by Brad Powless
December 2006
I am a lacrosse player. I live on the Onondaga Nation. It seems as though the two are synonymous here.
Like all the families at Onondaga, my family plays lacrosse too. As the spring snows melted, the fields next to the Longhouse were almost ready. There would be a game soon to give thanks to the special game that the Creator gave to us, Dehoñtjihgwa’es.
The French called our sport lacrosse for the stick we use. But the name we gave it, Dehontshigwiehs, is much more descriptive to the actions seen on the field, “They Bump Hips”. It’s a rough game.
My brothers Barry (’99 Canadian Hall of Fame), Neal (’06 Nazareth Hall of Fame) and I were always playing together. My older brother Barry taught us to always to have a stick in our hands. In those days it was strictly hickory and is was very important to make sure your pocket was always being adjusted for accuracy. We were always practicing how to net, restring or otherwise in constant work adjusting our stick. We learned that trusting your stick is just like trusting a good friend.
Barry also taught us about the best way to score. He felt the best way to learn the vulnerable spots for a goalie was to be a goalie yourself. Hot or steamy days, it didn’t matter. I put the gear on and try to stop his shots in the front yard. As he was shooting, Barry would talk about the best angles or how to get me out of position. Soon little brother Neal was old enough to get in the nets to lean how to be a scorer by stopping our shots. I learned an important lesson: that is sure great to have a little brother to practice on.
If played long enough, my father would be coming home from work and he would grab his stick and play too. My father, Irving Powless Jr. is a great defender. He would tell stories about playing against the big men from Seneca country. My father was 145 pounds wet but when playing the Creator’s game, we are taught that size doesn’t matter. Heart and determination is a better measuring stick of a lacrosse player. So the last thing my father would hear from his goaltender was, “Hold you position at all costs!” So he did
So there we are in the front yard, my father (’04 CNY Fall of Fame) standing between us and the goal. My father standing between you and a goal wasn’t a good thing. I heard the stories of when Syracuse University, Roy Simmons and Jim Brown (in his pink Cadillac) came to Onondaga to play. Just like in my front yard, there stood my father between a charging Jim Brown and the goalie. So like many of the opponents that faced my father, Jim Brown ended up on his back. They bumped hips.
My father learned how to check from his father Irving Powless Sr. (’02 CNY Hall of Fame). My grandfather played pro box lacrosse for the Syracuse Red Devils and the Geneva Iroquois in the 1930’s. One of the rules of the time was that you must have one foot on the floor at all time when checking, apparently to stop midair collisions. My grandfather adapted, he learned to jump and drag his foot as he flew threw air to hip checked his opponents into the boards. My grandfather, loved to play the game and like so many of members of our community, would travel anywhere to see a game.
So my brothers and I would begin our game in the face off circle, my mom’s flowerbed. The winner of the draw would use the trees as picks trying to get around each other. We then would get into an opening to shoot on the goal, a painted square on the side of porch, when my dad would show us how to defend: we bumped hips.
We played hard because that is how the game is supposed to be played, your best against your opponent’s best. The Creator has given every one of us a talent. On the lacrosse field there are many different talents and it is the testing of these talents is why we love the game that the Creator gave to us. Whether we are playing in our front yard, next to the Longhouse, at the box, in the arena, in LaFayette, under the Dome or wherever our game takes us, we play to please the Creator.
Our family is just like to other families on the Nation. The Thomas, the Shenandoah’s, the Hills, the Cornelius’s, the Pierces, the Doctors, the Lyons, the Gibson’s, the Bucktooth’s, the Abrams, the Lazore’s, the Benedicts and the Jones all have their stories. We all play with our older and younger brothers and our relatives. We are always talking about the last game, the next game and best of all, a game long ago. We all know that this game is apart of us.
And of course, we all cherish our first hickory stick.
Mine was smooth, taped, repaired, and of course handed down from my father. I loved that stick. It led me down a familiar journey of the Onondagas. A journey of playing Dehoñtjihgwa’es for the Creator.
Dane’tho’,
Brad Powless