top of page

Why the Cherokee Know How to play stickball: ᎠᏂᏣᎳᎩ ᏣᏂᎩᏔᎭ ᎤᎾᎳᏍᎦᎵᏗᎢ

It is that time of year again, the season of the Cherokee Nation Festival is around the corner and that means it is time for a good ol’ game of ᎠᏁᏦᏗ (anetsodi, Stick Ball). The game is one of the Cherokee people’s favorite past times, and unlike the American counterpart, lacrosse, there is no protective armor, just wit and the skin on our bones.

Historically, ᎠᏁᏦᏗ (anetsodi, Stick Ball) took place during festivals throughout the year, but the game also had a more significant political sentiment and would often take place during political disputes between neighboring nations. However, the games were played even before the time of the modern Cherokees, in a time where the songs and words of those who are now silent could once be understood.

So, in honor of this year’s festivities, let’s turn back the clock to the time of ᏲᎾ (yona, Bear), ᎠᏉᎭᎵ (awohali, Eagle), ᏥᏍᏆ (tsisqua, Bird) and even our favorite, ᏥᏍᏚ (tsisdu, Rabbit) during the hour of celebration, and of course, the friendly game of ᎠᏁᏦᏗ (anetsodi, Stick Ball).


Once the animals challenged the birds to a great ballplay, and the birds accepted. The leaders made the arrangements and fixed the day, and when the time came both parties met at the place for the ball dance, the animals on a smooth grassy bottom near the river and the birds in the treetops over by the ridge. The captain of the animals was the Bear, who was so strong and heavy that he could pull down anyone who got in his way. All along the road to the ball ground, he was tossing up great logs to show his strength and boasting of what he would do to the birds when the game began. The Terrapin, too—not the little one we have now, but the great original Terrapin—was with the animals. His shell was so hard that the heaviest blows could not hurt him, and he kept rising up on his hind legs and dropping heavily again to the ground, bragging that this was the way he would crush any bird that tried to take the ball from him. Then there was the Deer, who could outrun every other animal. Altogether it was a fine company.

The birds had the Eagle for their captain, with the Hawk and the great Tlă′nuwă, all swift and strong of flight, but still they were a little afraid of the animals. The dance was over and they were all pruning their feathers up in the trees and waiting for the captain to give the word when here came two little things hardly larger than field mice climbing up the tree in which sat perched the bird captain. At last they reached the top, and creeping along the limb to where the Eagle captain sat they asked to be allowed to join in the game. The captain looked at them, and seeing that they were four-footed, he asked why they did not go to the animals, where they belonged. The little things said that they had, but the animals had made fun of them and driven them off because they were so small. Then the bird captain pitied them and wanted to take them.

But how could they join the birds when they had no wings? The Eagle, the Hawk, and the others consulted, and at last it was decided to make some wings for the little fellows. They tried for a long time to think of something that might do, until someone happened to remember the drum they had used in the dance. The head was of ground-hog skin and maybe they could cut off a corner and make wings of it. So they took two pieces of leather from the drumhead and cut them into shape for wings, and stretched them with cane splints and fastened them on to the forelegs of one of the small animals, and in this way came Tla′mehă, the Bat. They threw the ball to him and told him to catch it, and by the way he dodged and circled about, keeping the ball always in the air and never letting it fall to the ground, the birds soon saw that he would be one of their best men.