Coach Harrison

Several minutes before my high school football team was set to take the field at Vanderbilt Stadium in late November 2004, to win the school's first state championship in over 19 years, I heard one of the most memorable quotations of my entire life.  No, it wasn't my head coach giving some inspiration, firey, "Knute Rockneyesque" pump up speech, rather it was the words of our offensive line coach that will forever be ingrained in my mind.

Teammate: Coach, uh...your zipper's down...
Coach: [Boys] if you can't get it up, then you can't get it out, so no worries!

These were the immortal words of "The Coach", Tommy Harrison.  His voice was easily the most recognizable coming from the practice fields, gyms of MUS, or his call-in show on the local sports talk radio station, and his words were always the most memorable.

Raised in the small town of Bruce, Mississippi, Coach had what I refer to as "the refined" southern accent. It is distinctively southern, but it doesn't sound retarded.  He would always have a phrase or comment that would make you chuckle and think "Where did he come up with that?!?"  But even more so, his comments would make surprisingly good sense.  Such as "That makes as much sense as a screen door on a submarine."  Or, sometimes since he was notoriously known as the single greatest recruiter and seeing he was the wrestling coach at upper-middle class, all boys, prep school, where no one wanted to wrestle and risk damaging his perfect hair that was always just within the lines of legality and could be flipped to perfection even though there are no girls around at all, he would have to ask the all important biographical questions.  He would always inquire about a potential "prospect" to one of the said "prospect's" friends.
     "Wright, tell me about [insert name]..."
     "Well coach he's a pretty good..."
And before you can even finish your rare compliment about a friend (remember this was a boy's school where sarcasm and insults were typically the only form of "peer to peer" communication), coach would interrupt you to get to the point.
     "How much can he bench?!?"

Yes, that was coach.  He might not have known anything about the sport he was supposed to be an expert on, but he was an expert on coaching.  He, better than anyone I have run across in my sports career, understood what coaching is all about, getting better players than everyone else.  And that's what he could do.  I firmly believe this man could have sold me the pair of socks I would be wearing. And trust me you would be no different.  Because though he was no salesman, he would have been a helluva one.  When you talk to the man, he truly makes you feel like whatever he says is completely right, and you should listen to it no matter what.  Even when made ridiculously, untrue, ludicrous statements you still would nod your head in agreement.  One such example occurred when he told me that one of my former teammates, who shall be nameless, would be drafted ahead of Michael Oher.  Though my former teammate could be drafted this spring, it is highly doubtful that he will be one of those guys who bear hugs Roger Goodell on that glorified money, making Thursday night draft special on the NFL Network.  Nonetheless, when he said it to me, I walked away thinking he was right.  Not because he was our very own Merlin, but because he was coach.  I believed everything that man said to a fault.  The man never steered me wrong.  He gave me an opportunity to play when I really had no business being on a football field.  And for that I will forever be grateful, and I will never forget the words he told me as he was telling me I would have a spot.  "Wright, just put the ball on the damn tee."

And with the exception of twice, I did that for two years and have two state championship rings and a touchdown on my resume.  So while I will usually use this forum to rant about humorous topics that grind my gears or have gotten my recent attention, I wanted to take the time to pay my respects to a man that deserves it.  Here's to you Coach Harrison.  I have never seen a man who was so loved by every player he coached and for good reason.  He was a great coach and teacher, but most importantly he was an even better man.  You will forever be missed in the Dining Hall, Stokes Stadium at the Hull-Dobbs Athletic Facility at Bobby Alston Field (or whatever we're calling it now), the wrestling room, the town of Millington, and anywhere else you came in contact with anyone.

My name is Jeffrey, and these are my thoughts...