Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
It was one of the most interesting timeouts I’ve ever been involved in. P.J. Wells was a senior, his younger brother Shannon a sophomore, and their father, the legendary Chuck Wells, was the head coach.
Chuck called time and the boys trotted to the bench. Chuck was a coaching machine, always with the right strategy, always excellent scouting and game preparation, and his teams, even when not blessed with the greatest talent, were contenders.
This time, Shannon and P.J. beelined straight to their dad. “Get him off me,” Shannon said.
“I haven’t started yet,” P.J. countered.
Chuck didn’t grab either boy, though I thought he was about to. The other three kids and the seven boys on the bench looked bewildered. They were. So was I. As this little family “discussion” ensued, I took the rest of the team, told them we were switching from a 2-1-2 zone to man defense, and the horn sounded.
As I recall, it was against Rocky Mountain, and we won that one.
Such is the nature of father and son when one is coaching the other.
A standing joke in Little League Baseball is that once a boy hits the “coach pitch” level, he never leaves it.
Coach pitch is a step up from T-ball, where coaches pitch to their team, so the kids have a chance to hit, and the games don’t go beyond four hours as struggling youngsters try to find the strike zone.
The punch line comes when the boys are older, and only the coach’s kid gets to pitch. He usually plays shortstop and is the lead-off batter as well. It’s a problem that has plagued Little League since the organization began.
The Lander School Board is discussing bringing in a policy on district coaches who have their own children on a team.
School boards and administrators don’t come up with ideas like this, they come from constituents, and in this case, most likely parents who see their little superstars wronged in some way.
In today’s world of the snowplow parent, anything aside from having their son or daughter named all-state on a state championship team is grounds for dismissing a coach.
How about a huge, collective, sigh…
If only this weren’t the case.
I’ve seen great coaches work with their sons and daughters at the varsity level. Yes, at the club level, there is obvious favoritism, but it’s rare once the kids are in a school-sanctioned sport, and especially at the varsity level.
Coaches have higher expectations for their sons and daughters than they do for the other athletes on the team. For one, they can still coach their own without worrying about some incensed mom in the superintendent’s office on Monday because you demanded too much of their budding superstar.
When my son Brian was playing football and competing in the decathlon at Dickinson State University, I became friends with his defensive coordinator, who was also the head track coach.
Pete Stanton was an outstanding coach, the kind of mentor you can only pray your son or daughter will have at the collegiate level, but at the end of the day, a no-nonsense, hard-nosed coach. That’s all you can ask for.
At one track meet, Pete and I, along with the father of one of Brian’s friends, were watching the meet and commenting on splits, trail legs, release points, and plant feet. All the things a track coach pays attention to and enjoys in a meet.
The other dad was a head track coach at a high school in Montana.
Pete turned and said to us, “You know, I love coaching coaches’ kids. They know how to work hard, they take criticism well and no matter what I do or say, they’ve had worse from their father.”
Pete was right.
I look at how many of my friends handled their sons and daughters at the varsity level and the expectation was always higher than for the remainder of the team.
Chuck Wells was a great example; Shannon and P.J. didn’t get away with anything. Chuck was on them like a hawk. Their only relief came from their mom, Yvonne, who was an angel on earth to everyone, especially her boys.
My friend Ernie Mecca was a taskmaster for his son Eric and daughter Cassie at Dubois. The kids worked hard for their dad.
Perhaps the best example of the father/son dynamic is also in Dubois, where my late friend David Trembly coached his talented son Wyatt in football, wrestling, and track. The duo was and remains an inspiration.
Looking north, one of my favorite coaching families in the entire world is centered in Northern Big Horn County.
Ralph Winland and I are friends. We hit it off the first time we met back in the fall of 1985, and we remain friends today, four decades later.
Ralph had three extraordinary sons, Tim, Rod, and Pat.
Ralph was the big man for the Lovell Bulldogs “back in the day” (the 1960s). Tim and Rod took after their mom, Robyn. Not quite the stature of the 6’5″ Ralph, but tenacious on the field and the court, and outstanding athletes and later coaches.
Pat, the baby, has his father’s height. The big man from Lovell was a dominating force in the paint.
I enjoy conversations with these four men, and with the next generation of Winlands, Kirby, Taylor, and Cooper immensely.
Tim, Rod, and Pat sometimes relate stories of times when Ralph wasn’t so “loving and kind.”
As a coach, Ralph was an intimidating presence. My guys noticed how Ralph commanded his team when we played the Bulldogs.
To a man, the Winland boys learned to be tough, to compete, and to excel due to Ralph’s influence. So did every other player that Ralph worked with in his illustrious career. It passed on to Kirby through Tim and to Taylor, and now Cooper through Pat.
They’re as good as coaches can be, period, and no, they don’t play favorites with their own.
I look to my friends Dick Quayle and Beau Sheets in Riverton. Dick coached both Seth and Chris, his two immensely talented sons, and spent an eternity with his equally talented daughter Katie, in the gym. Outstanding people one and all.
Beau coached his two exemplary sons, Clay and Ty. The boys have fast motors, and play well beyond their physical prowess, no doubt matching what dad did in Kansas and then at Chadron State.
Can anyone beat the example that Chico Her Many Horses did with his seven sons? Every one of the boys was the ultimate competitor and an exemplary gentleman at the same time. Watching Chico on a cross-country course or at the 200-meter mark in the 800, 1600, and 3200 as his sons and every other boy and girl on the Wyoming Indian team raced by was a privilege. The essence of coaching exemplified.
Parents can be problems. Ask any official, head coach, or school administrator, and they have a handful on their radar constantly.
Everything is fixed, unfair, and an injustice to their little superstar.
Hopefully, the deliberations in Lander that are about to take place aren’t driven by the hovering, snowplow parents that are driving, teachers, coaches, and officials away from the kids they’ve dedicated their lives to.
Coach pitch usually ends once the kids hit middle school, that’s why so many club level superstars never amount to much once they hit the impartial, “you’ll play if you’re the best” at the high school level.
We can do better.