THE FRONT ROW with MARK NELKE: Remembering the games, but also the other stuff

All deaths impact someone, obviously.

But the smaller the town, the more the impact, it seems sometimes.

The whole town, it seems, knows the person.

Clark Fork went through this last summer, when Melvin Speelmon — who was seemingly everybody's son, little brother, big brother or friend — passed away at age 47.

It was more than three decades ago, but who can forget little Melvin, perhaps in the sixth grade, at a track meet on the old cinder track at Clark Fork High, heading down the final straightaway in a distance race — with a dog nipping at his heels the whole way.

And Melvin never broke stride.

And how many times on the football field did Melvin take the snap on fourth-and-forever, run around, and either throw a long touchdown pass, or zig-zag his way through the defense for a score?

Melvin made it seem routine.

And the stories go on and on.

And he probably didn't even need to be born and raised there to be loved that way.

IN A way, Clark Fork is just a smaller version of Sandpoint — which welcomed a just-out-of-college outside some 40 years ago, and treated him as their own.

Clark Fork was the same way. You didn't always drive out to Clark Fork to JUST cover a game.

To heck with deadline! Mrs. Hammersley's got burgers going on the barbecue, after the football game.

Or stop by after the track meet — Mrs. Speelmon's got some grub at the house just a long discus toss away.

(Yes, Melvin's mom.)

Or fuel up to write that volleyball story by downing a few wontons, whipped up by Mrs. Lowther, on the way out of town.

So, sorry bosses, it can be said now — it wasn't always because the game ran late.

WHEN I first met Cindy Derr, she was the secretary at Clark Fork High. When I needed to know what was going on with the Wampus Cats, she was the first voice on the phone.

And often, the only voice.

When I met her at a Clark Fork game, she was with Mrs. Speelmon.

They told me their nicknames.

I can't repeat them.

Welcome to small-town Idaho!

They said goodbye on Saturday to Cindy Derr, who passed away earlier this month at age 65.

The one-time Clark Fork High secretary would eventually take a strong Wampus Cat volleyball program and make it even stronger.

The Cats were the second-best team in the state in their small-school division in 2000, and having watched them, they would have more than held their own against the state's bigger schools. And had there been two classifications for the smaller schools back then like there is now, Clark Fork would likely have brought home a state title.

And she did that by starting a strong club volleyball program — almost unheard of in such a small town.

But you wouldn't get that from her.

She was more likely to brag about the accomplishments of her sister, Becky, or her brother, Mark. Or made sure you went over and said hi to her parents, Blaine and Mary.

Remember, we're talking small towns here.

So not only do you interact with someone like Cindy Derr on a professional level, they also play second base behind you while you pitch in a coed softball game at Travers Park.

Or you're lined up next to them on the volleyball court at the Bonner County Fairgrounds, trying to dig up topspin jump serves from former national-level volleyball players.

And if you're really lucky, you get to swing away at sets tight to the net softly put up there by her daughters, Staci and Jennifer.

And when it's time to say goodbye — and usually it's much too soon — you remember the help and the info, the wins and the losses, the sweat and the tears.

But you also remember the hamburgers and the wontons.

Mark Nelke is sports editor of The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176, Ext. 2019, or via email at mnelke@cdapress.com. Follow him on Twitter @CdAPressSports.