almost everything short of murder is allowable." James Mooney,
anthropologist, in the late 1800s
Last summer, 45 teams played in the 9-day Choctaw World Series of
Stickball. On the final night, Beaver Dam and Conehatta, two bitter
rivals, fought for the championship in front of 5,000 fans and a
local television audience.
Stickball is an ancient, violent sport with few rules and defiantly
true to its Native American roots. Each summer, a tournament is
held to decide the champion of the game known as tolih in the Choctaw
Nearly 100 men in blood-red shirts, shorts and bandannas huddle
around their leader in a high school parking lot beneath the golden
glow of a floodlight.
"Big night!" shouts James Denson At a muscular 6-foot-3,
the 31-year-old Denson plays for Beaver Dam and is the team's star
"Do y'all want it bad?"
His team answered by banging together pairs of concrete-hard
hickory sticks with oblong netted loops at the ends.
The 200 or so sticks slamming together syncs up with a Choctaw
drummer pounding about 60 beats per minute. That's the tempo of
a healthy, beating heart at rest. And that is what the drumming
represents the game's heartbeat.
For centuries, tribes played tolih to settle disputes. In fact,
stickball was often called, "Little Brother of War." At
one time, Choctaw stickball imposed no limits on team size. Hundreds
of players could compete at once.
Tolih was brutal and is still known for violence. Players wear
no pads, no helmets and rarely shoes., Most veterans have multiple
scars, often cutting through eyebrows because the 32-inch sticks
tend to smack there.
For many, tolih is more than a game. "It's probably the
only thing we've kept as a cultural property," says Olin Williams,
59, who grew up in Mississippi and played the game.
tolih, two 12-foot-high wooden posts 4 inches wide stand at opposite
ends of the field. Points are earned when players, using their sticks,
or kobocca, hit the opposing post with the towa. A towa an egg-sized
ball wrapped in woven strips of deer hide or leather.
Thirteen referees officiated. If the ball sailed out of bounds,
a referee instantly threw out a new ball, so play never stops. But
the referees focused mostly on the 60 players --- 30 from each team
-- and on enforcing two rules: making sure players don't touch the
towa with their hands, and if they tackle someone, they drop their
The Beaver Dam drummer kept up his heartbeat patterns as the
game continued at a furious pace. Meanwhile, a 10-member medical
crew and two ambulances stood by.
"It's a good thing they hold [the tournament] once a year,"
said Allen Meely, an official for the tribe's Fire Department. "If
they played it year-round, the hospital might be full."
halftime the drummer, Jarrett Thomas, headed to his car and held
his drum against the heater to dry out. The deer hide had gone flabby
with the humidity. Thomas, 36, says the team needs his drum to be
dry and loud if it's going to make a comeback.
When play resumed, Beaver Dam got the ball on offense and Thomas
doubled his tempo -- 120 beats per minute.
"Like a heart beats faster, I guess," Thomas says.
In the end, Conehatta defeated Beaver Dam, 5-0.