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Episode No. 375: Kelvin Sampson

There is probably no need for an introduction for today’s guest. You know who Kelvin Sampson is.
Currently, the 70-year-old Sampson is the head coach of the University of Houston’s highly-successful men’s basketball program.
He’s won multiple national Coach of the Year awards, and he took the Cougars to the Final Four in 2021 and 2025. He also took Oklahoma to the Final Four in 2002.
He coached at Indiana, and he was an assistant for the Milwaukee Bucks and Houston Rockets in the NBA.
Before all of that, though, Kelvin Sampson, as Jud Heathcote told him, took Montana Tech’s men’s basketball program from oblivion to obscurity.
Of course, the immediate years following that phone call from the legendary Heathcote were the “Camelot Years” at Montana Tech. Extra seating had to be brought into the HPER Complex to accommodate all the people who wanted to watch Sampson’s high-flying Orediggers win the Frontier Conference title in 1983, 1984 and 1985.
Next Saturday, Aug. 29, Coach Sampson will return to the Mining City to host a camp on Montana Tech’s Kelvin Sampson Court. Click here for more information and to register for that camp.
This morning, I caught up with Coach Sampson over Zoom for a really fun conversation. Listen in as he talks about starting his coaching career and how he and his wife, Karen, had to look on an atlas to find Montana.
Listen in as he talks about so many of the players, assistant coaches and families who helped him in his days in Butte. Listen in to hear that the Mining City still holds a special place in Coach Sampson’s heart.
Today’s episode is presented by Casagranda’s Steakhouse. Eat where the locals eat. (Photo above is from the University of Houston men’s basketball website.)
This episode is also available on YouTube:
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No. 374: Remembering Larry Hoffman

Larry Hoffman was not originally from the Mining City. He was born and raised in Lewistown, which is smack dab in the center of Montana.
Nobody, however, was more Butte than Larry, who passed away at the age of 81 on July 31.
Larry was a miner’s miner. His first trip underground came when he was 8 years old, and he immediately knew he was going to make a career out of it.
After graduating from Fergus County High School, Larry came to Butte to earn a degree in mining engineering at the Montana School of Mines.
A birth defect in his lower back meant that he could not pass a physical to work for the Anaconda, Co., but that didn’t stop Larry’s mining career. Instead, he went to work for himself, taking on contract mining jobs in Butte, as well as various other places in North American and South America.
Larry was one the main reasons we still have Christmas lights on the gallows frames in Butte. Each year, Larry and some fellow volunteers climbed up those headframes to bring a little cheer to the holiday season.
He also led the way to put the American flags on top of the headframes. Well, he did until Butte-Silver Bow put a stop to that last December, citing “liability concerns.”
When he wasn’t mining, Larry helped us all learn about it. He volunteered for many years doing things like rebuilding the mining exhibits at the World Museum of Mining and constructing the underground mining tour.
He was instrumental in the construction of the Carousel at Stodden Park, making sure the spirit of the Columbia Gardens will be a live for decades to come.
In short, Larry spent 81 years making the world a better place, and he is already missed so much.
On Dec. 4, 2024, Larry met me at the Belmont Senior Center. We enjoyed a delicious cinnamon roll and had a great conversation about Larry, mining and Butte, America.
This was one of the most popular episodes of the ButteCast, and today I am bringing it back as we remember one of the Mining City’s greatest.
If you listened in 2024, it will be great to hear Larry’s voice again. If you are listening for the first time, get ready to learn a thing or two about our great mining camp. You will probably get a better appreciation of the beauty of the Butte skyline, too.
Today’s episode is presented by Thriftway Super Stops. Download the TLC app and start saving today.
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Skeez Sullivan taught me how to juggle … and so much more

When you have a teacher who leaves a positive, lasting impact on your life, you should tell that teacher if you can.
Luckily, I was able to tell that to Mr. John “Skeez” Sullivan. He read the column below that I wrote about him a few decades after I first met him as my no-nonsense physical education teacher at Kennedy Elementary School. He didn’t say much about it, but I think he got a kick out of it.
He also said that listening to me try to read the news on the radio made him want to stab his ears out.
Like when I wasted so much time with all those dribbles before I missed all 10 free throws trying to qualify for the Elks Hoop Shoot, Mr. Sullivan was not about to sugarcoat any lesson. I needed to get better, and he let me know.
I had Mr. Sullivan’s class every Monday from the fall of 1983 through the spring of 1987, and he was not the kind of teacher who just sat back and watched us play dodgeball. We wanted to just play, but he was always there to offer a real lesson.
He taught me how to juggle, and he taught me how to keep my eye on the ball. He taught me that it was best to breath in through the nose and out the mouth when exercising. He also embarrassingly taught that, no matter how badly I wanted to win, it is never OK to cheat in dodgeball. Or any sport.
In Mr. Sullivan’s class, I learned the substance was way more important than style.
Later, when I would see Mr. Sullivan at a track meet, he would offer invaluable pearls of wisdom in passing conversation. Hardly a day goes by that I do not think of something that I was taught by Mr. Sullivan, either as an adult or as an elementary student.
Every time, it makes me smile. I even smile when I think about the time he sent me to the corner with a barrage of tennis balls being thrown my way, but somehow none of them hitting me.
Mr. Sullivan passed away on Aug. 7. He was 85.
In his honor, I juggled baseballs just to make sure I still could, and then I dug up this column from the archives. This was first published on Nov. 4, 2014.
Life lessons in Skeez Sullivan’s gym class
Sometimes one little comment can bring back a memory you didn’t even know you had.
That happened to me the other day when I was trying to talk my oldest daughter into playing fifth-grade basketball later this school year.
“I did the hoop shoot thing at school yesterday,” she said, “and I didn’t make one shot.”
Immediately I was brought back to the old Kennedy Elementary gym on a day I had completely forgotten about. It was Mr. Sullivan’s physical education class in third or fourth grade, and he was conducting the qualifying for the Elks Hoop Shoot.
I took the line confident that if I wasn’t going to make a lot of shots, at least I could look like I knew what I was doing as I shot them.
On the first attempt I toed the line. Dribble, dribble, dribble, dribble, dribble. Then I tossed the ball in front of me with backspin so it would bounce back to me. Then, dribble, dribble, dribble, dribble and shoot. It missed.
I repeated that routine on all 10 of my shots, and I missed all 10 of them.
As the ball hit the floor on my last shot, I noticed the teacher, John “Skeez” Sullivan, motioning me over to him.
“C’mere,” Mr. Sullivan said as he waived his arm. “How many shots did you just make?”
Having watched all of my shots, Mr. Sullivan knew the answer to the question. I answered anyway.
“I didn’t make any, Mr. Sullivan,” I said.
“Now,” Mr. Sullivan said, “you didn’t make a single shot, but you wasted everybody’s time by bouncing the ball around like that? Why would you do that?”
I had no answer to the teacher, but I got the message loud and clear.
Once I got to know Mr. Sullivan as “Skeez,” he became one of my favorite people. Back when I was missing free throws, though, he was my second favorite gym teacher. Out of two.
Mr. Sullivan was distant second to Mr. Donaldson for two reasons. One, which wasn’t Mr. Sullivan’s fault, was that Mr. Donaldson was our Friday teacher and Mr. Sullivan was our Monday teacher.
School was always way more fun on Friday. Even if there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, Mondays were always dark and miserable to me in grade school.
The second reason was Mr. Donaldson always just let us have fun. It was mostly prison ball on Fridays. Mr. Sullivan was stricter, and he made us learn things. He also made us do more calisthenics.
I never once got in trouble in Mr. Donaldson’s gym. Mr. Sullivan’s gym was another story.
The worst trouble I got into came one gloomy Monday when Mr. Sullivan was splitting up the class into two-person teams for a competition of some kind involving tennis balls.
I don’t know exactly what the game was. I didn’t get to watch because Mr. Sullivan made me stand with my face in the corner throughout the entire game.
That’s because the selection of quality teammates was drying up as Mr. Sullivan randomly put the students on teams. I was one of the last four students picked, and another was a small, very uncoordinated girl. There was no way I would be competitive with that girl as my teammate.
(It should be noted, by the way, that the girl I refer to as “uncoordinated” tied with me in that hoop shoot qualifier.)
When Mr. Sullivan paired the girl with another boy, I mutter “phew” under my breath. At least it was meant to be under my breath.
Mr. Sullivan heard it, and he was not happy. He yelled for me to go stand in the corner, and he repeatedly threw tennis balls at me as I made my slow, embarrassing walk of shame.
The only thing that was missing was a dunce cap.
Later, Mr. Sullivan called me over again and lectured me about how I hurt the feelings of that girl. I don’t remember what he said word for word, but I know it included a “Why would you do that?”
Just like with dribbling before the free throws, I think the answer was that I apparently thought I was a whole lot better than I actually was.
While I didn’t realize it at the time, having Mr. Sullivan as my gym teacher every Monday turned out to be a very good thing.
Because of Mr. Sullivan’s teaching, I can now entertain my kids by juggling. On a good day I can do it for about 30 seconds, and that is more than enough time to entertain a 4-year-old.
I’d also like to think that I learned to be more considerate of the feelings of other, though that is certainly up for debate.
Something that is not debatable, though, is that Mr. Sullivan convinced me at a young age that substance is way more important than style.
The next year when it came time for the Elks Hoop Shoot qualifying during gym class, I didn’t dribble nearly as much. I wasted little time in making 8 of 10 free throws, and I qualified for the city shoot.
I had absolutely forgotten that I competed in the city shoot at Montana Tech that year. That memory probably would have never resurfaced if my daughter had not told me that she went 0 for 10 in that same gym last week.
While I think I’m losing the battle to convince the girl to play basketball, the memory of Skeez Sullivan’s gym class has given me hope in another area.
If nothing else, I know she still has a chance in next year’s Elks Hoop Shoot.
— Bill Foley, who is so thankful to have a teacher like Mr. Sullivan, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74 or Bluesky at @foles74.bsky.social. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.
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Episode No. 373: Devin Amtmann

Devin Amtmann had an interesting upbringing to say the least.
As the youngest of John and Kelly Amtmann’s three daughters, her life has been an adventure from the start. She does not remember not knowing judo, and she learned how to kayak when she was about 4 years old.
Like her older sisters, Aidan and Hannah, Devin played Little Guy Football in grade school before competing in multiple sports at Butte High School. She and Aspen Lovshin advanced to the Class AA State tennis tournament in doubles, and she swam at the State meet on relay teams that included the great Catherine Russo.
She graduated with only one B from Butte High in 2019, earning salutatorian honors.
While perusing her degree in electrical engineering at Montana Tech, Devin got back into judo to take her mind of her rigorous studies. That came after about a 10-year break from the martial art.
To say that judo came back to her just like riding a bike would be a major understatement. Devin has thrived in her second go at judo. She won the bronze medal at the USA Judo Senior Nationals in 2025. She took fifth, just missing out on the bronze, this past May.
She has also trained with Ariel and Shea O’Neill and competed in mixed martial arts. She plans to get back into the cage to fight some more, too.
Later this month, Devin will head to Charlotte, North Carolina to train the National Resident Training Team’s Performance Center for several months. There, she will work on self-improvement as she eyes anther trip to nationals and maybe even the Olympic qualifying for the 2028 Summer Games in Los Angeles.
Earlier today, I met with Devin inside the Vault at the Metals Sports Bar & Grill for a fun conversation. Listen in as she talks about growing up Amtmann, where there was hardly ever a dull moment.
Listen as she talks about competing in sports and getting back into judo. Listen to her plans as she steps up her judo journey with her trip to North Carolina.
Listen in as she talks about the origins of her unique middle name and how it took a long time before she finally embraced it.
Today’s episode is presented by the Jewelry Design Center. Let Brian Toone and Co. be your jewelers for life.
We talk a lot about her father in this episode. He appeared on ButteCast episode No. 198 in July of 2024.
















