Parents, coaches, teachers and others help make kids winners
SEPTEMBER 9, 2024
BY MIKE TUPA
BARTLESVILLE AREA SPORTS REPORT
When it comes to influencing an adolescent’s character and attitudes, nothing can surpass the impact of a devoted mom and dad. They are the Dynamic Duo of child-rearing, the titans of tutoring, the masters of emotional support, the virtuosos of speaking the right words at the right time, the core of immeasurable love.
The same can be said by those basically raised by a single parent — as in my case — or those blessed with affectionate guardians, adoptive parents or other similar situations that might apply.
I’ve witnessed throughout the years during many different Hall of Fame induction ceremonies how even the toughest of men can’t hold back the tears when they reach the point of thanking a parent or both of them.
There’s nothing quite so touching as seeing a rugged 300-pound former NFL guard cry and hearing his throat tighten as he recalls his mom and talks about how her support shaped his life and success.
God bless good mentors in the home! They are the unsung heroes of civilization — the difference between humankind being a savage, brutal, nomadic culture of aimless barbarians where only the strongest dominate, or being a civilized, disciplined, compassionate, tolerant and caring collection of fellow passengers on this globe.
Also throw in great extended family members, such as grandparents, siblings, uncles and aunts and cousins into the equation of moral equity.
There’s another group that needs to be recognized as champions of civilization and law and order. They include the teachers, the coaches, the preachers, constructive friends, the benevolent neighbors, kind strangers and others.
I hope you will reflect on some of those who have made — or are making — differences for the better in your life.
With that in mind, I’d like to recall some of this wonderful tier of individuals that helped me make more of my life than I might have otherwise.
In laying a little groundwork, my dad deserted us just prior to my 11th birthday — a tough time for a boy entering teenager-hood with all the questions and challenges that are part of it. Fortunately, some men helped feel the void of masculine guidance during those crucial years.
COACH KLEKAS: I spent most of the summer between my sophomore and junior year trying out for my high school football team. I nearly made it before I stepped away for reasons I still don’t quite understand. Coach Klekas asked me to stay involved in the program as a team manager (waterbody). For several weeks I faithfully attended every after school practice and made it to every game, as I remember. But around mid-season or shortly after I got interested in other things and started to slack off on my commitment and missed some practices. Coach Klekas could have cut me loose — no one could have blamed him — from the program. But after practice one evening, he asked me to meet him outside the locker room. During our brief conversation — while darkness fell around us — he rightfully chided me for my unreliability. He then showed me great mercy by opening the door for me to stay on the team and enjoy the full fellowship that went with it. I heeded his guidance and recommitted myself. That team went on to win the 4A state championship in the greatest finals’ upset of Utah prep football history. Thanks to coach Klekas I experienced the whole ride and created a lifetime of memories.
MR. CRAWFORD: With my dad gone we had no steady source of income for many months. Somehow my mom pieced together enough money and the Lord blessed us with other means, including the kindness of other people, to get us through. After several months, mom became an after-hours cleaning lady in a 12-story business office building and I obtained a paper route to provide us just enough to get by. But we still lacked the means to buy new clothes (we didn’t even have a telephone or a car). I often wore the cheap tennis/canvas shoes we bought off a supermarket aisle until there were huge gashes along the side of the feet. In eighth grade I took a typing class taught by Mr. Crawford. One day, as the class worked on a typing exercise, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. It was Mr. Crawford and he motioned me to walk to the back wall of the classroom. He started out asking me if all was well at home. I got the impression he thought I was being mistreated or something. With tears welling up in my eyes, I assured all was well at home and that we were experiencing tough economic times. He seemed satisfied but I continued to cry — not because of our situation but because this good man cared enough to ask. I had thought too often then that nobody noticed me, nobody cared. His simple act of communicating with me — even though he really couldn’t help — touched me very, very deeply. As an addendum, several years later I held a summer job at a gas station and Mr. Crawford drove up to get gas. We visited for a while and I think I told him thanks. I was so proud he could see that I turned out to be a healthy, competent young man who had served a church mission in Italy and was now getting a college education.
MR. COTTLE: I entered sixth grade just a few months after my dad had departed. Fortunately I was assigned to Mr. Cottle’s class. There’s so much I could say about his impact on me as a teacher in imparting academic and practical lessons that constituted what school education should be about. But it went deeper than that. As I alluded to earlier, I was always the shabbiest-dressed kid in my class. Plus, I might have been the only kid from a single-parent home. This led to comments by classmates, usually behind my back. One day, however, some kids said something that Mr. Cottle overheard. He immediately called the class to attention and delivered a strong rebuke. He partly got across the point that sometimes people have to deal with tough situations that aren’t their fault. He also told the class that often youngsters who came up in adversarial circumstances grew up to do great things. His words bolstered my sagging self-image and gave me a lifeline of hope to cling to for the future. My mom did that too — and well — but it meant a lot coming from someone outside the home. I thank Mr. Cottle doubly because he did something similar for my sister who came into his class the next year.
MR. EVERTSEN: I knew him for many months, perhaps more than a year, as just another newspaper customer. One day after my 13th birthday, my church friend named Lynn invited me to start coming out to our ward Boy Scout troop meetings with Mr. Evertsen as our Scoutmaster. He did so much for me during those many months, giving me an example of what it meant to be a man and involving me fully into the activities. Mr. Evertsen exercised a kind of Pied Piper influence on our small (five boys) but assiduously devoted troop. During a week-long summer camp in Idaho (I think it was a week, maybe longer), we earned two feathers every day for our camp cleanliness and our own performance. No other participating troop earned a total of more than three. Prior to the summer camp, there was no way my mom or I could afford the cost. Gary rented a snow cone making machine and all of us manned it in front of the local grocery store one Saturday in order to earn money for me to go. Gary also donated a small room in his farm for our troop headquarters — something a lot of people wouldn’t do because of the prospect of a bunch of boys coming uninvited on the property at all times of the day, weekend or evening to go into the headquarters. He just treated all as adults, related to each of us personally despite our vastly different personalities and provided a stabilizing force in my life.
BISHOP RICHARDS: Despite our financial struggles — they weren’t even salad days, we could barely afford the dressing — mom remained fiercely independent in refusing welfare of any kind. She even said “no” to an offer by our church to help. She believed people should do everything they could and sacrifice greatly to provide for themselves. She had an ulterior motive — she didn’t want my sister and I to grow up believing the government or the church owed us a living. But truth was we were pretty much straddling the precipice of potential serious hunger. One evening, my sister and I stood outside our house playing or something when our church bishop walked on the sidewalk in our direction. When he reached us he stopped and tried to convince us of the need for our family to receive help from the church. He said it was no shame to ask for help now and then, as well as some other stuff. He softened our hearts greatly. When mom got home that night from work, she found two crying children passing on some of what the bishop told us. Our sincerity affected her and we began after that to receive some food and old clothes from the church.
MRS. DAVID: I don’t have a lot of autographs in my ninth grade yearbook. Mrs. David’s is one of them. After the football coach turned down my request to try out for the football team — in fairness to him, the team already had been practicing for a while — I felt crushed. I decided to enroll in an advanced speech class taught by Mrs. David. She displayed a kind heart and welcome attention to me. She also was the drama director. We would put on the play “The Hobbit,” that school year and she cast me in the prime part of “Gandalf the Wizard.”
There are many other people I recall in the file of happy recollections of my youth, but the ones mentioned above were some of the greatest shining lights outside the four walls of our home.
I hope you recall — and if possible can express long overdue appreciation — for those who made a lasting impact on your lives during those tumultuous times of childhood and teenager-hood.