Coach Bob Wood
A couple of years ago I received a phone call from my college teammate, Tom. I’ve lost touch with Tom and most of my college friends and teammates – a coaching career does that to you. You give up nights, weekends – essentially the times when the fun stuff with old friends happens. Tom recently received a call from Bob Wood, our college soccer coach, and learned Coach was dying. Tom was organizing a reunion – a farewell of sorts to Coach Wood.
The entire idea of a reunion like this is 100% my kind of thing. I’m nostalgic and sentimental. I enjoy the reconnection, recollection and even the reconciliation. I couldn’t wait for the event.
. . .
At 18 years old, despite possessing average talent, I was determined to play NCAA Division 1 college soccer and Bob Wood was the only coach who offered me a scholarship. If I recollect correctly, my scholarship amounted to used books, breakfast on Tuesdays and a pair of freshly laundered socks. Oh, and one bar of soap from our equipment manager who resembled a smallish Andre the Giant. It was the kind of scholarship amount that says, “What was your name again?”
My response to the offer, “Fresh socks? I’m in!” So, in 1988, I began my freshman year at Drake University. I was nervous and Coach Wood, well, did little to quell my anxiety. Prior to the first day of training Coach Wood gathered the team in a room and asked each player to introduce himself. He began with the upperclassmen.
“I’m Scott. I’m from Libertyville, IL. I play forward.”
“Tell them how fast you are Scotty.” Scott stayed silent. “Scott doesn’t just have four gears,” Coach offered, “He has five.”
“I’m Ryan from Lenexa, KS.”
“Tell them about your high school accolades Ryan,” Coach commanded.
“I was all state,” Ryan blurted out uncomfortably.
“Ryan also has an excellent pull back move,” Coach added.
This went on for a while as player after player awkwardly spoke about themselves and Coach Wood offered or demanded more information. Then a sophomore named Craig said, “I was on the University All-World Team for largest nostrils and most bow-legged,” and everyone included Coach Wood laughed. Moments like those were standard procedure at Drake soccer. Coach, a disciplined man, with old school midwestern sensibilities, enjoyed those odd formalities, much to the chagrin of his 18 to 21-year-old players who, frankly, didn’t quite get it.
. . .
We didn’t know much about Coach Wood’s life prior to coaching us. We knew his childhood home had an outhouse instead of a bathroom. We knew he never played serious soccer. We knew he did some coaching before Drake, but it wasn’t extensive. We knew he used weird colloquialisms such as, “Like my Grandpappy says, ‘asses and elbows’.” (That, apparently, meant to play aggressive, be tough.) Toughness was important to coach and he backed it up. With rickety knees and a seemingly endless reservoir of grit Coach Wood was always fit. When he had us doing seven count push ups and yelling, “I will not be beaten!” we knew he could do it too.
. . .
We had our problems with Coach. He wasn’t a great soccer mind and we often thought some of his ideas and practices were odd or unsophisticated. We weren’t wrong, but it clouded our assessment of Coach Wood. Sometimes we saw him – or at least I saw him – only for his soccer knowledge and not for his character. And boy did I forget, he recruited me. He saw something in me, and I chose him, Drake Soccer and Drake University.
And by the way, we weren’t bad, and sometimes we were pretty damn good. My junior year we lost in the Conference Championship to UW Milwaukee after we upset Creighton and SIU Edwardsville. I’m a college coach now and I know this, Coach Wood worked his butt off, recruited well, was a good judge of talent and his lineups made sense, even when I sat the bench. Excuse me, especially when I sat on the bench.
. . .
After my sophomore season I met with Coach Wood for my post fall season evaluation.
“So Robbie, what did you think of your season?” Coach asked.
Here’s what I should’ve said. “I arrived for pre-season unfit and never quite gained the form needed to help the team. I was neither a shutdown back who started the attack or impactful as a wide player in attack or defense. I need to do better Coach.” Instead I began assessing each game individually, the play of the team and my play, and providing detailed descriptions of where we might have gone wrong. My god was I full of myself! A few minutes into my diatribe Coach Wood interrupted me, “We’re not here for a game by game rundown Robbie. Here’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You showed up unfit, didn’t play very well and your attitude wasn’t good. I’m not increasing your scholarship and here’s a release form signed by me in case you want to transfer to another University.”
It’s no coincidence I showed up fit my Junior Year and had my best season.
. . .
Back to the reunion: At a vacation rental outside of Des Moines, Iowa, 12 Drake soccer alumni visited with Coach, and each other. Everyone, for better or worse, regressed to their 18-21-year-old self, but I don’t think that’s uncommon. We played a game of soccer golf because, in our late forties, it’s easier on your body than soccer. We grilled meats, drank beers, played yard games and rehashed story after story of our successes, failures and, of course, our indiscretions.
On day two, the guest of honor, Coach Bob Wood, arrived. He was frail. He had a heart condition and had already survived a few heart attacks – I told you he was tough. As he walked into the house his smile, the man had a magical smile, and his yes shined. And true to form, Coach Wood was his beautiful, awkwardly formal self. After a few minutes he gathered us in a room, like it was 1988, and asked each one of us, one at a time, to tell everyone about their lives. I’d like to say I said something eloquent, funny, touching and grateful – I didn’t. I was 20-year-old Rob Harrington muttering something stuck between silly and stupid with only a dash of sincerity. Then Nick, one of our goalkeepers, blew the room away with a genuine and heartfelt toast and tribute to Coach Wood. I’ll paraphrase. “You believed in us. You brought us together. You taught us honesty, integrity and character. Today we are who we are, and we are here today as lifelong friends because of you. Thank you Coach.”
. . .
After our reunion, I exchanged some emails with Coach and was way more eloquent than I was that weekend in Des Moines. I thanked him for being such a good mentor and man and apologized for when I was a self-righteous little runt. His responses are for me alone. Coach Wood, true to form, never stopped attacking life. Shortly after our reunion he toured Europe and skydived and wrote this to me, “The game's not over until the buzzer goes off. My plan is to live as much as I can before the buzzer goes off for me.”
You sure did Coach. Rest in peace.
Dedicated to Robert Wood (1944-2020)
