Father Bly led us with his wisdom, faith and humor

Note: For some reason, I was asked to speak at the Feb. 4 funeral of Father Walter Bly, longtime teacher and freshman football coach at Saint Joseph High School. Here is the framework for what I shared with some edits to, hopefully, make it more appealing to a wider audience..

When my friend Marty Ogren (see below) called to ask if I’d speak at Father Bly’s funeral Mass at Corpus Christi in South Bend, one question popped into my head … what can I possibly say about Father Bly that hasn’t been said before? Everyone who ever had the opportunity to know Father — whether as one of his students, one of his players, one of his fellow teachers, one of his fellow priests or one of his parishioners —- has a story about him. A lot of stories appeared in texts, on social media and at last week’s visitation and funeral as memories came rushing back.

I think of the voice that so many of us tried to mimic. The powerful way he approached his job as a soldier, priest, theology teacher, freshman football coach, team chaplain and mentor to high schoolers from disparate neighborhoods around the region. How he taught us to tackle with our faces. Yes, our faces. He sometimes stressed his points by walking up our shins with his cleats on. The gray flannel coaching pants that made him look, feel and sound like Vince Lombardi, his hero. The way he taught us the difference between Romanesque and Baroque architecture or expounded about Nebuchadnezzar or Finn McCool. His relentless and intense faith in God.

Father Bly’s unique speech pattern (I guarantee those who knew him can hear it right now) would always spike at just the right moment, whether in the classroom, on the football field or at the pulpit. He simply knew how to drive his point home with sharp, purposeful inflection. I’ve never met anyone who could command a room better than Father Bly. Fittingly, he commanded the room again at his funeral … in the Church he so dearly loved.

I can only hope Father shared some of his stories with Saint Peter when he checked in at the Pearly Gates:

— Stories about that magical Saint Joseph state championship run in 1995.

— Stories about the rough and tumble “Green Bay-Chicago” freshmen intrasquad game, played on Saturday mornings on the uneven and rock-strewn land just west of the old Saint Joe High School.

— About when he “sanctified” his team, stopping his freshmen from walking on the practice field where Saint Joe blood and sweat had been spilled. These newbies just didn’t deserve the right to be on the field until he said his special prayers.

— About when Collin Kubsch returned a kick for a touchdown in a varsity game. Collin felt pretty good about himself, only to be greeted on the sideline by the team chaplain (Father Bly) who deflated his ego by saying, “The fat kid almost caught you.”

— About when Father Bly asked lineman Billy Spromberg who he was blocking during practice, and Billy’s response was “Wedge, Father,” using a nickname for Larry Vavul. Father’s immediate response was, “Who the hell is Wedge?”

— Or about when he told our freshman team that his ailing mother was in a Volkswagen Beetle near the end zone and couldn’t bear to watch us lose as we struggled against Mishawaka. We never saw his mother, and I’m not so sure he didn’t say this every year, but I do know we won the game.

— Or about the way he would tell slightly injured players they must have tweaked their “frammus,” which was a made-up muscle, tendon or bone that existed only as an inside joke among the coaching staff.

— Or about the catapult or ram’s horn — visual aids he so cleverly weaved into classroom lessons.

— Or how he would compare notes with another local legend, Moe Aronson, the freshman coach at John Adams High school.

— Or about how Father referred to our Catholic rivals from Mishawaka as “Mary Anne.” Last summer during a brief 90th birthday celebration, he was asked if the mispronunciation was intentional. Father just gave a wry smile, turned and changed the subject.

These stories and countless others will live forever because Father Bly will live forever in our hearts and minds. In short, this Indiana Football Coaches Association Hall of Famer was bigger than life.

I happen to believe we all have a guardian angel and Father’s exists in the person of Marty Ogren — Father’s assistant coach and his best friend for 50-plus years. We could all learn about being a good citizen from Marty Ogren, who started as Father’s assistant coach at the tender age of 16. Quietly and humbly, Marty neither sought nor wanted recognition, and he was always there when Father summoned.

I can’t think of Father Bly without thinking of Marty, a legend in his own right after many years as transportation director at Notre Dame. Marty was also Father Hesburgh’s personal driver and the man who made sure presidents, vice presidents and other luminaries arrived on campus — on time, safely and without drama. I think of Marty as Father Bly’s silent, loyal and loving right-hand man, and I’m sure Father  is keeping a seat warm for him in Heaven. He’ll simply greet him with an “All Right Marty,” and things will be right again in the universe.

Father Bly left an indelible mark on so many of us during his 90 years on earth. I think of so many great coaches, players, educators, community leaders, captains of industry and average Joes like me whose lives are so much richer, so much more complete because we met him.

May God Bless Father Walter John Bly.