Photo Essays

Friday Night Lights- September 22, 2026

I have always loved Friday night high school football. The sound of pads and helmets colliding. The cool autumn air settling over the field. The bright lights illuminating the night sky. I even have fond memories of the blistering heat of two-a-day practices and the sound of our coaches screaming into the abyss.

Back in high school, our team, the Coudersport Falcons, was the team to beat. As a sophomore in 2001, I had the privilege of being part of a team that won the District 9 championship against Curwensville. I played defensive tackle in front of my brother, who was a linebacker. We played so well together that the following week, we both started in the opening round of the state playoffs. Those are memories I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

And I still love high school football. There is something about it that has retained a certain purity. Young men taking the field alongside their friends, giving everything they have for their teammates, their school, and their community. It reminds me of why I fell in love with the game in the first place. It's funny how time changes your perspective. When I was playing football, I don't remember giving much thought to the marching band. I knew they were there, of course. They played in the stands, performed at halftime, and helped create the atmosphere that made Friday nights so special. But my attention was on the field: thinking about the next series, the next play, the next opportunity to make a tackle or help my team win. Even after my playing days were over, when I returned to the stands as a spectator, my attention was usually drawn to the field. But this fall, Friday nights have taken on an entirely new meaning. My daughter, Bailey, joined the West Branch Warrior Marching Band. And while I still enjoy watching the game unfold beneath the lights, I have found myself watching something else entirely. I am watching my daughter grow up.

Bailey decided to join the marching band, and our family entered an entirely new world of summer practices, instruments, uniforms, and preparations for Friday night performances. Somewhere along the way, I found myself looking forward to Friday nights for reasons that had very little to do with football.

I still love watching the game. I still find myself following the action, anticipating the next play, and enjoying the familiar sounds of the sport. But now, when the band begins to play, my attention turns toward the stands. I'm looking for Bailey. 

Sometimes I find her among the other band members, playing her instrument and enjoying the moment. Other times, I'm watching her march onto the field, taking her place alongside her friends as they prepare to perform. I remember how nervous Bailey was about taking the field for her first performance. I knew that feeling well. I remembered what it was like to step onto a football field beneath those lights, surrounded by your teammates, with the stands full of people watching. But watching her that first night was something special. Her belt didn't quite fit right, and neither did her big black hat. I couldn't help but smile. But when it came time to perform, she marched out onto that field and played her heart out. And there I stood, a father with a camera in his hands, watching his little girl make memories of her own.

I've also found myself noticing things that I probably overlooked when I was younger. The band members aren't simply showing up on Friday evenings to play a few songs. They've spent hours practicing, learning their music, and preparing for their performances. They have their own friendships, their own traditions, and their own memories being made under those Friday night lights. And they bring something to the evening that I have come to appreciate in a whole new way.

At the opening home game for the West Branch Warriors earlier this season, I watched as the stands began to empty before the third quarter. Some spectators headed home, while others moved on to whatever else the evening held for them. But the band kept playing.

They cheered for their team, played their music, and continued to contribute to the atmosphere of the game, even as the crowd grew smaller. I found myself watching them as much as I watched the football game. Perhaps it was because Bailey was among them. Perhaps it was because I had begun to recognize how much time and effort these young people had invested in their performances. Or perhaps I was simply beginning to pay attention to something that had been there all along. One of my favorite moments that first evening was watching the band director, Mr. Jones, step in and play the drums alongside his students. There was something wonderful about watching him join in the music, rather than simply directing it.

My favorite moments of the season happen at the conclusion of each home football game. Before leaving the field, the football players gather in front of the marching band. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they began to sway and sing the school anthem as the band plays. These young people have spent the evenings doing very different things. Some have been battling on the football field, while others have spent the evening playing music, cheering from the stands, and performing for the crowd. But for those few moments, they are together, united in school spirit. The football players standing before the band, singing along with the music. The band playing for their classmates. And somewhere among them stands my daughter.

When I think back to my own playing days, to the teammates I stood alongside and the memories we made together, I wonder if I ever truly appreciated moments like this when I was young. I hope Bailey does. There is something about watching your children grow up that is both wonderful and difficult to describe. When they are little, you find yourself looking forward to all the things they will someday do. Their first steps, their first words, their first day of school. You imagine the milestones that lie ahead and wonder what kind of people they will become. And then, somewhere along the way, those milestones pass before our very eyes. This fall, I've watched Bailey step into a world of her own. I've watched her participate in something she enjoys, alongside friends who are making memories of their own. And I have been reminded that these Friday nights won't last forever.

There will come a time when the uniform is put away, the instrument is set aside, and Friday evenings are filled with entirely different activities. But right now, this is where we are. A football field, a marching band, a daughter growing up, and a father who gets to watch it unfold before him. I still love Friday night football. I suspect I always will. But these days, when I stand beneath those familiar lights, my eyes aren't always on the football field. Sometimes they're searching the crowd for my daughter in her marching band uniform. And when I find her, I raise my camera. Because these are moments I don't want to forget.