Andy Colbert is away for a couple weeks. Here is one of his columns from August 2003.

All of sudden last week, I found myself with a rare commodity – unexpected spare time.

An interview I had in Prophetstown for a sports article was postponed. With nothing else to do for about an hour, I decided to head east on the back roads and visit one of the few towns in northwest Illinois I hadn’t been to – Tampico.

As everyone knows, Tampico is noteworthy as the birthplace of former President Ronald Reagan; but I stumbled upon another historical site that offered more intrigue to me.

A deserted high school football field is what I found.

I knew Tampico hadn’t had a football team for a few years. As I drove by a brick building with the inscription, “Township High School 1921”, I had a last-second thought to see what became of the football field.

I parked north of the school, made my way around to the side of the building and there it was. It was like walking into a time warp.

Two goal posts, with faded maroon and white paint, gave evidence of what once was. Another worn-out relic, a scoreboard with the insignia, “Home of the Warriors”, stood at the west end.

It was almost like visiting a Civil War battlefield, but with a different type of history being played out. These grounds had been the stage for countless players, coaches, cheerleaders, band members, parents, referees, students, faculty and townspeople.

With the smell of popcorn filling the air, so many different stories were told on Friday nights in the fall. Whether it was a running back streaking to the end zone with the winning touchdown, or a proud grandparent watching their granddaughter shake pom poms, or a teenager being asked to go to the homecoming dance, or fans questioning a play call, or a young kid dreaming of the time he would get to don a helmet and uniform, and the list goes on and on.

Now, this magical place where so much of small town life happened sat empty, probably never to be used again for a high school football game. That’s too bad, because the grassy expanse was still in good shape. Someone had been maintaining it, just like a treasured antique.

There was even a cinder track ringing the field, something rarely seen anymore. As someone with a fond remembrance of the era of cinder tracks, it was very nostalgic for me to slowly make my way around the 440 yards, as it was measured before the metric system was foisted upon us, and conjure up thoughts of what it was like all those years ago.

Like in 1960. Teams from Atkinson, Buda, DePue, Neponset, Paw Paw and Tiskilwa would come to Tampico to play football and run track. Today, that’s hard to fathom, as they are all out of the football and track business, having been merged into other school districts.

What took place between all those schools and Tampico is just as much a part of history as Ronald Reagan being born there. Actually, that deserted football field and cinder track had a bigger impact on people’s lives than having a United States president call your town his place of birth.

Other than a lawn mower going in the distance, it was a quiet place to be. If one wanted to, there was even a tree stump to sit on in, with chin on hand and further contemplate things, a la Rodin’s “The Thinker”.

What a perfect place to be, I thought. The football field was surrounded by farmland on three sides, just like what was seen in so many small rural towns. I don’t know what type they were, but a few large trees lined much of the premises, adding another quintessential touch to its environs.

Finishing my lap around the track, it was time to go. But, one more remnant of times gone by caught my eye in the far northeast corner of the grounds.

It was an abandoned blocking sled, just like I remember from my era of playing in the 1970s. Like an old-model car, it was showing its age and starting to rust.

Right below where it said Rae Crowther Co. Ardmore, Pennsylvania, I laid my shoulder in and gave it a whack, managing to move it a few feet. A kinder, gentler task from those dog days of summer when a coach would be standing on it for extra weight and barking commands at you.

“Head up, butt down, move it”, seemed to echo back at me all these years later.

As I walked back to my car, I noticed the man mowing his yard was looking in my direction. Yes, I realize it probably looks stupid for a 45-year-old in a deserted field to be hitting a two-man blocking sled.

That’s OK. If I ever get back to Tampico, I would probably do the same thing again.

Andy Colbert is a longtime Ogle County resident with years of experience covering sports and more for multiple area publications.