Ready to Move On....I think.

The Last Ride- Please notice the ring on his right hand.  

I am sorry to bore you guys with this stuff again, but this is the anniversary of my Dad's death, and I am up here in Hazard, KY for some reason.  I really don't know why.  I just felt compelled to be with my Dad where I tossed his ashes into the deep cold waters of Carr Fork Lake one long year ago.  Is there a reason I am here?  I guess I will find out tomorrow before heading into Louisville.  Something happened to me yesterday that I cannot explain.  I just do not know.

See the ring on my Dad's right hand?  This is an ARMY Ring that he has worn for over 57 years.  It is engraved with: United States ARMY- 7th ARMY and the insignia on the side.  Of course it is well worn over the years, and the writing is barely visible in some areas.  I would imagine it is made from White-Gold or perhaps Pure Silver to last so long.  I have no idea what the red stone is or what it is supposed to represent...if anything.  I just know that Dad did not take off this ring in about 57 years...

My Son Mike- Look at his right hand.  

Many of you know that my son Michael is home from Afghanistan (he was stationed in Germany) and living near Ft. Stewart, Georgia.  I have not seen him in about two years.  Mike was deployed when Dad died, so he was not able to come home to be with his Poppo...they were very close.  Yesterday, I drove up to Ft. Stewart and visited my son and his new wife.  We unloaded my truck with various items from the family, and I finally sat down with my big boy on his living room couch. Then, I gave him one final surprise.  I opened up a ring box and showed him Poppo's ring.  I gifted this ring to my son.  Here is where it turned........lets say different.  

 Fit like it was made for him.   

I have to say something.  I do not believe in spirits.  I do not believe in the afterlife.  I do not believe in fortune tellers  or any of that stuff.  Ouija Boards freak me out.  However, I know what I saw...plain as day.  

Michael opened the box and slipped the ring on his right hand where his Poppo always wore it.  The ring fit like it was made especially for him.  Mike leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.  He put his hand on his knee like I have seen my Dad do thousands of times. I looked up at my son (still dressed in his Army ACUs)  and I about fell off the couch.  There sat my father...or what I imagined he looked like 57 years ago.  He was smiling at me..plain as day.  I literally closed my eyes and refocused on what I THOUGHT I was looking at...and Michael sitting there once again.  My eyes teared up as I looked at my son... Mike said: "Are you OK?"  I said: "yeah, I am fine."

 Truthfully I was a little rocked.  People who know me understand that this kind of stuff freaks me out.  I actually (jokingly) told both my Mom and My Dad  not to come visit me in the afterlife.  "Don't come floating around my room I used to say"  Mom and Dad both roared with laughter when I said that, and knowing my Old Man, he would do it just to see my reaction. I get this sense -of-humor from my Dad.  He used to tell my Grandma that he was going to spit in her eye while she was laying in the casket.   Of course he never did it, but we both had a nice little laugh during her funeral, 

I have no idea what to think.  I just know that I was flooded with pride and happiness at that moment.  I knew the ring went to the right person.  I think I am ready to let all this go now.  I think dad was telling me to move on...it's time.   Afterall, I can just look at my son when I want to see the old man for now on.  

My Dads Flag Flying in Afghanistan.  

 I will let you know if something weird happens tomorrow....at the lake.

GZ

The Ranky Dank

You know the worst part about my old man no longer being around?  I don't have anyone to talk with anymore.  I used to speak with my Dad at least 3-4 times every week....just to bounce things off of him. I used to get his opinion on just about everything I was involved with at the time.  Truthfully, most times I already knew what he was going to tell me, but I loved to get his mind working on different projects.  Its funny, but he could tell me about the smallest details of a football play he ran 40 years ago, but he had trouble remembering something that happened the day before.   Still, I loved to pick his brain about the history of our family, and I loved telling him about how I had reconnected with family (in Germany) over the past few years. Most of you know that my Dad was a football coach himself, so naturally I  loved to ask him about football offensive plays, and defensive schemes he used to run years ago.  I enjoyed putting a dry erase board in his hands (he called it a grease pencil) and have his draw up everything he had stored in his mind.  To me, my Dad was a walking and talking encyclopedia of knowledge, and I soaked-up as much of it as I could over the past few years.  I regret that I did not always appreciate the knowledge my Dad was trying to pass on to me.  Like a lot of younger people, I did not take the old man too seriously at times, and I was guilty of taking my Dad somewhat for granted in my younger (and selfish) days.  But, the older I got, the more I appreciated his wisdom.  I am proud that I opened up my heart to soak in much of what dad had stored in his mind.  Without this blessing, a lot of this information would have died with him.

Obviously, I had a lot of love and admiration for my Dad.  Unfortunately, after he moved back home to Kentucky, I could not always spend a lot of time with him....especially during football season.  Dad knew that football was my passion, and he wanted to hear the stories about our adventures on and off the field.  Fortunately, I had another mentor and father figure who I could lean on.  Over the past 20 years, I have spent countless hours coaching with this man, and spent even more hours just listening to and soaking in his wisdom.  Coach Bill Wilson needs to know how I feel about him, so I decided to write about our time together in this blog.  DANK, this is for you.

                                                                    Coach Bill Wilson  

I think every elementary aged student had to write a report on "Who I Admire the Most" at one time in his/her lifetime.  At my age, I should feel silly writing about who I admire at this point in my life, but this person needs to know how I feel about him.  This guy taught me more about being a father, a family man, and a football coach (over the past 20 years) than anybody else in my life.  Other than my own father and grandfather, Coach Bill Wilson has influenced me more than anyone else in my lifetime.  If you don't mind, I will be calling him "Dank" for the rest of this writing project.  Dank is considered a sports legend here in Florida.  I do not have enough time to write about all his accomplishments in this writing, but I am not writing about about his accomplishments (which speak for themselves.)  I am writing about Dank the man.

Even though he probably does not remember this, but I first met Dank about  28 years ago (when I was a young buck) and coaching down in Vero Beach. I had just been thrown out of the Vero Beach Recreation League for fist fighting with a referee after a football game.  I made a real ass of myself that night, and luckily Coach Billy Livings (Head Coach Vero Beach High School) met with me in his office about a week later.   Livings introduced me to Coach Wilson that day.  I am sure I did not make much of an impression.....I was a young and stupid coach who let his emotions get away from him....a decision I still regret to this very day. Coach Livings got me started with the Junior High program the following year.

In 1996, Randy Bethel took over as head coach at Sebastian River High School (SRHS)  and Dank came along with him as his assistant head coach.  I was offered a job on the staff at this same time, so this is when I truly got to know Coach Wilson.  Its funny, Dank and my Dad were just about the same age, and I think this is why I immediately gravitated toward him.  Everything Dank said reminded me of my Dad...and we used to compare notes on coaching styles.  The similarities were amazing.  To me, I was coaching with my old man every single day on the field.  I relished every minute of it.

I spent some time studying a particular style of offense called "The Wing T"  This old offense was very much like what we ran back in the day, so I had a really good grip on it when I started with Bethel at SRHS,  I had been to several coaching camps and clinics studying this misdirection offense and the intricacies involved in running it.  However, the KING of the WANG-T was already on our staff.  Its like I had my very own instructor or teacher every day at practice.  I can't tell you how much time we spent together just drawing up plays against difference defenses.  I would just sit back and watch  and listen to Dank talk..  I was a human sponge.  I would love to quiz him on different situations...and play calling strategies.  As long as I would listen, Dank would talk. Dank always asked me how my Dad used to run his teams, and he would listen to what was stored in my memory bank.

                                                   Dank during his Retirement Ceremony 

Dank Getting Award  

It did not matter what it was, I was going to do exactly as Dank suggested...without question, because we had already discussed it.   Some of my best lessons came from Dank (and Tony Brown) while were were folding team laundry and putting away equipment. I learned so much about the black community, and I opened my head to another way of viewing different situations.  Even during my younger days, I always took care of my kids....black or white.  It did not matter to me.  I loved my kids.  I think Dank realized that my love was genuine, and he sort of took me under his wing and taught me the life lessons I desperately wanted and needed from him.  These lessons on love molded me into the coach I am today.  I always called his lessons to me Dankism's

I am not sure how to write this next piece, so please try to follow along with me..

Coaches are sometimes accused of having favorites or playing favorites....this is just a way of life for a coach. Dank taught me a lesson about coaching every player the same way.

Sometimes....in some communities, everything is just perfect.  Both parents are in the house, and both parents have an income.  Kids are always fed breakfast before they go to school.  Kids always have lunch money, and there food in the house when they return home from practice.  The electricity is always on in the home, and the air conditioner is always making life bearable in the 95 degree heat of a Florida day.  Some players always have new athletic shoes and the finest in equipment available. For the most part, life is good....

On the other hand.....

Sometimes, a kids life is not so easy.  Sometimes there is only one parent in the house...sometimes there is no parent in the house at all.  Some kids go to school on an empty stomach...some kids do not eat lunch at all.  Some kids return to a dark and empty house after a full day of practice....eating is sometimes an afterthought.   Sometimes there is no electricity on in the house at all.  Sometimes the house is so hot that kids sleep outside or in a car...anywhere there is a breeze.  Some kids have athletic shoes that are taped together, or perhaps missing several of the screw-in cleats in the bottom.  For the most part, life at home just sucked.....

So, if a player missed a practice, or perhaps his attention span was lacking that day, Dank taught me to ask what was happening at the house.  Maybe there was a good reason for his actions...but you can't assume anything unless you ask a simple question:  "Is there anything I can help you with?" That simple question goes a long way.

Dankism   

 "Zaleuke, every kid is different.  Unless you know what is happening at the house, how can you coach all the kids the same? "

Often young coaches will complain about having to repeat the same instructions over and over. It is aggravating, but Dank  taught me an early lesson. I was taught that every player learns differently, and a good coach will learn what works for each kid.

Dankism  

1.  Some kids learn on the (Chaulk) board. You have to draw it up for him. 
2.  Some kids learn by seeing it.  They have to see someone do it before they understand it.
3.  Some kids learn by doing it.

"Chalk it, talk it, and walk it"

The lessons that Dank taught me were not always about football.  Sometimes the lessons were about being a man and doing the right thing.  Over the years I raised both my kids around the SRHS football field, so the coaches became uncles to them. I remember when my daughter Kristin was going to get married.  She was going to marry our former Quarterback from a few years before.  I was not happy about it at all.  Kristin was fresh out of Vanderbilt with a Master's degree. At the time she had thoughts of attending Law School. I thought she had her whole life in front of her.  Why get married now?  I thought she should get on with her career.  I made a decision not to attend the wedding in protest.  Dank quickly intervened and gave me the look of disappointment.

"Hey Man, thats not what you do.  Its not your decision.  You need to go the the wedding."  Then he punched me in the chest.  I went to the wedding.

Dank also taught me a hard lesson about my own son.  Many of you know I was a single dad, and I raised my son pretty much by myself.  I was extremely hard on him on and off the field.  Mike did not have a very long leash if you know what I mean.  All of his coaches walked the hallways everyday, so Mike never really got away from football 24 hours a day.  I was extremely hard on him during practices and at games. Dank sensed this, and pulled me into the equipment room and busted my ass:

" Boy, you need to leave Mike alone...let him be.  Let us Coach him!  You UNDERSTAND me?  Do you UNDERSTAND me?"  he repeated.  I was scared and simply answered "Yes Sir"

Over the years I have mellowed on the field quite a bit...but I  still loved to listen to the lessons Dank was teaching.  By this time, Dank would come onto the field riding in his golf cart, and I would often assist him in our individual drills for the players.  It was always a thrill for me when Dank started teaching and coaching.  I would tell our young players to be quiet and listen to a walking and talking legend teach the game, because someday, they would tell their own grandchildren they once played for Coach Wilson.

I could go on and on writing about Dank the man, and about Dank the coach.   But, I have to end this somewhere.  Coach Wilson.  I appreciate everything you have done for me, and I appreciate the "Lessons in Life" you provided me over the years.  I love you Coach, and I truly consider you my other father.  Thanks Again.

GZ