Scott Hilborn, ready to inflict some damage. (Photo by JohnsPhotos.net)
Give him the ball and let him go to work.
Scott Hilborn, like his brother Matt before him, was remarkably self-contained, or at least seemed that way to those watching his exploits from the cheap seats.
Steve and Wendi’s youngest son wasn’t one for hollering or screaming, for drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
Eyeballs may have followed Scott’s every athletic achievement, but it was earned.
At the heart of it, he seemed cut from a different generation — the one which used to go work on prairie farms before and after games.
Old school in a new school world, Scott wasn’t overly fancy, and I mean that in the best way possible.
He clocked in, and then clocked you out.
Whether separating a runner from his mouth guard with a lethal, yet legal hit, or slicing through the defense on one of his own torrid runs, Scott played football like every play mattered.
No awkward post-sack dances or elaborately choreographed end zone celebrations.
Do your job, get up and be ready for the next rumble, every movement designed for maximum impact.
On offense, he was a weapon of mass destruction, able to chew up yardage (and score frequent touchdowns) off of pass receptions, runs, and kick returns.
Outrunning the setting sun. (Bailey Thule photo)
Scott never seemed all that fast until the moment when he turned the corner and was suddenly gone, streaking across the grass as the setting sun attempted (and failed) to catch up to his lethal movements.
In that, he was a whole lot like Jake Tumblin or Josh Bayne, two of the best to ever lace up their shoes and pull on a Wolf helmet.
Joining up with fellow seniors Dominic Coffman and Tim Ursu, Scott formed a triple threat which annihilated rival defenses in 2022 as Wolf football reached heights not seen in three decades.
A league title. A ticket to the state tourney, with a home game (in Oak Harbor) to boot.
That success was built on the effort of players like Scott — in the weight room, on the practice field, and in play after play under Friday Nights Lights.
He was a leader in a way the men who wore the same uniform in the ’50s and ’60s would have appreciated.
Parts of the game have certainly changed — rule tweaks, equipment improvements, and the like — but one thing remains consistent.
The young man who hits the hardest, then gets back up and ignores the pain, the sweat, and the bright lights to do it again, and again, and again, is the one we remember.
And few swung the hammer like Scott did.
It was a trait which carried over to the baseball diamond, where he finished his CHS run playing for his father.
The man, the myth, the ready-for-a-museum-wall legend. (Wendi Hilborn photo)
An ace pitcher, a slick-fielding (and power-hitting) shortstop, sometimes even a rock-solid catcher, Scott could play any position on the field and dominate.
Plug him into any hole, slap him on any rung in the batting order, and he was the most-dangerous dude on the diamond.
Most days he hit leadoff, reaching base at an often-uncanny rate via hits, walks, and wearing pitches while acting like the rival hurler was throwing mush balls.
We heard the crack of ball hitting muscle in those moments, but Scott didn’t flinch in public, merely ambling down to first, before promptly stealing second and third before his dad had time to inquire as to how his incoming bruise might be feeling.
Teams tried to pitch around him at times, but he always seemed to find a way to counteract their best efforts.
And groove a pitch to him, or at least offer up a ball remotely close to his strike zone?
Start running, because the horsehide was about to be deposited into the deepest, darkest corners of the field.
Scott might not have been the hardest thrower to ever prowl the mound at CHS, but he was consistent in a way which recalled greats who came before him — young men like CJ Smith, who also led his squad to a league title.
If you’re noticing a trend here, when comparing what the younger Hilborn brought to the game, gridiron or diamond, the names popping up are all guys who left behind a sizable impact on Coupeville sports history.
He can stand with those greats, and yet carved his own remarkable story — a testament to why Scott, like those others, will hear his name invoked for years to come when old men ramble on about how they don’t make ’em like they used to.
Tearing up the diamond alongside Jonathan Valenzuela. (Morgan White photo)
As he closed his prep career in the spring of 2023, he gave mom Wendi (his most faithful, fervent fan) one more chance to beam from the stands.
Facing down Toledo, a huge favorite, he tossed a complete game shutout in a 3-0 Wolf win, guiding Coupeville to its first victory at the state baseball tourney since 1987.
While accounting for two of those three runs, coming around to score after getting aboard on an error and a walk.
Scott followed that up by smashing an RBI single off of future Major League Baseball draftee Zach Swanson of Toutle Lake in a season-ending loss in the quarterfinals.
He reached base four times during Coupeville’s day at the state tourney — the best showing of any Wolf hitter.
Which was hardly a surprise, as Scott led his team in 16 of 21 stat categories during his senior campaign.
Before he graduated, he racked up league MVP honors in both of his sports, earned an invite to the All-State baseball feeder game, and shared Coupeville’s Male Athlete of the Year award with Tim Ursu, the other hardest-working man in Cow Town.
Today, Scott joins an impressive list of Wolf overachievers in cementing their status as one of the best to ever do it on the prairie.
The doors to the Coupeville Sports Hall o’ Fame swing open, and Matt’s lil’ bro, a star in his own right, earns his rightful induction into the club.
After this, you’ll find the Hilborn brothers two places.
In real life, they’re probably out working (and outworking) everyone in sight, while in our digital fever dream, they’ll be camped out at the top of the blog, up under the Legends tab.
In either place, one thing is certain — they’ll be making mom super proud.
Time to go to work. (Photo by JohnsPhotos.net)
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