Remembering Special Players
After a recent graveside service, the elderly mother made a simple but profound statement: “Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children, even if they are in their seventies.”
I will add to that in a different context: “Coaches aren’t supposed to bury their players, especially some which are in their twenties and thirties.” I coached for 21 years and last picked up a whistle in December of 1994.
After all these years, having coached thousands of young men (at the time), my heart and soul aches when I hear that a former player has passed away. It’s amazing that when you get the news, you remember something special about that player and your relationship.
Here are a few “special” ones who are now playing on the Heavenly Fields Above. I will start with early coaching days from the mid seventies and finish with my last year at Louisville in 1994 under Howard Schnellenberger.
At Cherokee Vocational High School, two of my favorite players were Kenny Jones and Keith Evans. Kenny was a scrappy player and centerfielder on my first baseball team. I remember getting his call one night that he was at MD Anderson, undergoing treatment for testicular cancer. It hit me hard, especially after his following comment: “Coach, after everything you put me through at Cherokee, this cancer is nothing.” He survived the cancer and lived another 45 years. Kenny lost his beautiful wife, Jill, a few years before he died.
Keith Evans was a natural left-handed athlete who was one of the very best pitchers I ever coached who went on to pitch in college. He also played quarterback for us at Cherokee. When you are only 5 years older than many of your players, you develop a closeness, akin to a “Big Brother.”
My first head coaching job was at Tanner High School where I have written often about winning 19 games in 2 years with only 21 players. Two of the key players were Erskine “EJ” Jacobs and Mark Cosby. EJ grew up in a tough neighborhood but used football to keep him in school and on the right track. A number of times, I picked him up walking home from practice and we had special talks I will never forget.
Mark Cosby was a chubby 9th grader whose work ethic was off the chains. Cos developed a high football IQ which allowed him to start both ways as a tenth-grade lineman. I can remember consoling him twice as his emotions took over: first, when we were eliminated from the state playoffs and secondly, was the morning I announced to the team that I had accepted the Muscle Shoals job. We continued to stay in touch as he played at Alabama A&M and helped coach there after graduating. We lost him way too soon, but he still remains one of my favorites. Another teammate, Leo Fuqua is now a preacher and led Mark’s service. I was honored that he read my tribute to Cos during his celebration of life.
At the University of Alabama, Ray Perkins hired me as the director of Bryant Hall, the athletic dorm. We lived in an apartment in the dorm and served as “dorm parents” for two years. You develop a relationship with the players, closer than anyone on the staff since you are there with them every night. You learn about their families, their problems and quickly realize, they are just like ANY 18- or 19-year-old young man.
While there, we lost two players: George Scruggs from Decatur and Willie Ryals from Phenix City. George was killed in a car wreck in north Alabama and Willie had a brain aneurism on the practice field. It hits even harder when you recall, sitting on the desk and visiting in their room, just a few nights before losing them.
To this day, I continue to admire Ray Perkin’s leadership during those difficult times, especially Ryal’s death. Willie was taken off life support during the week of the Kickoff Classic against Ohio State in New York. Perkins had to lead the team through the ups and downs of a ball game while still mourning the loss of a teammate.
Since leaving the staff as the running back coach at Louisville, I have lost 3 different running backs from our Fiesta Bowl winning team over Alabama and the MVP quarterback from that game, Browning Nagle. Last week, we lost the highest rated recruit that I ever signed at U of L, quarterback Marty Lowe who was Tennessee’s Mr. Football.
Quick memories of the three running backs: Latrell Ware was fast and tough. He wore safety glasses and his biggest weakness was his “unsure” hands on passes. Speaking of the Fiesta Bowl, Nagle threw a pass down the sideline to Ware. As the Bama defender flashed in front of him, he bobbled the ball, blindly caught it and took it for a 70-yard touchdown. That started the rout.
Joey Smith was the first and only player at U of L that I witnessed, running a sub 4 second, forty-yard dash. He played for 4 years with the NY Giants. The other starter in the Fiesta Bowl was Pete Bynm. He was a big jokester and talked with a slow drawl. In 1989, we played Syracuse in Tokyo, Japan. Pete came to the running back meeting and asked the entire room if any of them had a “drinking fountain” in their toilet like he did. Bynum, like most of us, had never seen a bidet. Each time I see one, I think of Pete.
When I started recruiting Marty Lowe from Red Bank High in Chattanooga, everyone said I was wasting my time. He was being recruited by Tennessee, Georgia, Florida State and Virginia. AND Louisville. Since Marty was one of the few players back then who was graduating in December, many of the other schools told me they were afraid if they went “all in” on Lowe like we did, they would lose their other quarterback commitments who would sign in February. Marty visited our Fiesta Bowl practice and Coach Schnellenberger worked his magic. It didn’t hurt that both our quarterbacks, Browning Nagle and Jeff Brohm sold him on U of L also.
Coaches get into the profession for different reasons. I can attest that more than anything else, it’s THE relationships.
Many players will thank their old coach for what they did in their lives.
To me, thanks go BOTH ways.
Unless you are looking for a “drinking fountain” in the toilet.