Dean Harris...Part 2
Dean's 1972-73, Edwardsville high school senior season ended with a solid 20-7 won-loss mark. As is the case with many athletic seasons, some would say it was a good year while others might contend some 'parts' were missing or perhaps the team underachieved or the coach did not do a good job. I never debate season outcomes with 'drugstore cowboys;' one day I shall tell you why! Dean was recruited by several Division I universities but it seemed a slam dunk that Dean 'The Dream' Harris was destine for Jack Hartman's K-State 'Wildcats.'
Dean made an immediate impact as a freshman starter on Kansas State basketball team. The 'Wildcats' were 19-9 and second in the Big 8 Conference. Dean's rebounding and defensive abilities were strong attributes. It was the opinion of many college and professional coaches that Dean Harris would be a high NBA draft pick once he gained a little more weight and strength.
The spring of 1974, found me doing what I had done for five previous springs, I was umpiring college and high school baseball games. I did the umpiring gig for three reasons: (1) our family needed extra money, (2) as a former baseball pitcher, I always loved baseball and (3) I believed that I was a good umpire. That spring had Dean returning to Edwardsville after his freshman year at K-State. 'Tree' Harris was still teaching in East St. Louis and his assignment placed him at Lansdowne Junior High School; East St. Louis schools were 'in session' a few weeks from the summer vacation. Proud papa 'Tree' was awaiting his son, Dean to join him for lunch; Dean would never make the father-son luncheon. That May day had some severe thunderstorms with periods of blinding-down-pouring rain. My telephone rang and the voice on the other end belonged to Greg Ahart. Greg and Dean had been teammates and enjoyed their friendship. Greg spoke, "Coach, I just passed Dean's car on Route 157 and it has been in a bad accident." Not wanting to believe, I asked, "Greg, are your sure it's Dean's car?" Greg's voice trembled a bit saying, "Coach it's Dean's car; it has that little tag on the back...you know the one that says, Dean The Dream." I suddenly felt sick inside and numb of thought. I telephoned the Harris home and the accident was confirmed with injury reports causing me great concern and personal anxiety.
Dean was taken to Firmin Desloge Hospital in St. Louis; notorious for attending to the worst accident victims. I went to the St. Louis Hospital that early evening and visited with 'Tree' and Hazel just briefly. They were engulfed by family love ones and constant attempts to learn more details of their son's condition. I left the visitors' waiting room and wondered about the lower-level bowels of Firmin Desloge; it was well after the business hours. A lone man dressed in surgical garb was reading a bulletin board. He turned and spoke to me asking, "Are you here for the basketball player?" The question took me by surprise but I quickly answered "Yes, I was Dean's high school coach." He then offered the following: "I just did surgery on his broken leg." I asked, "How did the surgery go?" With a undeniable sadness and looking directly into my eyes, the surgeon spoke these words, "Coach, your boy has greater battles facing him than broken bones." I went back to tell the Harris family that I was going home and I would be in touch; I hugged both 'Tree' and Hazel before leaving; the look on younger brother, Hank's face pierced my mind forever.
The next day, I was umpiring at the SIUE complex. During the game, Steve Porter, Alton Telegraph sports' writer called me to the side. He told me that he just received word that Dean had died. I was not surprised but I was shocked; shocked to the extent I wanted to run away, I wanted to scream aloud; I wanted to sit in the grass and cry. The game over, I walked directly to my automobile nearby. Porter followed me with a request for...'some words about Dean.' I told him to give me a minute and he obliged. I sat down in my automobile and just cried for several minutes; I have never cried any harder. A terrible accident took two lives of two people. A son and brother from the Harris family and a sweet wife and mother from the Hartman family.
Part 3 Tomorrow...Goodbye to 'The Dream.'
Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
A Bitter-Sweet Remembrance
I have thought of him frequently over these past thirty-nine years and in moments, I 'still' find it difficult not to imagine 'what might' have been. His six foot seven inch frame carried less than two hundred pounds in poetic gliding motions across a basketball court as he displayed perhaps the most complete all-around skills of any basketball player I ever coached. Dean Harris was not the best shooter or the best rebounder; he did not have the best passing skills and he may not have been the best defensive player from my 37-varsity high school teams; he was undoubtedly the best at all talents combined; a truly complete basketball player.
I was no stranger to the Harris family. Dean's father, Earl 'Tree' Harris was the long time East St. Louis 'Lincoln' high school basketball coach and I was his team's teenage foe from 1955-through-1957. I would be on the Regional championship court at Cahokia high school when Harris' 27-0 Lincoln team would lose to my East Side 'Flyers' proving how difficult it is to beat any team three times in a season.
In my second varsity coaching season at Mason City high school, I brought the 'Tree' Harris coached (predominately 'Black') Lincoln 'Tigers' to that all-White community for one of the most exciting basketball games I ever coached. Earl 'Tree' Harris' genuine friendliness and class served as a model and alongside a beautiful wife, Hazel they gave the world terrific children of the same ilk. Two of their boys would come into my life and remain as wonderful memories and heart tugging recall.
Dean's senior basketball season at Lincoln high school (East St. Louis) was not to be when father 'Tree' decided his talented son needed the exposure of a guaranteed schedule of competitive games in the prestigious Southwestern Conference. 'Tree' and Hazel moved Dean and his younger brother, Hank to Edwardsville where they would play for my 'Tigers.' The immediate and long-lasting impact of the Harris family was positive for that student body and the community. To a person the Harris family was sincere in friendliness and demonstrated a genuine living-style and politeness...they were easy to embrace; they were lovable people.
Dean made a great impact on our basketball team and school. On the court, he would rebound, score and defend anyone. One Friday night, Dean completely shut down the offense of a 5' 9" high scoring SW Conference guard from Belleville West high school and the very next night he held a 6' 9" SW Conference leading-scorer (29 PPG) to a mere nine tallies. He could smother an offensive player. Perhaps just as eye capturing as his basketball aptitude was Dean's actions immediately after a home basketball contest. He would shake hands with opponents and then walk directly to the area where his mother Hazel was seated and climb several rows into the packed bleachers and lean-forward to kiss his mother's check. Dean demonstrated to those around him that he was gifted and could do marvelous things on a basketball court but more importantly he showed the world that his father had taught him well as Dean's actions stated loud and clear, 'my mother is my greatest gift.'
In retrospect, Dean gave me and my coaching staff a hilarious moment one basketball evening at an Edwardsville home game. The contest was perhaps 3-minutes into the first quarter when Dean took it upon himself and called a time out. The entire staff was stunned; players of mine did NOT call time outs...the Coach called time out! When Dean and his mates approached the bench, I said, "What are you thinking, Dean?" Dean replied matter-of-fact, "Coach, I think I need to poop." Never before or never since did that scenario happen. I put a replacement in for Dean as he went to the locker room to find relief. Some 'time passed' and I sent one of my assistants to the locker room to find out what was taking Dean so long. The assistant returned with Dean on his heels. It seems as though Dean had gotten engrossed in a Sports' Illustrated magazine during the poo-poo moment.
Dean 'The Dream' part 2 comes Monday: The kid from East St. Louis packs the Edwardsville gym one final time.
I was no stranger to the Harris family. Dean's father, Earl 'Tree' Harris was the long time East St. Louis 'Lincoln' high school basketball coach and I was his team's teenage foe from 1955-through-1957. I would be on the Regional championship court at Cahokia high school when Harris' 27-0 Lincoln team would lose to my East Side 'Flyers' proving how difficult it is to beat any team three times in a season.
In my second varsity coaching season at Mason City high school, I brought the 'Tree' Harris coached (predominately 'Black') Lincoln 'Tigers' to that all-White community for one of the most exciting basketball games I ever coached. Earl 'Tree' Harris' genuine friendliness and class served as a model and alongside a beautiful wife, Hazel they gave the world terrific children of the same ilk. Two of their boys would come into my life and remain as wonderful memories and heart tugging recall.
Dean's senior basketball season at Lincoln high school (East St. Louis) was not to be when father 'Tree' decided his talented son needed the exposure of a guaranteed schedule of competitive games in the prestigious Southwestern Conference. 'Tree' and Hazel moved Dean and his younger brother, Hank to Edwardsville where they would play for my 'Tigers.' The immediate and long-lasting impact of the Harris family was positive for that student body and the community. To a person the Harris family was sincere in friendliness and demonstrated a genuine living-style and politeness...they were easy to embrace; they were lovable people.
Dean made a great impact on our basketball team and school. On the court, he would rebound, score and defend anyone. One Friday night, Dean completely shut down the offense of a 5' 9" high scoring SW Conference guard from Belleville West high school and the very next night he held a 6' 9" SW Conference leading-scorer (29 PPG) to a mere nine tallies. He could smother an offensive player. Perhaps just as eye capturing as his basketball aptitude was Dean's actions immediately after a home basketball contest. He would shake hands with opponents and then walk directly to the area where his mother Hazel was seated and climb several rows into the packed bleachers and lean-forward to kiss his mother's check. Dean demonstrated to those around him that he was gifted and could do marvelous things on a basketball court but more importantly he showed the world that his father had taught him well as Dean's actions stated loud and clear, 'my mother is my greatest gift.'
In retrospect, Dean gave me and my coaching staff a hilarious moment one basketball evening at an Edwardsville home game. The contest was perhaps 3-minutes into the first quarter when Dean took it upon himself and called a time out. The entire staff was stunned; players of mine did NOT call time outs...the Coach called time out! When Dean and his mates approached the bench, I said, "What are you thinking, Dean?" Dean replied matter-of-fact, "Coach, I think I need to poop." Never before or never since did that scenario happen. I put a replacement in for Dean as he went to the locker room to find relief. Some 'time passed' and I sent one of my assistants to the locker room to find out what was taking Dean so long. The assistant returned with Dean on his heels. It seems as though Dean had gotten engrossed in a Sports' Illustrated magazine during the poo-poo moment.
Dean 'The Dream' part 2 comes Monday: The kid from East St. Louis packs the Edwardsville gym one final time.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
What's a Fella To Do?
Let me cut directly to the 'chase,' it ain't always easy being grandparents. First, my wife and I are both extreme control freaks and I especially, tend to be the endless orchestrating manipulative ass. Gee, it feels refreshingly good to express myself so straightforward with succinct honesty.
I will not indict my wife's family, but will disclose about my family, I come from a long line of folks with a built-in (DNA) desire to 'tell' others how things ought to be. Let me explain this lineage. My wife and I had a terrific relationship with our parents after we married. We sometimes sought their opinions and many times we took the advice. On those occasions that we rejected the advice, we did so quietly without any fanfare or 'public announcement.' My parents would visit our home and my father would decide the living room furniture should be rearranged and by-hell, he'd rearrange it! Once in awhile, we liked his design and we would leave as he moved. Most often, we put our furniture back the way it was as soon as we viewed my father's automobile tail-lights go out of sight.
My mother-in law, on the other hand, was as subtle as a punch in the nose. Example: Shortly after we married, my wife's obgyn Doctor discovered a fibroid cyst in her breast. We had taken my mother-in law to the movies the evening that my wife told her mom about the pending surgery to remove the cyst. Mother-in law, Vi said, "Well, I heyda; say (I knew immediately that she could hardly wait to SAY the next sentence and most definitely it would be brutal), "Well, I heyday say but she didn't have that cyst before she was married!" How the hell does a son-in law respond to that comment? I had several clever and funny 'come backs' flash through my brain, but I stifled them all for the good of the order!
When it comes to my children and grandchildren, I am a worrying and a praying Boompa. (Boompa would be my grandparent handle).
Sometimes my kids seek advice and I then understand that which I should worry about. Other times, I know there are some issues but I am kept in the dark; I then have no clue why I'm worrying. My wife gives her advice and paints a rosy outcome...good girl is that Nana.
What I don't 'cotton' to is my kids asking advice and then arguing with me if I give the 'wrong' advice. What's that? Hells bells, if you don't like my suggestion don't take it...it's kinda like my father 'moving' the furniture. I must stop now. I just noticed a tailless squirrel running around in the backyard and the toy poodle, Yodie is right on his tailless ass. I don't want that pup to tangle with that damn thing!
I will not indict my wife's family, but will disclose about my family, I come from a long line of folks with a built-in (DNA) desire to 'tell' others how things ought to be. Let me explain this lineage. My wife and I had a terrific relationship with our parents after we married. We sometimes sought their opinions and many times we took the advice. On those occasions that we rejected the advice, we did so quietly without any fanfare or 'public announcement.' My parents would visit our home and my father would decide the living room furniture should be rearranged and by-hell, he'd rearrange it! Once in awhile, we liked his design and we would leave as he moved. Most often, we put our furniture back the way it was as soon as we viewed my father's automobile tail-lights go out of sight.
My mother-in law, on the other hand, was as subtle as a punch in the nose. Example: Shortly after we married, my wife's obgyn Doctor discovered a fibroid cyst in her breast. We had taken my mother-in law to the movies the evening that my wife told her mom about the pending surgery to remove the cyst. Mother-in law, Vi said, "Well, I heyda; say (I knew immediately that she could hardly wait to SAY the next sentence and most definitely it would be brutal), "Well, I heyday say but she didn't have that cyst before she was married!" How the hell does a son-in law respond to that comment? I had several clever and funny 'come backs' flash through my brain, but I stifled them all for the good of the order!
When it comes to my children and grandchildren, I am a worrying and a praying Boompa. (Boompa would be my grandparent handle).
Sometimes my kids seek advice and I then understand that which I should worry about. Other times, I know there are some issues but I am kept in the dark; I then have no clue why I'm worrying. My wife gives her advice and paints a rosy outcome...good girl is that Nana.
What I don't 'cotton' to is my kids asking advice and then arguing with me if I give the 'wrong' advice. What's that? Hells bells, if you don't like my suggestion don't take it...it's kinda like my father 'moving' the furniture. I must stop now. I just noticed a tailless squirrel running around in the backyard and the toy poodle, Yodie is right on his tailless ass. I don't want that pup to tangle with that damn thing!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
A TranscendingTip
I usually send coaching tips to my son, Steve during the basketball season. I have prepared this 'tip' first and will send it soon as he prepares for the 2013-14 season. This coaching tip perhaps resonates with non-coaches therefore, I share it in today's blog posting.
"No mother ever gave birth to failure and rare is the father who challenges the mother"...and "If it's animal it will die; if it's mechanical it will break; everything else CHANGES." Parenting has changed and it impacts every occupation that deals with youngsters. I wish not to 'beat a dead horse' but accept this reality: many people perceive the World War II generation of folks as the greatest and yet today's parents shun that generations' parenting style as they reject any notion of firmness. Many of today's 'overprotective' parents shudder at any thought of a 'smack-on-the-butt' approach to curbing bad behavior. Instilling accountability and responsibility traits in today's children is trumped by a larger concern for the child's psyche and 'feelings.' Today's parents subscribe to the modern day gobbledygook parenting-style of 'don't bruise the child's ego/psyche!' To illustrate: My parents 'told' me to come in, put the toys away and take a bath and get ready for bed; never did they pose that expectation in the form of a question, i.e., 'don't you think it's time to get ready for bed?' Come on people, many things 'enter' our lives and we are expected, without a choice, to make adjustments, tolerate and persevere. The sooner the child 'learns' they must function and persist in spite of difficulties and following guidelines they have a leg-up understanding reality and thus are on a road to happiness and success.
The student-athlete who enters middle/high school is a product of overprotective-coddling. Their parents spent exorbitant amounts of money on their kid's clothing and entertainment while making available every possible activity and standing nearby bent on ensuring fair treatment. In many instances, parents covered that perceived 'entitlement' notion by being 'the team's coach.' The only way for the school 'coach' to maintain order and 'teach' sport in today's environment is to create peer-competition-practices that will send strong messages to these soft and tender-skin kids about skill level realities and comparative ranking.
The school mentor should have a mandatory pre-season parent-student/athlete meeting where every aspect of the programs expectations are clearly outlined. This means what coach expects of mommy/daddy and the kid as well as what those folks can expect from the coach and school. Questions are answered. Parents are told that they may telephone during the season with additional questions but those answers will only be forthcoming during a meeting with parents and student athlete at coach's office. One meeting per family per year...no exceptions!! Coaches should not feel above the process of explain what, how and why things are done. After 'one' private meeting, the athlete is eventually asked it he/she wishes to continue as a team member after 'hearing the conversation exchanges. That choice is accepted with the understanding that no more meetings shall happen.
Finally, I will alert my coaching son to the reality that it is about a 50/50 chance that your school administration is weak. You must always be prepared to look for another job. My Alma mater, Illinois State's motto is, 'Gladly would he learn and gladly teach.' I contend that 'gladly' and 'bullshit' mix like oil and water.
"No mother ever gave birth to failure and rare is the father who challenges the mother"...and "If it's animal it will die; if it's mechanical it will break; everything else CHANGES." Parenting has changed and it impacts every occupation that deals with youngsters. I wish not to 'beat a dead horse' but accept this reality: many people perceive the World War II generation of folks as the greatest and yet today's parents shun that generations' parenting style as they reject any notion of firmness. Many of today's 'overprotective' parents shudder at any thought of a 'smack-on-the-butt' approach to curbing bad behavior. Instilling accountability and responsibility traits in today's children is trumped by a larger concern for the child's psyche and 'feelings.' Today's parents subscribe to the modern day gobbledygook parenting-style of 'don't bruise the child's ego/psyche!' To illustrate: My parents 'told' me to come in, put the toys away and take a bath and get ready for bed; never did they pose that expectation in the form of a question, i.e., 'don't you think it's time to get ready for bed?' Come on people, many things 'enter' our lives and we are expected, without a choice, to make adjustments, tolerate and persevere. The sooner the child 'learns' they must function and persist in spite of difficulties and following guidelines they have a leg-up understanding reality and thus are on a road to happiness and success.
The student-athlete who enters middle/high school is a product of overprotective-coddling. Their parents spent exorbitant amounts of money on their kid's clothing and entertainment while making available every possible activity and standing nearby bent on ensuring fair treatment. In many instances, parents covered that perceived 'entitlement' notion by being 'the team's coach.' The only way for the school 'coach' to maintain order and 'teach' sport in today's environment is to create peer-competition-practices that will send strong messages to these soft and tender-skin kids about skill level realities and comparative ranking.
The school mentor should have a mandatory pre-season parent-student/athlete meeting where every aspect of the programs expectations are clearly outlined. This means what coach expects of mommy/daddy and the kid as well as what those folks can expect from the coach and school. Questions are answered. Parents are told that they may telephone during the season with additional questions but those answers will only be forthcoming during a meeting with parents and student athlete at coach's office. One meeting per family per year...no exceptions!! Coaches should not feel above the process of explain what, how and why things are done. After 'one' private meeting, the athlete is eventually asked it he/she wishes to continue as a team member after 'hearing the conversation exchanges. That choice is accepted with the understanding that no more meetings shall happen.
Finally, I will alert my coaching son to the reality that it is about a 50/50 chance that your school administration is weak. You must always be prepared to look for another job. My Alma mater, Illinois State's motto is, 'Gladly would he learn and gladly teach.' I contend that 'gladly' and 'bullshit' mix like oil and water.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
'You Sexy Thing'
I am somewhat negative and hard on you social-media buffs however, I owe you a (shout out) thank you for a special telephone call that my wife and I received last evening. My son, Steve got into that face book 'friending-stuff ' recently and the end result was good for old coach.
One special ball player I coached from a very special team was last night's surprise caller. It was Michael 'Hot Chocolate' Hammonds, a member of the 1975-76, Edwardsville 'Tigers' high school State (Sweet 16) basketball team. The team picture remains on my office wall these many years with other special mementos. That team's basketball players was unique in many ways. First and foremost, they truly enjoyed and liked one another. Secondly, they were collectively 'over achievers.' Thirdly, they had a tendency to 'push' the social behavior expectation envelop. The latter contributed to some of my grey-hairs. Lastly, they were coachable.
The squad members were Fred Barton, Hank Harris, Gary Reichmann, Jeff Hornberger, Michael Hammonds, Dennis Braundemeir, Brad Drda, Seth Rankin, Brad Gregor, Steve Tyler, Greg Barton and Mike Brady. My coaching staff included assistants, Steve Moss, Tom Pile and Ken Hickman. We had a 2-10 record in a very tough Southwestern Conference however, we were some kind of tournament team. The Tigers won their Christmas Holiday Tournament, the Jacksonville Mid-Year Tournament, the Regional and Sectional Tournaments before bowing out at the SIU-Carbondale Super-Sectional against Marion by two-points.
Every player on that 1976 Edwardsville State Team contributed to our success as we ended a 20-year Sweet Sixteen drought. Michael Hammonds also gave a signature song to our season. He was constantly singing the song, 'You Sexy Thing,' which has a line that says, "I believe in miracles, you sexy thing..." The song was sung by the group, 'Hot Chocolate;' now you know the origin of Michael's nickname-'handle.' Michael played some exhibition basketball with Marcus Haynes' Harlem Magicians for a brief period. Michael and the legendary, Haynes surprised me one night. I had contracted the Magicians to play an exhibition game in Jacksonville (circa 1990); Michael had not played with the Magicians for some years but flew in from Houston, Texas dressed and played with Marcus and the Magicians that particular night...I cherish the photo of the three of us taken court side that evening. The photo has hung in my office next to the Edwardsville high school '76 State Team for nearly twenty-five years.
Over my thirty-seven year coaching career, I was blessed with some outstanding players and I try not to get caught up in any individual comparisons; too many variables and too many role-playing circumstances. I had three teams to make the Sweet 16 level State Tournament. All 37 of my teams combined for 546 victories and put their 'Coach' in the Illinois Basketball Coaches Hall-of-Fame...I thank each and every person.
In the future, I shall try to stifle my cynical attitude towards social-networking as I acknowledge and thank you for putting the 'old-fella' in the loop. I hold a special 'love' for all who joined me in every aspect of my coaching journey; you all remain a Blessing.
I hope our '76 'Tigers' can get together this November; looking forward to the guys joining Hot Chocolate in a rendition of 'You Sexy Thing.'
One special ball player I coached from a very special team was last night's surprise caller. It was Michael 'Hot Chocolate' Hammonds, a member of the 1975-76, Edwardsville 'Tigers' high school State (Sweet 16) basketball team. The team picture remains on my office wall these many years with other special mementos. That team's basketball players was unique in many ways. First and foremost, they truly enjoyed and liked one another. Secondly, they were collectively 'over achievers.' Thirdly, they had a tendency to 'push' the social behavior expectation envelop. The latter contributed to some of my grey-hairs. Lastly, they were coachable.
The squad members were Fred Barton, Hank Harris, Gary Reichmann, Jeff Hornberger, Michael Hammonds, Dennis Braundemeir, Brad Drda, Seth Rankin, Brad Gregor, Steve Tyler, Greg Barton and Mike Brady. My coaching staff included assistants, Steve Moss, Tom Pile and Ken Hickman. We had a 2-10 record in a very tough Southwestern Conference however, we were some kind of tournament team. The Tigers won their Christmas Holiday Tournament, the Jacksonville Mid-Year Tournament, the Regional and Sectional Tournaments before bowing out at the SIU-Carbondale Super-Sectional against Marion by two-points.
Every player on that 1976 Edwardsville State Team contributed to our success as we ended a 20-year Sweet Sixteen drought. Michael Hammonds also gave a signature song to our season. He was constantly singing the song, 'You Sexy Thing,' which has a line that says, "I believe in miracles, you sexy thing..." The song was sung by the group, 'Hot Chocolate;' now you know the origin of Michael's nickname-'handle.' Michael played some exhibition basketball with Marcus Haynes' Harlem Magicians for a brief period. Michael and the legendary, Haynes surprised me one night. I had contracted the Magicians to play an exhibition game in Jacksonville (circa 1990); Michael had not played with the Magicians for some years but flew in from Houston, Texas dressed and played with Marcus and the Magicians that particular night...I cherish the photo of the three of us taken court side that evening. The photo has hung in my office next to the Edwardsville high school '76 State Team for nearly twenty-five years.
Over my thirty-seven year coaching career, I was blessed with some outstanding players and I try not to get caught up in any individual comparisons; too many variables and too many role-playing circumstances. I had three teams to make the Sweet 16 level State Tournament. All 37 of my teams combined for 546 victories and put their 'Coach' in the Illinois Basketball Coaches Hall-of-Fame...I thank each and every person.
In the future, I shall try to stifle my cynical attitude towards social-networking as I acknowledge and thank you for putting the 'old-fella' in the loop. I hold a special 'love' for all who joined me in every aspect of my coaching journey; you all remain a Blessing.
I hope our '76 'Tigers' can get together this November; looking forward to the guys joining Hot Chocolate in a rendition of 'You Sexy Thing.'
Monday, September 23, 2013
'Please Remember'
My wife and I attended a great-nephew's wedding reception this weekend past. It is always wonderful to come together with extended family and friends at such gatherings. Too often in this senior-season of life, we find ourselves hugging relatives at wake-visitations and funerals. A visitor to our dinner table asked my wife and I about our children and grandchildren. At some point the question was offered to me. "Mel, the inquirer asked, if you had only one day remaining in your life what would you want to tell your grandchildren?" That is a great question and I took the address of the person posing the question and told him that I would send a copy of a letter, which I sent to my grandkids a couple of years back; I share that letter with you readers today:
Dear Grandkids:
My emotional investment in each of you causes me to wish for an endless journey observing the unfolding of each potential. I know this cannot be, therefore I wish for you all to remember the following:
Your life will note many technological and social changes. Nevertheless, the keys to happiness will remain constant throughout your lives. (Read on and perhaps re-read). At times you will feel insignificant and thus be tempted to believe that you cannot make a difference. Don't buy into that cynical attitude; you will best serve yourself and others by embracing a spirited attitude and conviction that the world needs everything you have to offer. Adopt the willingness to say, YES...I CAN!
Do not dare fall victim to the meaningless cavity that you have some 'handicap' or disadvantage. Keep your eyes on the goal to serve others; even the self-centered people that you are certain to meet during this journey; these people also need your love, compassion and often times your help. Give without compromising your spirit or personal principles.
Remember that life offers no guarantees. Ever thing you attempt carries the risk of rejection and/or failure. Learn from rejection but be NOT discouraged. Failure need not be a final circumstance; however, living with the 'fear of failure' will cause emotional paralysis and will render you ineffective. Each of you have talents. You must be persistence seeking and developing the courage to apply those talents where they are most needed.
Find out early in life who you are and that which is your purpose. If you fail to attain this mission you lead an empty and nonsensical life. The happiest people I have ever known are those people 'doing' (occupation) that they truly want to do while seeking to fulfill Gods request... "That which you do for the least of My people you do also for Me."
Never stop dreaming and always look to improve the human condition. You matter to others.
God speed; God bless
Finally, memorize these two personal notes: (1) A sunset is best when shared. (2) Get a dog because it will 'think' you are the greatest and on that matter you need no second opinion.
Dear Grandkids:
My emotional investment in each of you causes me to wish for an endless journey observing the unfolding of each potential. I know this cannot be, therefore I wish for you all to remember the following:
Your life will note many technological and social changes. Nevertheless, the keys to happiness will remain constant throughout your lives. (Read on and perhaps re-read). At times you will feel insignificant and thus be tempted to believe that you cannot make a difference. Don't buy into that cynical attitude; you will best serve yourself and others by embracing a spirited attitude and conviction that the world needs everything you have to offer. Adopt the willingness to say, YES...I CAN!
Do not dare fall victim to the meaningless cavity that you have some 'handicap' or disadvantage. Keep your eyes on the goal to serve others; even the self-centered people that you are certain to meet during this journey; these people also need your love, compassion and often times your help. Give without compromising your spirit or personal principles.
Remember that life offers no guarantees. Ever thing you attempt carries the risk of rejection and/or failure. Learn from rejection but be NOT discouraged. Failure need not be a final circumstance; however, living with the 'fear of failure' will cause emotional paralysis and will render you ineffective. Each of you have talents. You must be persistence seeking and developing the courage to apply those talents where they are most needed.
Find out early in life who you are and that which is your purpose. If you fail to attain this mission you lead an empty and nonsensical life. The happiest people I have ever known are those people 'doing' (occupation) that they truly want to do while seeking to fulfill Gods request... "That which you do for the least of My people you do also for Me."
Never stop dreaming and always look to improve the human condition. You matter to others.
God speed; God bless
Finally, memorize these two personal notes: (1) A sunset is best when shared. (2) Get a dog because it will 'think' you are the greatest and on that matter you need no second opinion.
Friday, September 20, 2013
A Humble Champ
Former heavyweight boxing champion, Ken Norton, Sr. died this week. Norton was born, raised and played high school sports in Jacksonville, Illinois. He graduated from JHS after a stellar high school athletic career where he excelled in football, basketball and track. During his senior track season, Norton entered and finished first in eight (8) track & field State Finals events, which prompted the Illinois High School Association to enact a rule limiting athletes to three (3) events in the State Track Meet; 'The Norton Rule.'
My twenty-one year Jacksonville high school coaching career began 14 years after Norton graduated but our paths met on two occasions. The year was 1984, and the JHS Hall-of-Fame inaugural induction ceremony was conducted at a local capacity-filled banquet room in that west-central Illinois community. Norton was amongst the 12- charter-member inductees. We visited briefly that night. I conducted a telephone interview with Norton earlier that day on my WLDS Sports' Spotlight Show. One of Norton's sons, Keith had remained in Jacksonville and was a starting guard on a very good 1984, Crimsons' varsity basketball team. Ken's other son, Ken Jr. was enrolled in Jacksonville high school briefly in the early 1980's before leaving for the West coast where his father lived.
The late, Al Rosenberger was a longtime JHS Track & Field coach. He not only coached Ken Norton, Sr. but Al and his wife remained close (visiting) friends with the Norton's. Rosenberger was Norton's mentor during his youth and that relationship was treasured throughout their adult lives. Al was athletic director at JHS in my early years at that school and he shared this story about Ken, which offers a glimpse of Norton's personality and quick wit as a teenager. In the first half of a JHS 'home' basketball contest, Norton had played poorly and had made some bad decisions on the floor. As the half ended Norton raced to the locker room ahead of what he thought would be a frustrated and mad head coach, John Chapman. Assistant Coach Rosenberger entered the locker room with Coach Chapman and both noticed Norton doing a 'headstand' against the wall. A puzzled and angry Coach Chapman said, "Norton, what the hell are you doing?" Norton's response, "Coach, I know I've made some dumb plays the first half so I'm trying to get more blood in my head so I can think better."
The next time I visited with Norton would be our last visit. Norton returned often to Jacksonville to visit his mother, Ruth and father, John; he cherished his parents as did the entire Jacksonville community; they were kind people with sweet and sincere dispositions.
Ken had nearly died in a fatal car crash in 1986. It was in the early 1990's when my home telephone rang and the soft-distinguishable voice of Ken Norton, Sr. was on the other end. He wanted to know if I could open the JHS Hall-of-Fame room so that he might see the Norton display he had placed on loan; namely his World Championship Boxing Belt. I met Ken at the facility and as he walked slowly towards me, I could see that the auto accident had taken a devastating toll on his once steel-chiseled athletic frame. His gate was slow and a bit uncertain and his words were delivered slowly. We shook hands as he thanked me in that deep-raspy but soft spoken voice. Norton always impressed me as the antithesis to the great and boastful Muhammad Ali.
We spoke at length that afternoon in The Bowl (gymnasium) that must have held a myriad of memories for this great world-renowned athlete. Norton told me a personal story that day, which he seemed to cherish. He said that when he awakened from his post-auto accident coma, he looked around the darkened hospital room to see his long time rival and dear friend...Ali who had spent the night's bedside vigil hoping and praying for a foe turned friend. Norton smiled recalling the story saying, "You understand, Coach, Ali is a kind and good man but he didn't want the press to know that he was there all night." I suppose we all hold (a bit) to our ego-protecting image.
Before Ken Norton Sr. departed from the JHS Bowl and Hall-of-Fame facility that day, he extended his hand and once again thanked me for accommodating his request. We locked eyes during that handshake and Norton said, "Next time I'm in Jacksonville we'll meet and chat again, Coach"
Thanks for the memories, Champ. I hope we can have that chat on the 'other side.'
My twenty-one year Jacksonville high school coaching career began 14 years after Norton graduated but our paths met on two occasions. The year was 1984, and the JHS Hall-of-Fame inaugural induction ceremony was conducted at a local capacity-filled banquet room in that west-central Illinois community. Norton was amongst the 12- charter-member inductees. We visited briefly that night. I conducted a telephone interview with Norton earlier that day on my WLDS Sports' Spotlight Show. One of Norton's sons, Keith had remained in Jacksonville and was a starting guard on a very good 1984, Crimsons' varsity basketball team. Ken's other son, Ken Jr. was enrolled in Jacksonville high school briefly in the early 1980's before leaving for the West coast where his father lived.
The late, Al Rosenberger was a longtime JHS Track & Field coach. He not only coached Ken Norton, Sr. but Al and his wife remained close (visiting) friends with the Norton's. Rosenberger was Norton's mentor during his youth and that relationship was treasured throughout their adult lives. Al was athletic director at JHS in my early years at that school and he shared this story about Ken, which offers a glimpse of Norton's personality and quick wit as a teenager. In the first half of a JHS 'home' basketball contest, Norton had played poorly and had made some bad decisions on the floor. As the half ended Norton raced to the locker room ahead of what he thought would be a frustrated and mad head coach, John Chapman. Assistant Coach Rosenberger entered the locker room with Coach Chapman and both noticed Norton doing a 'headstand' against the wall. A puzzled and angry Coach Chapman said, "Norton, what the hell are you doing?" Norton's response, "Coach, I know I've made some dumb plays the first half so I'm trying to get more blood in my head so I can think better."
The next time I visited with Norton would be our last visit. Norton returned often to Jacksonville to visit his mother, Ruth and father, John; he cherished his parents as did the entire Jacksonville community; they were kind people with sweet and sincere dispositions.
Ken had nearly died in a fatal car crash in 1986. It was in the early 1990's when my home telephone rang and the soft-distinguishable voice of Ken Norton, Sr. was on the other end. He wanted to know if I could open the JHS Hall-of-Fame room so that he might see the Norton display he had placed on loan; namely his World Championship Boxing Belt. I met Ken at the facility and as he walked slowly towards me, I could see that the auto accident had taken a devastating toll on his once steel-chiseled athletic frame. His gate was slow and a bit uncertain and his words were delivered slowly. We shook hands as he thanked me in that deep-raspy but soft spoken voice. Norton always impressed me as the antithesis to the great and boastful Muhammad Ali.
We spoke at length that afternoon in The Bowl (gymnasium) that must have held a myriad of memories for this great world-renowned athlete. Norton told me a personal story that day, which he seemed to cherish. He said that when he awakened from his post-auto accident coma, he looked around the darkened hospital room to see his long time rival and dear friend...Ali who had spent the night's bedside vigil hoping and praying for a foe turned friend. Norton smiled recalling the story saying, "You understand, Coach, Ali is a kind and good man but he didn't want the press to know that he was there all night." I suppose we all hold (a bit) to our ego-protecting image.
Before Ken Norton Sr. departed from the JHS Bowl and Hall-of-Fame facility that day, he extended his hand and once again thanked me for accommodating his request. We locked eyes during that handshake and Norton said, "Next time I'm in Jacksonville we'll meet and chat again, Coach"
Thanks for the memories, Champ. I hope we can have that chat on the 'other side.'
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