From the desk of Wally Dawkins, Athletic Director:

The girl’s mother was not happy with me because her daughter was seeing only limited playing time. It was my first year to coach high school basketball, and this mom was thoroughly convinced that I knew very little about the game. Going into our last game of the year, which would be Senior Night, Tisha would get her first and only start of the season.

Since playing basketball collegiately at Abilene Christian University, coaching high school basketball was all I ever wanted to do. I watched every video I could get my hands on. I read the latest books by the best coaches of the 1970’s era. I even attended clinics to hear people like John Wooden, Dean Smith, and Jim Valvano speak about the game I loved.

Upon graduation, I was hired at Lueders-Avoca to be their new Head Boys and Head Girls Basketball Coach while teaching Language Arts (hard to believe I know, but I do have a minor in English). Now if you have never heard of Lueders or Avoca, shame on you!  The two small cotton farming towns sit about 30 miles north of Abilene and consolidated to be one school. Getting the job at Lueders-Avoca was just the break I needed (or so I thought), so I wisped away my new bride from Tyler to the dirt streets of a place that looked like the setting of “The Last Picture Show.”

Coaching the girls and boys in basketball didn’t really bother me as I figured the girls were, well, just like the boys. Really. I did think that. Incorrectly so.

I learned, however, how to deal with the almost daily “girl” drama. Kind of. I did not know that girls would actually fight each other over one of the local farm boys, or cry before, during, and after practice if they did not get invited to a fellow classmate’s birthday party.

I became aware (although unbelievably so to me) that basketball wasn’t the most important thing in their lives. And it was very apparent after the first day of practice as to why the Girls’ Basketball Team at Lueders-Avoca High School had not won a game in three years. It was not because of poor coaching!

Although the talent pool was extremely low, a few of the girls stood out as being the best players, which resulted in more playing time for that group. One of the girls who was not in that group of “playing regulars” was Tisha. Now, Tisha was a sweet girl, and she actually had a good shot. However, she could not remember any of the plays we ran. I mean, zero. I think in the class of 19 seniors, Tisha ranked as #20. Her ACT score was a negative number. When I would yell, “Sic’em,” she would come here. You get the picture. But she was as nice as she could be and was an awesome person. Liked by everyone on the team.

Tisha’s mom, however, was convinced that I didn’t like Tisha. She knew for a fact that I knew nothing about basketball, and while sitting in the bleachers of our high school gym in Avoca, or perching on a stool at the soda fountain in Smith’s General Store in Lueders, “Momma” was blasting me to anyone who would listen.

Going into the last game, I had met with this mom on three different occasions, and I basically told her that Tisha’s lack of playing time was based solely on her inability to learn the offense, the out of bounds plays, go to the right spots on defense, or recognize the calls that I would yell out from the bench.

“You better not be sayin’ my girl’s dumb,” the mom threatened. I assured her that was not what I was saying. Not Exactly.

So when Senior Night rolled around, I inserted Tisha into the starting line-up. It’s what coaches do on Senior Night. If you can, you start the seniors.

After warming up, and introducing the starting line-ups, the referees strolled to mid-court and threw up the ball to begin the game. My post girl was a 5’9 Freshman, and although it might have been one of the few things we would win, we usually won the tip. The ball was tipped directly to Tisha, who caught it cleanly, and began dribbling in the opposite direction of where the other 9 girls on the court were headed. After taking three, maybe four, dribbles, Tisha pulled up and lofted a beautiful 20-foot set shot that rainbowed toward the basket before swishing through the bottom of the net. It was an awesome shot!

With the made shot, the crowd roared, and Tisha’s mom jumped up–hollering out loud enough for everyone in the gym to hear;

“Way to go Tishaaaaaaaaaa…I told him you should be starting…what do you have to say about that Coach Dawkins?”

For a second or two, most everyone in the bleachers believed that maybe the mom had been right all along. Tisha should have been playing. That the reason she was not playing was because of the coach…Coach Dawkins.

After those first few seconds of glee wore off, everyone in the gym, including Tisha’s Mom, suddenly realized that the beautiful, rainbow arched, 20-foot set shot had gone in…the wrong basket. Tisha had mistakenly dribbled to the opponent’s goal and nailed what, if shot now, would be a three pointer. Although I felt someone vilified at first, I hated the feeling of embarrassment that Tisha was now experiencing. The screaming and applauding of a great shot, had turned into laughter and cat calls.

I have never felt worse as a coach for a player than I did for Tisha that day. After the reality of what had happened set in, she ran straight to the bench, and with her hands over her face, sat down and cried.

Although coaches want to win, and want to win worse than most anyone else, good coaches truly care about the feelings of their players. Good coaches are extremely concerned about the future of the young people they work with. And good coaches are willing to do anything within their power to make their athletes successful.

I know the 20 full-time Christian men and women who are Brook Hill Coaches are that way!

And that’s another reason to be “ALL ORANGE…All The Time!”