Photos by David Joles/Zuma Press (youth team); courtesy of Twin Cities Native Lacrosse (lacrosse stickes); Amon Carter Museum of American Art (painting)
kids playing traditional Lacrosse
As the ball is tossed in the air, 18 players raise their wooden sticks in anticipation. They cheer as a player grabs the ball with a hoop-shaped stick, and the game begins.
“Respect your elder!” an older player yells, prompting much laughter, as a younger player scoops up the ball.
This is traditional lacrosse, rooted in Native American tradition dating back as far as the 17th century. The fields where the game is played now, such as Corcoran Park in Minneapolis, are not far from where Native Americans played in the 1800s (an oil painting from 1848 depicts Dakota playing a game on the frozen Minnesota River, about 3.5 miles from where the Mall of America stands now).
A group called Twin Cities Native Lacrosse has reintroduced the game to the metro area in recent years, rekindling memories and inspiring a new generation of players. Players ranging in age from about 4 to 64 compete in community games at local parks (or indoor domes in winter) and in larger yearly tournaments that draw around 100 athletes. In its first year, players and coaches represented about 40 different tribes at various events. Some players have gone on to play “modern stick” at the collegiate level, while others prefer the wooden stick–style version. The essence of the pickup-style games centers around community, tradition—and fun.
“For the younger generation, almost every family has a story of lacrosse,” says John Hunter, who co-founded Twin Cities Native Lacrosse in 2014 with three other coaches, a bundle of sticks, and a grassy field at the Minneapolis American Indian Center. “Now we’re just taking those stories and we're living them.”
Native Lacrosse sticks
The tools of the trade in the resurgent traditional Native version of lacrosse.
Respect, Not Rules
When Hunter’s daughter became old enough to play sports, the former collegiate player realized that not only did he want to share his love of the game with her, he wanted to make sure she learned the history of the game from an Indigenous perspective. So Twin Cities Native Lacrosse started offering educational outreach programs to local schools and youth association lacrosse teams. Most teens carrying a bicycle-seat-shaped plastic stick are surprised to learn that their sport has such a long history.
Part of that history is that there are few rules in traditional lacrosse: You can’t touch the ball with your hand, but there are no boundaries, no official field, and no referees. There are no regulations dictating the number of players on a side or what they should be wearing.
“In modern games, there are all these rules and regulations you have to follow and make sure you don’t get penalties or get ejected,” says Shaydi Falcon, a 17-year-old who plays modern stick for St. Louis Park High School and participates in as many traditional community games as she can. “In traditional, it’s just ‘Be careful of women and children and have fun.’”
The unwritten rules of respect dictate that “dudes can’t play physical with the girls, but the girls can hit you with the stick, trip you, whatever they want,” agrees Ricky Thompson, who played a season of modern lacrosse until, he says, he got bored by its repetitiveness.
The lack of rules in traditional lacrosse means the game can get more physical—something both Thompson and Falcon appreciate. Say, for instance, the ball gets thrown far away. Out of respect, the closest person usually grabs it.
“Or, if it’s my brother on the other team, we’ll race to the ball to see who gets it,” says Thompson, whose brother also has experience playing lacrosse.
Historically, games often took many days. (Today, they can still go for many hours.) The playing area sometimes stretched miles between goals. And sometimes thousands of people participated in a single game.
“It fits in with the way we do things as Ojibwe and Dakota people,” Hunter says. “We do things for the true essence of it. We have protocols, but we avoid really technical rules.”
That takes the game down to the basics: two teams with goals to protect, fundamental defense and offense, working as a team.
“The rest is just fun,” Hunter says.
Which is exactly why Falcon keeps playing. “Community games are supposed to be for fun—they can be competitive, but they’re not derived on competition, which school games are,” she says. “In school, it’s all about winning. So it’s nice to have that contrast, since I love the sport so much.”
oil painting of native Americans playing lacrosse
An 1848 oil painting depicts Dakota people playing on what’s now the Minnesota River in Bloomington.
The Heart of the Game
Before each game, players usually circle up and share why they came to play that day. The traditional game is sometimes referred to as “the medicine game” for its ability to heal—physically, spiritually, and socio-emotionally.
“We serve a lot of different functions,” Hunter says. “Some families come to us when they’re new to the Twin Cities and looking to connect with people like them. Sports have a universal nature; they tend to break down barriers, and it’s kind of a way for people from different places who don’t know each other to get to know each other.”
The people who play consistently are “like a little family now,” Thompson says.
That’s in keeping with tradition, says Hunter, who often brings his 9-year-old grandson to games.
“Part of our oral and written history is that we had games between tribes in this area,” he says. “So it was a no-brainer to do a large tournament, because it was about coming together and setting aside our differences.”
The modern game hasn’t always been so inclusive, he adds. In the 20th century, it was known as a game played by the privileged elite of the East Coast. As more people learn about traditional lacrosse, that perspective may be changing. For Native kids, playing in traditional, all-ages games often bolsters their confidence and sparks an interest in playing other sports in school, says Hunter, who also coaches the Minneapolis Public Schools boys’ varsity lacrosse team. Kids likely to feel excluded in non-Native environments learn they have as much right to be on the field as anyone, he says.
And “as the larger community learns the history of the sport and develops a deeper appreciation for it, it starts to bring us together as a people of this land,” Hunter says. “A non-Native lacrosse player is part of a heritage that is extended 400 years; they can be part of that too. It’s a game meant to be played by everybody.”
•••••
Before Twin Cities Native Lacrosse, there was just one person in Minneapolis selling traditional lacrosse sticks. Now there are at least six. Although the pandemic has put a damper on indoor games, it’s clear the sport is maintaining its popularity. Players even met over the winter for a few games on the ice. Many are looking forward to a return to more regular games.
“It’s really weird without it,” Falcon says. “I miss it a lot.”
When she’s playing, she says, she feels connected to her culture, to who she is and how she wants to feel.
“In the middle of the game,” she says, “I just feel that this is where I’m supposed to be.”
