We'll miss you, Coach.

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Yesterday America lost a very great man. Darrell K. Royal.

He was a no-nonsense, hard-nosed football coach, who believed in three basic fundamentals: tackling, blocking and never, never – unless the world is about to come to an end – throw a forward pass.

Coach had a favorite saying that when you pass, three things can happen and two of them aren’t good.

I remember as a young kid watching Longhorn Football on a scratchy black and white TV set. A national title was on the line. President Nixon was in attendance. ABC was broadcasting nationwide from the Ozarks. It was a cold, cold cloudy day. The Horns were losing to the Razorbacks. And then it happened.  A long forward pass from James Street to Randy Paschal – lifting the boys from Austin out of the slump and on to victory over Arkansas. (It actually took two running plays after the pass to secure the win, but who’s that picky? Texas threw the ball!) A forward pass from the arm of a UT quarterback for a National Championship! Who had heard of such things!

The simple thought of that burnt orange on the jerseys and that longhorn insignia on the side of the helmet made me want to go and see them in person. So my dad took me to Austin to a game.  The rematch of Texas-Arkansas the very next year. I was hooked.  (UT won again.)

An addict for life.

And orange and white junkie. Still am.

My college roommate for one summer was a fellow who played tight end on the UT team. A starter. My girlfriend had introduced us and we had become fast friends…well, he was fast, I was the friend…He got injured in a game against Texas Tech, and was spending the weekend in Breckenridge Hospital, which in those days was a bit like being in the Walls Unit in Huntsville. It was depressingly lonely and old. He was in great pain and the nurse had just come in an administered a shot of ‘feel good juice’, when in walked Coach Royal and Edith, his wife. I knew them because they lived across the street from the King family, whose middle son was one of my best friends.

Fine folks, as we say in Texas. 

Miss Edith immediately recognized me and came to shake my hand. Coach went and sat next to his hurt star.  Other coaches, players and trainers had been in. They didn’t say much, just did that nodding and grunting that grown men do to say ‘I’ve been here to see you’; but Coach sat there and carried on a conversation and soon had all of us in the room laughing and having a great time.  When he got up to leave, Coach placed his hand on Rick’s leg and said, “Get well, Son. The State of Texas is counting on you.”

Talk about knowing how to get a kid up and back to the field ready to play. The entire state of Texas was counting on him.  My God that was motivating.  Hell, I was ready to put on a helmet and go play.

As the Royals left, Coach turned to me – a nobody– and said, “You gonna be at the King’s this Sunday for dinner?”  I nodded, not believing he knew who I was.  (I always mooched a free lunch from Mrs. King when I could. Hey, it was college and I was broke.) He smiled and said, “Can’t say as I blame you.  If she has her fried chicken, come and get me.”

Royal won three national championships at Austin. And he won me as a lifetime fan and friend.  That Sunday Mrs. King had ham.  I didn’t call him, but we did wave to him during a game of King family touch football in their front yard.  Royal was looking on very disapprovingly from his front porch. He did not like what he was seeing.

We were passing way too much.

Horns Up.  We’ll miss you Coach.