Editor’s note: Mark Bradford is contributing occasional posts from his diary on traveling the country with his wife Wendy while they rent out their Mishawaka home for six months.
Day 170 of our 190-day sojourn
December 12, 2023 — Homosassa, Florida
I just called him “Coach.”
Last week, I was sitting in the little coffee area at the YMCA in Lecanto Florida, which is about 30 minutes from where Wendy and I are currently living.
I prefer to sit alone and enjoy the coffee while I wait for Wendy to get out of her classes. I do my routine of walking, lifting, and stretching with the only reward of a small cup of joe, preferably without being bothered.
On this particular day, an older gentleman used his cane to maneuver to the table where I sat. “Mind if I sit here?” he said. “The other tables are full.”
I sighed. I don’t like idle chit-chat with older guys with canes. But I knew it would only be about a five-minute wait before Wendy’s class was over, so I told him sure. I was hoping he would grab the local paper and then ignore me, but he started a conversation. It turns out, he had coached several sports at the local high school and so we fell into a conversation about the current state of college sports.
I did not know it, but I was sitting with local high school royalty. As people strolled past on their way to the weight room, nearly everyone said, “Hi Coach,” to this guy. Apparently he had won a few things his school was not expecting to win and he also had taught the concept that high school sports were more about personal development than it was about wins but how those two things seem to go hand-in-hand.
When he found out I had experience as a sportswriter, we began swapping stories about games, parental interference, and how things that happen outside the lines are so much more important than what happens inside. The more we chatted, the more I hoped Wendy’s class would go longer.
His wife showed up to drive him home and, as he arose, he said, “You know, the best part about it all was the honor of being called ‘Coach.’” He said. “That title means everything, especially after you retire.”
I thought about those words. And then I thought about all the great coaches I met in the time that I was writing high school sports for the Elkhart Truth and the South Bend Tribune. None of them were perfect, but all of them were committed to the same goals as my new friend was back in the day. To coach young men and women in this day of cell-phone, child-entitlement, and helicopter-parenting, is even more challenging than it was 20 years ago when I coached my kids youth leagues.
I have nothing but respect for those men and women. I have a lot of great memories of those years, and many of them revolve around my relationships with the high school coaches.
Earlier today, I strode through the coffee area on my way to the weight room. I glanced to my right and there he sat.
“Hi Coach,” I said and waved.
He returned a smile.
It was a perfect moment.