Tag: ashland-tomcats

Here is some Ashland Tomcat football history with some kick to it

There have been three sets of goalposts in the 89-year history of Putnam Stadium. The first ones were shaped like an H and that were the standard from 1937 to at least 1972 (still researching that one). There have been two sets of the t-shaped goalposts – the first coming in 1974 when the goalposts were moved from the goal line to the back of the end zone – and the second when the renovation took place following the 2013 season.

That set of goal posts are the same ones being used now and were donated by Rick and Jana Sang. They have one of the goal posts from 1974-2013 in pieces and would like to give it a good home somewhere. It needs some work done to put it back together again. Somewhere outside Putnam Stadium might be a good place for this great piece of history.

Some quick research revealed unusual statistics concerning field goals and the Putnam Stadium goalposts who, if they could talk, may remember the field goals missed more than the ones that were made. I may try and set up that interview later.

One of Ashland’s most famous field goals didn’t happen in a home game. That one belonged to John Paul Walters, AKA “The Toe,” who kicked a game-winning field goal against Ironton in a 3-0 victory at Beechwood Stadium in 1950. It was the only field goal of his career, but it was a big one. He did connect on a dozen extra points.

Walters’ game-winning kick from 15 yards out grazed the crossbar before tricking over. He used a square-toed shoe and he had to practically beg coach Charlie Eblen he could make it. The kick became so famous that it was rumored someone had offered him $500 for his cleats. Walters told me that was “misleading because they’d have sure got it.”

Paul Hill (kicker) and John Radjunas (holder) were part of the first field goal in Putnam Stadium history.

But the FIRST field goal made in Putnam Stadium didn’t come in the 1930s, 1940s or even the 1950s. It came during the state championship season of 1967 when Paul Hill connected on 24-yard field goal against Stonewall Jackson. It put the Tomcats ahead 3-0 in an eventual 13-3 loss. That was the only defeat in a 13-1 Class AA championship season.

Now, there were some extra point kicks in that 30-year span from 1937 to 1967 but that was the first field goal at Putnam Stadium. Hill was a straight-on kicker who tied the top of his cleat back to make a good kicking surface.

Here’s another inside story: The Tomcats didn’t have a kicker in coach Jake Hallum’s first season in 1966 when Hill and John Radjunas were juniors. They talked about it and decided they would sneak into Putnam Stadium and practice during the spring prior to the 1967 season. Whoever would make the first field goal would be the kicker and the other would be the holder.

But when they started to practice, Hill decided he would kick until he made one and settle the issue quicker. When he missed, he told Radjunas he was “bigger and meaner and he was going to get another turn.”

Radjunas was anything but stupid so he “allowed” Hill to have enough mulligans before he eventually made one.

That took hours and Speed Bailey, the Putnam Jr. High School janitor, spotted them on the field and chased them off. He lived in the white house that used to sit just outside the end zone. But the persistent duo kept trying to improve their skills (and increase their chances of having their name in the newspaper) so they kept sneaking into the stadium and Speed was there to shoo them off. He eventually went to Hallum and figured that would be the end of that stunt. But Hallum liked the idea and gave them keys to the stadium and a bag full of footballs.

They did a few more times but with the thrill of sneaking into the stadium gone, so was most of the fun.

Nearly 60 yards later, Hill still remembers making that 24-yard field goal against Stonewall Jackson. He had made his first one in the second game of the season against Boyd County, a 25-yard field goal in Cannonsburg.

It wasn’t the field goal that was most memorable about the Stonewall Jackson game to Hill though. It’s the nightmarish memory of Harry “Sugar Bear” Lyles, the dynamic Stonewall linebacker who was all over Putnam Stadium for 26 tackles.

“I’m an old man and I ain’t never forgot that man,” Hill said. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”

Hill didn’t have any professional kicking instruction except for a conversation with Bubby Payne, a former kicker for Ashland who played at UK years prior. Soccer-style had not arrived in America, so it was a straight-on approach. He ran a shoestring around the back of his shoe and then through his first single clean on the front of the shoe. He then pulled the string as tight as he could to force his ankle to be locked in a better kicking position. Hill did that regularly for kickoffs and many of them reached the goal line.

Hill remembers missing some field goals with line drive kicks that crashed into the crossbar and came right back at him. “I came up short,” he said. “Story of my life.”

Hill’s last field goal came against Covington Catholic the week after the Stonewall Jackson game and it was also at Putnam Stadium.

His most important kick though may have come in a 21-20 victory over McKell at Putnam Stadium. The extra point on the last touchdown provided the winning margin in one of Ashland’s toughest games of the season besides Stonewall Jackson.

Ashland was trailing 20-14 in the fourth quarter when Radjunas famously told Coach Hallum before the game-winning drive to save a timeout so Paul could have time to tie up his shoe. He did and then boomed it through the uprights for the narrow win in what Hill called “the best game we ever won.”

Don Gullett scored three touchdowns and ran for 88 yards in the game for McKell. Hill said his best play was chasing down Gullett and he told Don’s brother, Jack, about it later in life.

“Donnie’s pretty quick but I ran him down before he could score another touchdown that would have beaten us,” he told Jack.

“You couldn’t run him down!’ Jack shot back.

“I could if I had the angle and I did.”

Paul’s nephew, Clayton Hill, was a soccer star for the Tomcats and the kicker for the 1990 state champions. He didn’t have a field goal, but he did make 42 extra points. That Tomcat team went for it on most fourth downs.

The kicker with the most field goals, at least through the 2020 season, was Preston Freeman with nine over two years and seven in the 2006 season. He was another outstanding soccer player.

Jim Ward in 1965 used the dropkick to kick a dozen extra points but no field goals.

The first field goal in Ashland Tomcat history came in 1919 but I don’t have a name. The next came in 1923 by Wilfrey Wolfrey, who booted two including one that provided a 3-0 road victory over Millersburg Military Institute. He also made one at Armco Field in a 51-0 win over Paris.

Tyler Rowland not just right choice but the only choice as Ashland Tomcats’ new radio ‘Voice’

Tyler Rowland did such a superb job calling Ashland Tomcat sports on the radio late last fall and throughout the spring that Thursday’s announcement naming him the new “Voice of the Tomcats” came as no surprise.

Kindred Communications, which has carried Tomcat sports broadcasts for several years, announced in a press release that it would continue its partnership with Ashland athletics. Later in the release came the news that Rowland had been named the new “Voice of the Tomcats,” succeeding the late, great Dicky Martin.

From a news perspective, Kindred Communications may have buried the lead.

Rowland is a bona fide broadcasting talent on the rise. Last basketball season, he inherited one of the toughest assignments in the 16th Region when he stepped behind the microphone following the tragic passing of Martin, a broadcasting icon whose voice became synonymous with Ashland athletics.

Who could replace Dicky Martin? The truth is, nobody.

Tyler Rowland is now the “official” new Voice of the Ashland Tomcats.

But if there was one obvious choice, it was Rowland.

He brings the same meticulous preparation and genuine passion that made Martin respected throughout Kentucky. While no one could duplicate Martin’s unique style, Rowland has developed a voice and approach of his own that Tomcat fans quickly embraced.

When the opportunity came, Rowland didn’t just seize it—he sprinted with it.

A 2006 Ashland graduate, Rowland played football under Leon Hart. He considered Martin both a mentor and a friend. He credits Martin for teaching him the craft of broadcasting and eagerly absorbed every lesson.

Rowland began working alongside Martin in 2020, assisting with the radio broadcast of Ashland’s 35-14 victory over Elizabethtown in the Class 3A state championship game in Lexington.

“Dicky is a dear, treasured friend,” Rowland said. “Dicky guided me in so many ways and I think is right up there with Cawood Ledford and Marty Brennaman.”

Determined to sharpen his skills, Rowland sought broadcasting opportunities wherever he could find them, including calling football and basketball games for West Virginia State during the 2024-25 season. He’s also done summer league basketball games for the past few years, always looking to refine those God-given broadcasting skills.

His love for sports—and for the Tomcats—dates back to his elementary school days at Oakview. He recalls his sixth-grade year as a turning point when he played organized basketball for Steve Reliford.

“My passion for sports stems because of that year and how much I developed socially and what I learned from it,” he said. “Steve believed in me at a time I didn’t come close to believing in myself.”

Later, as a freshman, classmate Joe Smith encouraged him to try football.

“So I did,” he said. “Played for Leon Hart for his first three seasons and enjoyed that.”

As a sixth-grader, Rowland could never have imagined that one day he would occupy the play-by-play seat for Ashland Tomcat football and basketball. He probably didn’t even realize the Tomcats were on the radio.

Today, he has become the permanent voice of one of Kentucky’s proudest athletic traditions.

And the best part? He’s only going to get better.

Rowland is a consummate professional. Give him a listen. In an era when many Ashland games are available on television through My Town TV—a service many fans appreciate—it’s easy to overlook the experience of listening on the radio. But if you tune in, you’ll quickly discover that Rowland has a gift for painting vivid word pictures of the action, occasionally mixed with the kind of colorful editorial observations that made Dicky Martin so memorable.

As Ashland athletic director Jim Conway so accurately said in the release, “the future sounds great.”

Kindred’s announcement confirmed that Tomcat games will once again air on 97.9 FM this season. But the biggest news wasn’t the frequency.

It was that Tyler Rowland is now the permanent Voice of the Tomcats.

He wasn’t handed the job.

He earned it.

Rannie Cooper was much more than the Bluegrass boss

To most people in Ashland, Rannie Cooper was the man behind the legendary Bluegrass Grill, the hometown restaurant where great food and great memories were served side by side.

But to generations of boys growing up in Ashland, he was simply Coach Cooper.

He spent years coaching Little League baseball and elementary basketball, pouring his heart into young athletes. He taught them fundamentals, expected them to compete, and celebrated their victories with Bluegrass milkshakes. For a lot of kids, those milkshakes tasted even sweeter after a win.

He was also one of the Ashland Tomcats’ biggest supporters. Rannie often made sure players had meal tickets after big games—maybe before that was officially allowed. His son, Randy, was a dynamic receiver for the Tomcats, and few things made Rannie prouder than seeing him cross the goal line at Putnam Stadium.

Rannie Cooper in a 2006 photo from The Daily Independent photographer John Flavell as he was preparing to close the famous Bluegrass Grill in Ashland. Cooper died early Friday, June 19,2026

The relationships didn’t end when the seasons did. Rannie stayed connected with many of the boys he coached as they grew into high school athletes and adults. They remembered not only what he taught them about sports, but how he treated them.

Scott Walter, who played for Cooper’s Tigers in Ashland American Little League, summed him up perfectly in a Facebook tribute Saturday.

“He loved to win as much as anyone, and he certainly helped prepare us to compete by instructing us and teaching us the fundamentals of the game,” Walter wrote.

Rannie passed away Friday morning. With his passing, Ashland lost not only a legendary businessman but also a mentor whose influence reached far beyond a ball field.

As a businessman, Rannie did something remarkable. He didn’t just survive the fast-food explosion of the 1960s and 1970s — he thrived through it.

The Bluegrass Grill remained the place to eat in Ashland. At lunchtime, regulars packed the booths. After dark, teenagers filled the parking lot. Countless first dates began there. More than a few marriage proposals happened there. It was one of those rare places where good food became part of life’s biggest moments.

When Rannie closed the restaurant in 2006, it wasn’t because business had slowed. Quite the opposite.

After nearly 50 years of working 12- to 14-hour days, the 65-year-old was simply ready to retire. Customers were still lining up for Flying Saucers, Twinburgers, chili, spaghetti, onion rings, fresh pies and all the other favorites that made the Bluegrass famous throughout the Tri-State.

For many of us, the Bluegrass was also the headquarters of cruising culture. We’d circle through the restaurant, head down Winchester Avenue, then turn around and do it all over again. Long before social media, that’s where you saw your friends on a Friday or Saturday night.

Rannie had earned every bit of that success.

He started at the Bluegrass in 1956 as a 15-year-old carhop. After graduating from Ashland High School in 1959, he went to work there full time. In 1971, he purchased the restaurant from Michael Riggal, grandson of founders Arch and Frances Riggal, who opened the Bluegrass in 1946.

Along with the business came its treasured recipes. Rannie often said he promised the Riggal family those recipes would remain with him until his death. His son, Randy, and daughter, Annette Ryan, who both worked in the restaurant for years, never made that same promise.

This menu stand from the Bluegrass could just make your mouth water. Rannie Cooper, who operated the Bluegrass from 1971 to its closing in 2006, died on Friday, June 19, 2026.

Even today, it’s common to see people on social media reminiscing about the Bluegrass and wishing they could have one more meal there. Everyone had a favorite.

Mine was a Twinburger with onion rings and a slice of strawberry pie.

My connection to the Bluegrass started before I was born. My father worked there as a carhop in the late 1940s and often brought home a box of hot dogs for him and my mother to enjoy after work. Maybe that’s why the Bluegrass always felt like home to me.

I came to know Rannie well during my years at the newspaper. He was always straightforward, deeply rooted in his faith, and never shy about sharing an opinion —especially when it came to the Ashland Tomcats. It didn’t matter whether it was football, basketball or baseball. He cared about those teams because he cared about the young people wearing the uniforms.

Ashland has been blessed through the years with men who invested their time in coaching boys. Rannie Cooper was one of the very best.

The Bluegrass Grill remains one of those places that lives on in conversations, family stories and hometown nostalgia.

And Coach Cooper lives on in the countless boys who became better athletes — and better men — because he took the time to coach them.

My deepest condolences go to the Cooper family, especially to Charlene, his wife of 67 years.

FLASHBACK: Love and devotion

This was written back in 2014 following the death of Herb Conley’s wife, Janice. It is a tribute to her but also to every coach’s wife. They go through more than you think. Herb called Janice his “inspiration” and the thought of them reuniting made the sting of his death easier to bear.

Here is the column:

Nobody ever pushed around Herb Conley. Nobody ever dared.

He was tough as nails. As a kid growing up. As a blossoming athlete. As a coach. As a father. Always, tough as nails.

He was a Beast, and this Beast had a Beauty.

Her name was Janice.

Janice was the love of his life, the one person who could tame this Tough Guy who would become a football coaching legend in his hometown.

She could melt him with the batting of her eyes.

She had him at hello and, boy, was he ever glad she did.

Whenever things were tough, and they weren’t always easy for Herb Conley, he had Janice.

Always there to lift him up.

Always there to tell him how proud she was of him.

Always there to keep him in line.

Whenever Herb Conley needed a boost, she was there for him. She could pick up his spirit like he picked up weights. Effortlessly.

They lived a storybook life, these high school sweethearts did. That’s because anything they did together, they did well. They were soulmates who raised three boys in their hometown. Grew old together, yet still loved each other like school kids.

She had one of the toughest jobs on earth, that of being the wife of a high school football coach, in a town that expected a lot from its team. Every week. Every game. Every minute.

We’re with you win or tie, they would say.

Conley was no newcomer when he became Ashland’s head coach in 1968. He was a former star player for the Tomcats, a member of their last undefeated team in 1958, and had been an assistant the prior two years under Jake Hallum. The ’67 Tomcats won a state championship and Herbie was a big reason why.

But when you step into that head coaching position, the pressure intensifies. Ask anyone who has coached here where your fate is determined every Friday night.

When the Tomcats weren’t winning like the fans thought they should be winning, the fingers started pointing and they were pointing in Herb’s direction in 1970.

Legend or not, they were ready to run him out of town.

Ashland had lost to Russell for the first time in school history and angry fans trashed Conley’s yard and home with garbage.

“Herb wasn’t always the legend he is now,” said longtime friend Bill Tom Ross. “Early in a coach’s career, you have difficulties. I had the same thing at Boyd County (his first head coaching assignment).

“Imagine being Herb Conley’s wife? The toughness, the mental toughness, raising three sons. That house was overflowing with testosterone.”

But Ross remembers Janice as being upbeat in the face of adversity. She was that to the end.

“I remember back in those days she was never down, never depressed,” said Ross, who credits his wife Brenda with his coaching success.

The life of the high school coach’s wife is never easy. The divorce rate is high. The criticism you hear from fans can be cruel.

“Not only in the stands but, when you’re coaching at a high-profile place like Ashland, you can’t go to the grocery store or the bank without hearing something,” Ross said. “Somebody is always talking about the game.”

But the wife must bite her tongue, smile and take it. They must be there for their husband and their family. They better be strong.

“I’m not sure in that household that Janice wasn’t the toughest one of the bunch,” Ross said.

Back in 1970, when things were tough, a letter came to the Conley’s house. Inside it had a cartoon drawn of a man with a noose around his neck with another man leading him out of town.

Janice never showed it to Herb, but he found it rummaging through a drawer a couple of years later.

“What’s this?” he asked her.

 “Oh, where do you find that?” she said. “I thought I threw that away. It was nothing.”

She told Herb it had come a few years ago, but she didn’t want to bother him with it. Truth is, Janice was protecting her man from one more dart being thrown in his direction.

The rest of the story went well for Herb Conley after he survived that 1970 season. The Tomcats took off on a six-year run that produced 56 victories, a state runner-up finish in 1972 and the 1975 state at-large championship.

Guess who was there cheering him all the way?

She loved her Tomcats. Always. Even in her last days of a losing battle with cancer, when she was mostly unresponsive, when Herb was wearing a Tomcat shirt she would look down at it and then up to his face. Down again and up to his face.

It’s been a difficult 19 months for the Conleys, who were set to enjoy a long retirement together with long walks on the beach. They loved their stretch of paradise on Myrtle Beach.

They enjoyed life together, right to the end. It was a never-ending love story like you wouldn’t believe.

Coaches’ wives are given something special inside. They are patient and thick-skinned. They know the importance of supporting their man through the good times and bad.

Janice Conley was like that for Herb.

“They were the ultimate team,” said Ross. “He didn’t lose her. He knows exactly where she is. He’s got that peace that passes all understanding.”

And he’ll never stop loving her.