed us off, as well as fellow coaches, parents looking for their kids, administrators and -- of course -- bus drivers waiting to take home student-athletes. For Charlie, we were athletes first, then students. Actually, we were simply football players. His.
But these practices served an important purpose. First, Sundeen conditioned us hard in pre-season. We all dreaded those because, in those days, all summer was dedicated to simpler things, like baseball and golf. We needed those first two weeks to get back into shape. We knew it; Coach knew it. More so, Charlie lived and died football. You could see it and feel it. And it morphed into our souls.
That's how Coach turned things around at old WHS. Football not only became important again, it reigned. Football success under Sundeen meant a school year started off with a bang. And that success transformed over to other sports. Coach was making the Warriors relevant once again.
And nothing could put Winthrop High School back on the sports map more than a football victory over fabled Gaylord. The Spartans had dominated the Tomahawk Conference landscape -- and, particularly, Winthrop -- forever it seemed. Gaylord had defeated Winthrop in football for 31 straight years. Imagine that. Since 1943, long before the current crop of Warriors were born, Gaylord beat us up. I was like most Warrior football players, growing up knowing of Gaylord's dominance.
But on October 11, 1974, that all changed. We had already lost twice during the season -- a 16-11 defeat to a strong, first-year entry, Mountain Lake, which sent their monster lineman on to the NFL; and a 20-12 upset in Fairfax. Some blamed that loss on Charlie's insistence that we practice before the game at Fort Ridgely, then show up just prior to game time. I hated that approach, but the more one complained to Coach about it, the closer he cut it. Thankfully, it was just seven miles to Gaylord...with no Fort.
But through those first six games of the '74-75 season, our rebuilding season had also changed. We became pretty darn good. My fellow seniors improved, and with the addition of tackle Jim Sanders returning from reform school, we were becoming feared. Jim's reputation throughout the conference grew by word-of-mouth, at a time when there was not much media coverage. Word had it that Sanders had actually returned from prison, and his long, bushy hair was a menacing look. It didn't hurt either that in a 34-2 whooping of Morton, Sanders chased a dirty opponent lineman 50 yards downfield before catching him in the end zone and landing some punches. Jim's only regret, he told me after the game, was not removing the Morton player's helmet. I loved playing football with Jim and my senior buddies who hadn't been expected to repeat the previous year's 7-2 mark.
And at 4-2 and staring at favored Gaylord the next week, many doubted we would. However, we dominated the Spartans that warm fall night in Gaylord, but led just 14-7 in the fourth quarter. Gaylord's lone score came when me and teammate Jim Youngblom collided going for an interception, freeing the Spartan receiver for a long score, tying the game for a time. You could sense the fear of Warrior fans. But burly sophomore fullback Bob Bussler and brother Tom, a junior halfback, carried the load on the ground. Sundeen was wise throughout the game, spelling the Busslers with senior backs Youngblom and Mark Trebelhorn, wearing down the Gaylord defense.
As the clock ticked down, Winthrop fans in the hundreds roared. Our rebuilding effort had not only surprised the locals, it ended the curse. I remember 1974 WHS graduate Kevin Lindstrand, who had moved on to play collegiate football at Gustavus, leaping into my arms and knocking me down. We had lost something like 40-0 the previous year, when we were loaded.
The post-game celebration was nuts. Fire trucks met us at the Bernadotte turnoff and led us into Winthrop. Fans gathered at the WHS auditorium and treated us like royalty. And we were for a time. You had to grow up in Winthrop at the time and then wear a football uniform to understand what beating Gaylord meant to this community.
And Coach Sundeen soaked it all in. His legend grew. We went on to win our final two games over Wabasso and Sleepy Eye by a 59-0 margin. I ended my football career with five interceptions against Sleepy Eye, which still stands tied for a state record, as I remind my family from time to time. And I owed my four years of growth and team play to Charlie. Not those practices, but to his insistence on perfection and will. We weren't perfect, but damn we tried.
At his funeral, a former Gaylord assistant coach, Mike Quist, greeted me in the Peace Lutheran Church reception hall. I had not seen him since the days Gaylord and Winthrop had merged football programs. I had helped with pre-season workouts; Mike and Charlie became assistants under another coaching legend, Dave Main. Mike and Dave smiled and immediately brought up that 14-7 Winthrop victory. And Mike remembered the same two plays that I did -- a well-timed end reverse that sprung me (and lead blocker JC Chrest, a great center) for a game-clinching 50-yard gain; and my interception of a wobbly halfback pass. I was burnt bad on that play, but the Warrior pass rush by Sanders, Brian Gutknecht, Jeff Bussler and Johnny O'Brien rushed the throw and saved me. (O'Brien was the meanest 140-pound defensive guard on the planet, but that's another story.)
Mike loved Coach. Both had similar loves and demons. That seemed to bond the two men, Mike traveled from northern Minnesota to send Charlie off and talk football one more time.
Charlie went on to other football successes, including a state championship with the Gibbon-Fairfax-Winthrop Thunderbirds in 1989. But that Gaylord win, I've always contended, might have been even bigger and more important. In the '74-75 season, there were limited playoffs. You had to win the conference to go on in this complicated computer point system. Newbies Mountain Lake went on as the Tomahawk representative, going 8-1. The rest of us only played eight conference games that year, and Gaylord complained loudly, as the loss to Winthrop left the Spartans a half-game back in second.
At Coach's funeral, I was surprised no one stood up and talked about that Gaylord victory in the fall of '74. For those of us who played in Charlie's early years, we recalled it. But memories fade, new ones emerge, and time flies by. Those of us touched by the crazy ways and style of Coach Sundeen will never forget him.
And that's a good thing.
Cutlines
Top: Charlie's obituary picture at his April 19 funeral service.
Second: The 1970s Coach look.
Third: Coach Sundeen and close friend and Winthrop roommate Dale Reed, with cherished banjos.
Fourth: The 1975 annual picture. Coach with tri-captains (me, Brian Gutknecht and Mark Trebelhorn)
Fifth: Charlie earning his 100th career win while at GFW.
Finally: Charley's wild side, one of many.
But it's more than just the amazing, restored old cars that draws them in to Henderson. It's an old-fashioned fun night that one rarely sees in these parts any more. It's a historic Main Street that has taken to preservation like few others. And it's about a vibrant leadership network that doesn't slow down and constantly is thinking both outside the traditions of small town and in a bold, "can-do" attitude.
But this is special in so many other ways. Henderson discovered its niche long before its Chamber of Commerce began encouraging classic car enthusiasts and bikers to come to town. Historic preservation of Henderson's Main Street, along Hwy. 19, and the revitalization of the community's educational roots helped springboard this growing excitement and pride of small-town living. Henderson is what small-town, rural life should be about -- a commitment to education, civic engagement and volunteerism, and a renewed desire for a simpler way.
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