This story is published in the 2018 summer edition of Dave Campbell's Texas Football.

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Marathon, Texas, is not a ghost town.

That’s a common misconception about this part of the world, the Big Bend of Texas. And to be fair, there are some bona fide ghost towns out this way, like Terlingua and Castolon, long abandoned outposts surrounding Big Bend National Park, one of the nation’s least-visited such protectorate.

Marathon is not a ghost town, because Marathon is very much alive for the 430-or-so people that call this isolated place— at the junction of US-90 and US-385, about 30 miles east of Alpine — home. There’s the public library, a humble structure open five hours a day, five days a week that boasts “INTERNET” on its sign. There’s the Gage Hotel, standing where it’s stood since 1927, famous for its West Texas luxury from a bygone era.

But that’s not to say there aren’t ghosts here. Head to the northern edge of this tiny town, at the corner of Avenue D and 7th Street. Stand on this patch of long-browned grass, under the shadow of these ancient goalposts, gazing past the tiny worn grandstands toward the Glass Mountains to the north. The past will find you.

“When you walk on that field, you can feel it,” said Jeff Caffey, now the defensive coordinator for the Class 3A Slaton Tigers. “You can feel it in the locker room. It was a very special and unique place.”

There’s no plaque or statue or even a sign marking this field — an unmarked grave in the desert. But here lie the Marathon Mustangs, Texas high school football’s lost dynasty.