Aspen Lacrosse Club Builds Community Through Youth Team Tours

A $14 million project. Twelve units.

That’s the scale of the new housing development in Delta, a place where the cost per square foot is rising faster than the temperature in July. But let’s look at the Aspen area for a moment, where the "Mountain Mayhem" isn’t about real estate speculation, but about a sport that’s suddenly become the local obsession.

Rick Stevens knows this better than anyone. He’s a legend in the valley, inducted into the Lacrosse Hall of Fame in 2025, and he’s been coaching youth and varsity teams for decades. He calls it “The Creator’s Game,” referencing the Indigenous origins where bear, deer, and turtle challenged eagle, hawk, and bat to a ball game that settled disputes and trained warriors. It’s not just a game; it’s a history lesson played out on a field.

This spring, the Aspen Boys seventh and eighth grade team didn’t just play games. They toured. They started in Denver with Arapahoe Youth League matches. Then Grand Junction Quick Stix. Then Vail. Then Crown Mountain Park for The Aspen Tournament. Then Telluride. Then Steamboat.

It’s a weekend tournament almost every single week.

For context, that’s a lot of bus rides and gas money for local families. But the enthusiasm is undeniable. The culture around the sport isn’t accidental. It’s deliberate. Coaches encourage. Players bond. Traveling teams develop camaraderie that feels earned, not forced.

Lacrosse itself is fast, physical, and beautiful to watch. It’s one of the oldest organized sports in North America. French missionaries in the 1600s named it “la crosse” because the stick looked like a bishop’s staff. It got standardized in Canada in 1867. It made brief Olympic appearances in 1904 and 1908. Now, it’s officially returning to the 2028 Los Angeles Summer games.

I wish I’d been exposed to it early on. Growing up in the Midwest, soccer was the default. Lacrosse wasn’t on the map. Discovering it now as a parent through the Aspen Lacrosse Club has been an unexpectedly exciting experience. For our family, and especially for our son Remy, it’s been a revelation.

The game demands more travel than some, but less grinding commitment than others. It’s a great entry point. The drives through the mountains between games are part of the experience. Group get-togethers happen. The boys bond.

But here’s the thing about this "Mountain Mayhem." It’s not just about the sport. It’s about the community building that happens in the spaces between the matches. It’s about the local economy of bus rentals, gas, and tournament fees. It’s about a sport that’s finally getting the respect it deserves, even if it’s still fighting for its place in the mainstream consciousness.

The data doesn’t lie. The participation numbers are up. The enthusiasm is palpable. The history is deep. The future, at least for now, is bright.

For the folks in the valley, this means more than just another sport. It means more community. More connection. More reasons to get out of the house and into the mountains. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best things in life aren’t the ones you buy. They’re the ones you play.