8-Man Football

And Rural Democrats

I married a football coach.

Our lives revolve around football from summer weights to the first practices in August to the last game around Thanksgiving. It’s 12-hour days every day except Saturday and Sunday, when it’s only a four-hour day to watch and dissect film.

It’s a lot.

My husband coaches because he loves football, and he loves the kids he coaches. He makes a difference because he is a solid figure who provides solid mentorship to young men who may need to see a solid man in action.

He lives and breathes the game.

Our youngest son, Carter. 2018.

Our three boys stepped off the field years ago, but we still have a middle schooler at home. She has no aspirations to play football, but she very much enjoys theatre and cheer and band and I am more than happy to drop the Aflac coverage we had to carry for years for the broken bones and concussions.

Bring on the tuba and poms.

I told you my husband coaches football, but I didn’t tell you he coaches 8-man football. 8-man is common in small, rural schools in Northwest Missouri. We play 8-man in these communities is for a couple of reasons: there often aren’t enough kids to field an 11-man team, and it is a rural tradition.

They even play 6-man football in a few states.

In 8-man, the field is shorter — only 80 yards. It is also narrower. The biggest adjustment for me is the scoring. Teams regularly score 70 or more points. There are six fewer players on the field at all times.

It’s easy to run up the score with a couple of good players, and it’s not uncommon to forfeit at halftime because of a massive score difference.

The game is fast.

It’s technically the same amount of time, but it moves so quickly. The ball doesn’t move at three or four yards a carry — someone gets the ball and he’s gone. If you don’t have anyone who can keep up with him, you could be staring down 60 points at halftime.

In regular football, you have safeties and cornerbacks. You play a zone — an area of the field, not a man. In 8-Man, most of the time you have a man, not a zone, and you’re on an island.

You are by yourself.

In 8-Man, if you’re up against a bigger or faster team, you are always robbing Peter to pay Paul. Constantly moving around your players to stop the offense. There is no safety roaming around the field. If you’re getting your butt kicked, that’s just your lot for four quarters.

You can get embarrassed quickly.

You may be wondering why I am explaining the rules of rural football to you, and it’s because it’s like a lot of rural things — it’s just a little different out here. The game looks similar, but it’s got its own rules.

I ran for the State House as a rural Democrat in 2022. It looked like any other race, but a rural race is not the same.

I ran because I was angry about a total abortion ban and school defunding. I was really angry when I realized there was no one coming to help. There were no Democrats on my down ballot.

How could we possibly make any headway, much less win, if no one is competing. With no one running?

We need rural Democrats to go to the State House and keep the bigger and faster Supermajority from doing whatever they want to the state.

To keep them from running over us. Dominating us.

I am a rural Democrat. When I ran for office, I was on my own.

It was man-to-man.

As a rural candidate, you can count on being lined up against someone who is bigger and faster and who has an entire Booster Club behind him. And the money to prove it.

Your opponent has a new uniform and a speed and agility coach. He has access to a state-of-the art locker room with strategies for managing injuries and mistakes — he has intensive coaching for any fumble. Massage therapy for bumps and bruises along the way.

And, these Republican teams can make you look like a fool. They can run up the score quickly. A Republican can beat you by 60 points.

He also plays dirty. Punches you in the gut while you’re on the bottom of the pile fighting for the ball.

The Republican fans can be especially cruel. Ruthless. Laughing and taunting while you take hit after hit. Screaming at you while you are down. Slandering you while you’re busy trying to pick yourself up.

The other team has the money to make the crowd go wild. Free concessions and t-shirts.

People will ask why you even bother to field a team in a rural area. If you can’t field enough people to compete with the big guys, why even try?

Because we may not have enough people to field a big team, but we have enough to play. Because we can’t win if we don’t play. Because things will never change if we step off the field and go home.

Rural Democrats don’t have the option to play zone — there are no safeties. We always play man-to-man. Rural Democrats are on their own.

They don’t have the advantage of fancy locker rooms or uniforms or specialized training. They rely on the people who show up for workouts and training. They make it work. They don’t have a choice.

Rural spaces have different rules, but we can learn to adapt. We’ve let the same team come in with money and boosters to wipe the field with the rest of us, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

We can’t forfeit at halftime anymore. We have to play beaten and bruised. We can lean on each other, even if it’s a tiny team.

The point is: we can field a team.

We can show up and play.

We can win when we compete.

Run. The. Ball.

~Jess

P.S. I am the Executive Director for Blue Missouri. We crowdfund red, rural races. We fund nominees in the most difficult races in the state. The reddest and toughest districts. We’ve been working since 2017 to claw our way back from autocracy in Missouri. We are building a bench of Democrats who will run in tough races.

I know what it’s like to be on my own. We fund rural races so nominees know they are not alone.

You can help us. Join us here.