THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, October 13, 1995 TAG: 9510110189
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 23 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Sports
SOURCE: Julie Goodrich
LENGTH: Medium: 86 lines
WANTED: Someone with the knowledge of a textbook, the integrity of a judge, and the patience of a saint. Must be able to put in long hours working with 40-50 teenagers at once and not mind being held accountable for their actions. Those with a fear of failure need not apply.
Would you want this job? No? Then you wouldn't want to be a high school football coach.
The few, the proud . . . the terminally overworked and underappreciated.
Why would anyone with a modicum of sanity want to be a high school football coach? What are the payoffs?
Sure, if you've got a good team and you're winning, life can be great. You're greeted with way-to-goes and atta-boys wherever you go. A source of community pride.
You're seen as an authority on everything football related, from the quarterback option to onside kicks to turf toe.
Local legend Ralph Gahagan certainly earned respect by winning. He coached Wilson to three of four Eastern Region championships in the late '60s and early '70s before going on to coach at Kempsville, where he guided future NFL back D.J. Dozier.
But when you're a high school football coach, you can be winning and your life is still a pressure cooker. Take Deep Creek's Jerry Carter. His team is undefeated and nationally ranked. Do you think there are many moments when his tactician's brain isn't thinking about plays, formations, or whether to punt or go for it? Probably not.
Maybe the attraction is working with kids, guiding and influencing the lives of our nation's future linebackers.
Maybe it's giving something back to the community that nurtured them. Or maybe they do it because they love the game.
It's hard to imagine the job being fun. Rewarding in some sense, yes. But a laugh a minute walk in the park? Doubtful.
How can it be, when in the end, a coach is at the mercy of his players? They're the ones out on the field. He has to stand on the sidelines and watch, virtually helpless to alter the outcome.
It's enough to keep a coach up at night.
Put yourself in Bob Parker's shoes last Friday night, when it seemed like his undefeated Indian River team wanted to do anything but defeat Norcom. The Braves made foolish penalities. They turned the ball over. They made errors in judgment.
Or try to imagine what it's like to be Kellam's Chris Worst, who despite the best efforts of his players, his coaching staff, and himself, will be remembered for a 25-game losing streak.
If you're a coach, what can you do?
You can react like University of Florida coach Steve Spurrier and throw your visor to the turf in disgust every time your team makes a bad play. Or you can make like former UNLV basketball coach Jerry Tarkanian and chew on a towel until you ruin your dental work.
You can pace the sidelines, grimace, or fiddle with your headset, if you use one.
You can even yell at your players, if you're that kind of guy, and hope that makes them play better.
But that's it. And a lot of the time, it doesn't help.
The season can be one long lesson in frustration.
Maybe all you can do is take the approach of Tallwood's Ken Barto, who will tell his team in the post-game huddle that they didn't play well, and the win wasn't pretty, but that he is proud. Of their effort. Of the fact that they always tried their best.
And maybe, just maybe, the value of competitive team sports will sink in. And the young men who play will be a little better for it.
There are rational, well-adjusted men who willingly stay in this line of work, some for many years. Amazingly, they show no outwardly noticeable signs of the stress.
They really do look like normal human beings.
Like Billy O'Brien, who put the ``great'' in Great Bridge football. For 22 years O'Brien coached the Wildcats. Many of his players went on to greatness; some, like Western Branch's Lew Johnston, became coaches themselves.
But even O'Brien eventually stepped down. After more than two decades as a high school football coach he graduated to the only job that could possibly follow.
Politician. ILLUSTRATION: File photo
Like Ralph Gahagan, sometimes all a coach can do is pace.
by CNB