Tom Sahli (top, last player on right), is joined by fellow inductees McKayla Bailey and Risen Johnson.
One physically towered over the crowd, while the other two soared up in the heavens on skill and passion alone.
Whether they were six-foot-three or not, the three superb athletes who form the 83rd class inducted into the Coupeville Sports Hall o’ Fame were game-changers and legend-makers.
So, let’s welcome old school hoops hotshot Tom Sahli, new school hoops terror Risen Johnson and the first great superstar of the era when I jumped from newspaper writing to blog ranting and raving — McKayla Bailey.
After this, you’ll find the trio hanging out at the top of the blog, under the Legends tab.
Today, we kick things off with Sahli, a giant from a time when basketball was played mostly below the rim.
A star on Coupeville High School basketball teams in the early ’50s, he went on to play college hoops at Pacific Lutheran University, where he and the rest of the Lutes who played between 1955-1959 are all enshrined in the school’s hall of fame.
Playing under legendary coaches Marv Harshman and Gene Lundgaard, PLU went 100-16 over that four-year span, finishing in the top three at the NAIA national tourney twice.
Sahli started at center for the Lutes varsity basketball squads while on campus, while also finding time to play (and star) on the school’s intramural football team.
While it’s hard to find a ton of info on his CHS days (did anyone keep their paper work and score books?!?), the mere mention of his name still draws raves, and a lot of credit goes to Orson Christensen, who first brought Sahli to my attention.
The other two inductees both played out their careers under my gaze, emerging as electrifying athletes and stellar people.
We got two years of Johnson dazzling us on the hardwood, and they were a wild ride.
The dude had a motor like few others, and rampaged from end to end like a man possessed, yet off the court was the laid-back, impeccably-dressed king of cool.
Put a basketball in his hands and his relative lack of size meant nothing, as he swooped, dove and darted, shredding hapless big men and leaving them flailing at where he had been.
Risen could put the ball in the bucket, from long range and slashing to the hoops, and he was a remarkably tough guy, bouncing off of bodies and the floor, quiet smile rarely leaving his face.
When he was out on the run, kick-starting the break, he was a thing of beauty.
You, me, the guy trying to get back on defense to guard him, sometimes even his own teammates didn’t know where Risen was going or what wonders he was about to lay down.
Johnson could zip laser passes between bodies, finding his teammate’s waiting fingers at just the right angle, or fake a guy out of his shoes, spin him around and bank home a runner like a ballet dancer with supreme hoop hops.
Even when he spun out of control, and the play didn’t go quite as he probably imagined, he was worth the price of admission and more.
If “entertainment” is not Risen’s middle name, it should be.
There have been a lot of good Wolf basketball players over the years, but were any as much of an edge-of-your-seat treat as Risen? I doubt it.
Win by 50, lose by 50, if he was on the floor, there was going to be a show and dang, it was fun to watch.
Our final inductee, Bailey, is already in the Hall as a contributor, for her peerless work as the one true Photo Bomb Queen. Today, though, she goes in for what mattered even more to her, the way she played the game.
A very talented athlete who battled through injuries, McKayla could do it all — basketball, volleyball, soccer (she went from newbie to starting goaltender in the blink of an eye) and, most of all, softball.
When she strode on to the diamond, Bailey was a beast, flinging heat and daring batters to try and dig in.
Her junior year, she took the ball every game, every inning, every pitch and carried the upstart Wolves to the state tourney, the first appearance by the team at the big dance in a decade-plus.
Put a bat in her hand and she would spray hits all afternoon, cracking moon shots to the wall or slicing wicked shots up the middle (or off of rival player’s arms and legs).
She was a terror on the base-paths, smart and enterprising and she was a deadly shortstop when not pitching, sprinting into the hole and firing balls like they were shot out of a cannon towards a patiently-waiting Hailey Hammer at first.
But it was the moments inside the pitcher’s circle, as she stalked around, slapping her glove against her leg, glowering at the batter over the top of her face-mask (when she wore it) and projecting an air of “I am gonna kick your fanny!!” when Bailey was supreme Bailey.
Off the field, in the dugout, at school, in the community, one of the most genuinely outgoing, supremely friendly, blazingly smart young women you will ever know.
But, on the field, a demon unleashed, and dang, the girl who grew from a “diaper dandy” to a seasoned vet, left every ounce of her soul and passion between the lines.
When she looks back at her high school career, it may not be perfect (injuries are a pain in more ways than one), but McKayla should be super proud of all she accomplished.
I know the rest of us are.
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