By MONTE DUTTON

The Raiders and the Red Devils. The running of the game ball. Wreck the Raiders. Dunk the Devils. First meeting of the Touchdown Club. Fans rushing for vacant stadium seats as if they were going to build a homestead.

How altogether fitting that Friday is likely to be the hottest night of the year.

Last week, when I drove home from the Hillcrest-Laurens game – I like a short drive because it gives me time to think up a lead paragraph that satisfies me – about the only positive I gleaned from the game was I thought the crowd was damned impressive.

I know this rivalry. I played in it, watched it before and after, wrote about it, listened to it from a motel room in Michigan, and bounced it around in my noggin at least a thousand times. What happened in almost every instance was less memorable than how it felt. I can still feel in my posterior the Red Devil bus bumping over the railroad tracks near what used to be Bargain Fair. Back in antiquity, one reward of victory was singing and chanting all the way home. The first song I ever wrote was on a schoolbus, 20 years before I ever picked up a guitar at a pawn shop.

The stadiums, K.C. Hanna and Wilder, are much the same, though the Clinton venue has been tastefully upgraded in recent seasons. It’s a good thing that they don’t keep a wet-bulb thermometer in the Wilder Stadium hot box. It’s also a good thing that this year’s game is at K.C. Hanna. If this game was in Clinton, they’d have to start the game at 8 and the press box at 9.

Of course, I don’t go to press boxes anymore, and it’s not because I’d trudge arthritically up those concrete steps and be liquid and panting as I walked in. Up until about five years ago, I’d take photos of the first half, then walk the steps at halftime and take notes until the final two minutes, then walk back down, carefully, a little like being on stilts, to talk to the coaches and players.

Now I love the field. I know I’ll have a stats package in my email when I get home. On the sideline, I see the trees where, from above, I only get the forest. Down on the field, the chill bumps provide modest relief from the heat.

Last week, judging from the three high-school highlights shows I watched while writing, tinkering with photos and laying out stories on this site, the biggest game in these parts was Dorman at Greenville. I happen to know, because Furman University played games at Sirrine Stadium through 1980, that it holds 13,600 people. I bet there weren’t 2,500 people there.

Clinton-Laurens? It’s the same as 50 years ago. I was there then, and I’m going to be there now. On Friday night, I will love it more than anything in the world. If this game had a Ferris Wheel, no one would notice.

It brings people together even as it tears them apart. Anyone who thinks all small towns are just alike ought to give Friday night at K.C. Hanna a look.

What’s new? Last week I noticed that Laurens has acquired a horse.

Fifty years ago, before college and pro football violated a gentlemen’s agreement that Fridays be reserved for high schools, before cable, satellite, Netflix and HBO, some folks went to the games because there wasn’t much else to do but sit on the front porch, wait for the train to come by, watch people pass on the street and gossip.

Now they go because it’s the greatest show on this little outpost of earth. As these words are being written, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the junior-varsity game at stately Wilder Stadium outdraws the Dorman and Greenville varsities.

Thornwell is inexplicably opening its first season since 2007 with the first of consecutive road games in Calhoun Falls. Laurens Academy is playing at home against Richard Winn Academy. Good luck with that. They’ll get more attention next week.

All four teams brought a sample of their rosters to the Touchdown Club. They all looked like soldiers waiting to see if the weather would lift for D-Day.

Hardly anyone wearing anything but green jerseys over shoulder pads expects Laurens to win. It doesn’t really matter. An upset would be worth 10 lesser wins in the hearts and minds of the county’s upper half. The old movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington was on the other day. The central theme of that film is that lost causes are the ones worth fighting for.

The Red Devils will get off the bus standing tall and proud. They will take some consolation in it being devilishly hot. They will be in no mood for any foolishness from the other side. The Raiders will have their backs to the wall of their own stadium, all the while dreaming the impossible dream.

Regardless of what happens, I’d rather write about it than the Super Bowl, where I don’t know the kids and can’t afford the luxury.

This site, as long as it’s here, will be free. It’s good for the kids and the advertisers. There’s no room for many more advertisers. I would appreciate it, however, if you’d contribute a few dollars to keep it going, and I’ll add you to the blue-ribbon list of contributors. Send a check to DHK Sports, P.O. Box 768, Clinton, S.C. 29325, or make a monthly donation at the Patreon page.

Visit MonteDutton.net to take a look at the books I’ve written over the years. I’ve written novels about a musician, high-school football, political crime and corruption, stock-car racing, and, most recently, baseball. They’re inexpensive, whether ordered in paperback, or downloaded where you can read them in your phones or tablets.

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