Every fall belonged to football. Every winter belonged to basketball.
When my family moved to New Lisbon in 1971, I was stepping into a town where basketball wasn’t just a sport—it was part of the community’s identity. I would spend the next seven years there, graduating in 1977, and when I look back on those years, some of my strongest memories revolve around basketball. The games, the players, the packed gymnasiums, the pickup games that lasted until dark, and the excitement that seemed to surround the sport every day of the year.
Even before I arrived, New Lisbon already had a rich basketball tradition. One name I heard often was Tom Andres. He graduated in the Class of 1966 and had established himself as one of the school’s great players. His scoring records and accomplishments were still being talked about years later.
I actually had the opportunity to play against Tom once in a pickup game, long after his high school days were over. I didn’t know who he was at first, but it didn’t take long to figure out that he had been something special. Even as an older man, he could still play. His skills, instincts, and understanding of the game were obvious. It was easy to see why people still spoke so highly of him.
In this era of New Lisbon basketball, the star everyone was talking about was Bob Melford. He was a senior that year and one of the first people we met when we moved from Winona. Bob was one of those rare athletes who seemed capable of doing everything well. He excelled in basketball, football, and track. Beyond athletics, he was also heavily involved in music and theater. He was the kind of person who made it look easy no matter what he was doing.
As a basketball player, Bob was extraordinary. He was one of those players who drew people to the gym and made every game feel important. Watching him compete was exciting because you always felt like something magical might happen. That team also included another senior, Bill Mitchell and my older brother, Tom, who was a solid contributor as a junior.
One of the most memorable moments from that era came during a tournament game against the La Crosse Logan Rangers. Looking back, it reminds me a little of the movie Hoosiers. New Lisbon was the small-town school facing a much larger program from the city. The game turned into an epic battle that went into multiple overtimes. Our beloved Rockets fought valiantly and came incredibly close to pulling off the upset before eventually falling short 67-60.
Even though New Lisbon lost, it was the kind of game people talked about for years afterward. It embodied everything people loved about small-town basketball—the heart, the effort, and the belief that anything was possible on a given night.
When my brother Tom became a senior, New Lisbon continued its winning tradition. That team featured another outstanding player, a sophomore named Jon Ferch. Tom and Jon formed the core of a team that won the conference championship and gave the town plenty to cheer about. Success seemed almost expected during those years. Winning seasons weren’t unusual; they had become part of the culture.
As Jon Ferch moved into his junior and senior seasons, the Rockets continued to perform at a high level. Those teams also won conference championships and maintained New Lisbon’s reputation as one of the area’s strongest basketball programs.
For whatever reason, however, tournament success never seemed to match the regular-season accomplishments. One obstacle always seemed to stand in the way: the Blair Cardinals. It felt like every year we ran into Blair at the worst possible time. We could dominate conference play, fill the gym with excitement, and build hopes for a deep postseason run, only to have Blair end those dreams. Even now, decades later, I can still remember the frustration of those losses. That’s sports. Sometimes a team just becomes your nemesis.
My class, the class of ’77, was solid in 7th and 8th grade and also our freshman and sophomore years. By the time I reached my junior and senior years, the basketball program was still strong, although we weren’t winning conference championships the way some of the earlier teams had. In 1976, the team finished 14-4 and in 1977 finished 12-6.
Those were respectable records, but they weren’t enough to capture a conference title. We competed hard and had some talented players, but we couldn’t quite reach the heights of some of the teams that came before us.
Like many teams, our seasons usually ended sooner than we hoped in tournament play. Still, when I think back on those years, the records aren’t what stand out most. What stands out is the culture. Basketball was everywhere. If you loved the game, New Lisbon was a wonderful place to grow up.
The pickup games started as soon as school let out and often continued until dark. I spent countless hours playing at my friend Bob's house. If there was a basketball and a hoop, we were ready to play. We also spent many afternoons and evenings at Mike’s house, where another group of players would gather. It didn’t matter if we were keeping score or simply shooting around—we just wanted to play.
Then there was the playground by the school. That court seemed to be alive every day. From morning until evening, there were always players there. Kids, teenagers, and young adults would show up looking for the next game. Sometimes you’d wait for a court. Other times you’d jump right into a pickup game with whoever happened to be there.
The high school gym became the center of town during basketball season. When game night arrived on Tuesdays and Fridays, the stands filled quickly. Families, students, grandparents, and neighbors all came together to support the Rockets. The energy in the building was incredible. You could feel the excitement before tipoff.
One of the biggest points of pride during those years was the new high school gymnasium. As I remember it, the Rockets built an impressive home winning streak there—something in the neighborhood of forty consecutive home victories.
That’s an amazing accomplishment at any level. Every visiting team knew they were walking into a difficult environment. The crowd was loud, the players were confident, and the community expected great basketball. Home games became events. People talked about them all week.
It brought people together. It gave kids something positive to do. It created memories that lasted a lifetime. Whether it was watching stars like Bob Melford and Jon Ferch, cheering for my brother Tom, battling through my own seasons, playing pickup games until sunset, or sitting in a packed gym on a cold winter night, basketball became one of the defining experiences of my youth. None of it would have been possible without all the coaches who were so supportive during my time there: Ken Adams, Ken Hall, Ed Sabey, and Jack Heesch. It was part of their job to coach, but it was their passion to develop players by opening gyms at night, weekends, summers, etc.
New Lisbon was a small town. But during those years, when the basketball season arrived, it felt like the center of the world. And for those of us who lived it, those memories remain just as vivid today as they were more than fifty years ago.
Nobody needed organized practices to improve. We played because we loved it. Looking back, I realize how much those countless hours helped all of us develop more than just coordination. We learned competition, teamwork, toughness, and perseverance. We learned how to win and how to lose. Most importantly, we learned how to enjoy the game.
By the time high school ended, basketball had been one of the defining threads of my youth. But another chapter was waiting just over the horizon—one that would carry me farther from home than I'd ever been before.
