A Former Publication Of Alderson High School “Alderson’s Longest Running News Media”

“Lambing Time” Mike McClung

This short piece is about Coach. Readers of “The Aldersonian” have no need of father identification. There was only one “Coach”. And I shall not attempt to describe him. Such a task would fall well past my command of the language. In any case, readers here don’t require any description. For we have shared memories about Coach that remind us who he was and what he meant to so many. We were privileged to be the youth that he motivated. This story is about a side of Coach not often revealed. It requires a little background. My father, Frank McClung, and Coach were good friends. Daddy taught shop and VoAg at AHS in the early fifties. They worked together. Additionally, as Coach and FFA Advisor they knew about building bonds that surpass the classroom. And they were both farmers as well as teachers. Coach was a frequent visitor to our house. By the time I was a teenager, Daddy worked for WVU extension. His schedule took him away in the afternoons, to return home late at night. That meant that after school and practice, the evening farm chores were mine. Late one snowy March night, I was in the barn, in a lambing pen, pulling a lamb. I could make this more of a story by saying that it was a Dorset ewe trying to birth a second twin breech... But I don’t remember such details. What I shall always remember is becoming aware of a man standing just outside the barn gate - just outside the light. Startling for a young boy alone in the middle of the night! Then, in that familiar, low, monotone voice, Coach asked, “You OK Mike?” “Ah, yes sir.” “Need any help?” “No sir.” Turning - leaving, Coach said, “Well then, I’ll see you tomor...” And he was gone. I didn’t even say, “Thank you Coach.” You see, when Coach saw the barn lights from the road, he knew why they were on. And he knew who was there. And he knew I had no help. So he parked that little truck, went through the gate, and walked down that steep hill in the snow for me. Folks, Coach cared about us. Not just the players and the cheerleaders and the 9 Girls - all of us. I know there are other “Coach” stories similar to this one. I know of at least one, but it’s not my story to tell. If you have memories like mine, share. “Thank you, Coach.”