While
finishing up a relaxing dinner Wednesday night I heard the unwelcome sound of
the revving motorcycle ringtone on my mobile device and reluctantly walked into
the kitchen to retrieve the phone and see who was calling. Thankfully, I
recognized the name that popped up on the screen as my good friend and NFL
agent Chuck Price. It would be a better story to go on about how he was calling
to suggest I vindicate my embarrassing collegiate punting career by suiting up
as a modern day George Blanda for the Redskins this weekend, but being a good
judge of gridiron talent and a successful agent, that’s not why he was calling.
As it turns out he was sitting out in California with
Rahim and Hasan Mohamed, a couple of former players of ours dating back to our
high school coaching days at Fairfax High School in Los Angeles. The two
talented brothers had been our quarterbacks back in the early 90s (first
Rahim…then his younger brother Hassan), and both of them also started in the
secondary for me on our defensive squads (almost everybody played both
ways). Rahim and Hassan also lead the Fairfax Lions to consecutive undefeated
league titles, all while maintaining decent grades which they both parlayed
into college football careers and solid four-year degrees.
Chuck opened the call by saying the three of them were
sitting around after practice (they’re now all coaching part time at a school
in LA) telling old stories and they started laughing when the conversation
moved to me. He handed the phone to Hassan first, and though it’s been over 20
years, we started reminiscing and laughing as though we were still standing on
the Fairfax Ave field of the West Hollywood campus. After talking and cutting
up a bit with Hassan, he passed the phone to his brother. Rahim and I also were
also instantly time-warped back to the early nineties, and it was good to laugh
and catch up with a great former player…and a now successful fully matured
adult. Both brothers are doing well, have families, and are working as coaches
molding the lives of young athletes. It was good to chat with the guys…and
though it’s been over 20 years since those glorious football seasons at
Fairfax, whenever I run into any of the “kids” from those great teams, they
almost always make it a point to pass along thanks for the impact their coaches
had on their lives.
Though I now reside in the east, each Fall I make a
trek to Los Angeles and always take in an inner-city high school game while
there (Last year it was Fairfax vs. Dorsey at the famed Jackie Robinson Stadium
on Rodeo ((not the one in Beverly Hills)) Road on the west end of the Crenshaw
District). There is nothing like an inner-city game on a Friday night under the
lights, but the best part of the experience is that almost without fail, some
former player (or players) will inevitably walk up on the sidelines with a warm
fraternal greeting that transcends the decades. It is always so good to see
these guys all grown up…now…as not so young men. But the best part is they
always say thank you…over 20 years later…and to be honest…it always blows me
away.
Perhaps it is just the dynamic of teaching young
people that lends itself to the expression of gratitude from former students
(players) so many years down the road…I’m not really sure. I only know that it
really hasn’t happened in any other job I’ve ever held since…or in the one I
have now. Maybe 20 years from now folks will swing by the Sunrise Assisted
Living Facility on Connecticut to say thank you for the annoying memos I
sent them about not bringing their dog to work…but I’m thinking it won’t
happen. There’s something about teachers that are special…and though I’m now
50, I think almost daily about former educators and coaches and the
extraordinary impact they still have on my life still today.
Every Tuesday and Thursday morning I get up before 4am and head out for a run. As I limp through through the dark DC streets, I am tempted to ease up...or just plain pack it in. Almost without fail, just when the pitfalls of aging, red wine addiction and my general physical deterioration conspire to convince me to quit, I can literally hear and see my old football coach Don Threatt screaming at me. "Come on boy...is that the best you've got..that's a crying shame." Then, just as I did over thirty years ago...I suck it up and kick it into high gear. Three decades later, and he's still encouraging me to do better.
So…to Mrs. Frazier, Miss Chan, Miss Valenta,
Miss Ito, Miss Sedor, Mrs. McConnell, Mrs. Peterson, Mr. Mc Elrath, Mr. Pearlman, Mrs. Lee
(my piano teacher), Charlie Johnson, Leroy Nelson, Scott Porter, Gary Ledas,
Leslie Williams, Coach Threatt, Jimmy Petterson, Jerry Solender, Coach Hahn,
Coach Price, Coach Smith, Coach Donahue, Prof. Hoefer, Dr. Sue Schurman, Dr.
Louis Gawthrop, Amanda Pacheco, Bob Pleasure, Fred Kotler, Mark Breslin, Gene
Morrill, Jeff Grabelsky and most of all Mrs. Brungard, thank you for being the
extraordinary educators and coaches that continue to influence my life and
countless others every single day. It ain’t (only one of those named above
taught English) always easy…but there is no nobler profession. Thanks for being
a teacher. Thanks for making a difference. Thanks for making it last.
One of the best things several of named above passed along was an appreciation for all kinds of music. About the only good thing about this blog each Friday is the attached song. So, in honor of another week in the books, take a minute and listen to a little music. This one has been played here before...well over a year ago...but it's worth the repeat. Have a great weekend.
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