Mr. Tate

Linda handed me an article from our newspaper this morning.  I think she expected me to read it so I did.  It was about the writer’s former friends who had contributed so much in his life.  I was impressed so much that I all of a sudden started thinking about the special ones in my life.  So for the next few blogs I would like to introduce you to some very special people in my life.  They will not be in any order so don’t look for your name just yet.

            The first one who came to mind was Mr. Tate.  He was a teacher at the high school I attended.  He also coached the basketball team.  Since I was not a particularly good student and was far too short to play basketball why would I ever remember him?  Well I am going to tell you.  Our school had a football team for runts who were not big enough or smart enough to play on the varsity team called the Peapickers.  Mr. Tate coached that team.  And I played on it.  Well maybe not played on it but I did have a uniform.  I was in the ninth grade and was still one of the smaller players.  But Mr. Tate took me under his wing.  He taught me how to pass, how to run, (he said one could run faster if someone were after him) and most of all how to think on the field.  He even made me a quarterback and he let me play in every game.  It was a wonderful year for me and I will ever be grateful to Mr. Tate for that.  He called me the “brains” of the team, a nickname that still some call me to this day.

            But good times pass.  I learned that if I wanted to play football anymore I would have to make the varsity team in my junior year.  So armed with all of my peapicker success I went out for the varsity.  Those guys were really big.  And they tackled really hard, too.  I was what one might call a fourth team runt quarterback.  But because Mr. Tate told me to, I stayed trying well into my senior year.  So in the last two years in high school I was only allowed to play in one game.  We were already ahead thirty points when the coach told me to go in.  Mr. Tate served as assistant coach that year and I will always believe that it was he who conned the head coach into letting me play that time. I got to play the entire last half. 

            This story is not about me so why have I said so much.  Well it is because of Mr. Tate.  When the head coach told me to go into the game Mr. Tate come up to me and said something that still stays with me today.  He put my helmet on my head and while be beat on one side of it (he always did that when he talked to me) he said in his kindest way, “Brains, get in there and go like a red ass spider!”

            I went into the game laughing.  I knew that nobody was expecting anything great out of me so I had nothing to lose. But Mr. Tate was expecting great things from me.  And somehow I believed him then. And it occurred to me:  All I had to do was go like a red ass spider.  I hardly remember all that happened while I played but I never forgot the words of a real friend and coach who believed in me and let me know it. Many times in my life when I was faced with hard decisions or questionable work to do I shut my eyes and remember those words of encouragement. 

            I would really like to be a good writer.  It may be unlikely but I can try by going at it like a red ass spider. Thank you, Mr. Tate!