Sunday Morning Sidewalk: The Thunder Rolls

 

As I was driving the rest of the way into Red Lodge yesterday, I ran straight into one of those storms that feels almost alive. About 15 miles out, the clouds lowered themselves like a heavy curtain across the highway. Rain pelted the windshield so hard it felt like the wipers were just moving water around for show, and bolts of lightning split the horizon, turning the mountain ridges into fleeting, ghostly silhouettes. The day before, between Missoula and Butte, the rain had been coming down so hard that the left lane of Interstate 90 looked like a fast-moving creek.

There’s something about driving alone through a storm that sharpens your senses. You grip the wheel tighter, lean forward, tune your ear to the thunder rolling in the distance. You feel both the threat and the pull — the storm dares you to keep going, to push through the uncertainty.

As the thunder rolled around me, I couldn’t help but think about Oregon’s recruiting journey this spring and early summer. For months, the Ducks had been circling some of the most talented prospects in the country, vying for a spot at the table with college football’s true heavyweights. Every time Oregon made a finalist list or earned a top visit, it felt like the dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, the air charged with anticipation.

But much like a storm, recruiting brings its share of near misses. Sometimes you watch the lightning flash in someone else’s sky while you’re left waiting in the drizzle, wondering if the big strike will ever come. That was the story every time a big name slipped away at the last second — the tension would rise, the excitement build, only for the storm to move off in another direction.

Then, almost without warning, the downpour began. Over the last couple of weeks, Oregon has strung together a series of commitments that feel like a flood of long-awaited rain: wide receiver Messiah Hampton, a dynamic playmaker built for highlight reels; safety Jett Washington, whose instincts and range can reshape a secondary; offensive linemen Koloi Keli and Tommy Tofi, each bringing a rare mix of power and footwork to the trenches; safety Devin Jackson, an athletic chess piece in the back end; and finally, the massive and game-changing addition of offensive tackle Immanuel Iheanacho, who looks every bit like an NFL starter in the making.

A month ago, Oregon’s class was sitting at No. 32 in the Rivals rankings. Today, it’s jumped into the top ten — and with momentum on their side, it feels like the thunder has only just begun.

All of this ran through my mind as Garth Brooks’ “The Thunder Rolls” played in my head. The song isn’t just about the literal storm; it’s about that quiet tension before everything changes, the hidden emotions, the moment you finally see what’s been building beneath the surface. That same undercurrent of waiting, wondering, and finally breaking through feels like Oregon’s recruiting story this year.

But as I inched closer to Red Lodge, the storm wasn’t the only thing on my mind. I’m heading there for a baby shower my son and daughter-in-law are having for their first child. Their journey to this point has had its own share of storms — ups and downs, unexpected setbacks, moments of uncertainty and quiet hope. Like a recruiting class, or a storm on a lonely highway, parenthood is a journey you can’t fully predict or control. You do your best to prepare, you dream about what’s possible, and then you just keep moving forward, step by step, mile by mile.

As the rain finally began to ease and the sky lightened at the edges, I thought about how those rolling storms — whether on the road, on the recruiting trail, or in the journey toward parenthood — shape us. They force us to look ahead with both caution and excitement, to embrace the unknown and find joy in the breakthroughs when they come.

By the time I pulled into town, the air smelled clean and new, that earthy scent you only get after a good, hard rain. The storm had passed — for now — leaving a sense of renewal in its wake.

In football, in family, and in life, there will always be more thunder on the horizon. But sometimes, the roll of that thunder is exactly the sound of something beautiful on the way.