MR. W

In 7th grade I met a teacher that would shape my life for years to come (don’t worry it's not that kind of story).  Mr. W was the PE teacher and soccer coach at my small town’s Middle School.  He was young, tall, and walked with a confidence that caught the attention of every student that was eager to get out of a desk and have fun.  

That fall I made the middle school soccer team, an honor that came with a few perks.  If you were lucky enough to see your name posted on the bulletin board outside the gym that meant you not only got access to one of the larger lockers in the boys room, but you were allowed into school early to drop off your gear.  Oftentimes, Mr. W would be sitting in his office getting ready for the school day when my buddies and I would pop in to say good morning.  Mr. W’s office was mint.  Along with his desk he had a comfy chair, couch, coffee maker, and a small TV that was usually playing MTV music videos.  To 12  year old me,  Mr. W had the life every 7th grader dreamed of.  He got paid to play games all day and he had his own space to chill and watch TV on his breaks.  Mr. W acted like he had it made too.  He was always positive, smiling, and excited to see us when we walked in.

I remember thinking that if I could have the life he had that would be pretty cool.  

Our first day of soccer practice started out in the locker room.  20+ 7th and 8th grade boys gathered in the team room and started gearing up.  In between the razing and pantsing we noticed in big letters the word “COHESION” written across the chalkboard.  We joked about it as we continued Jimmy Tapping each other. 

Mr. W walked in and the room drew quiet.  He explained to us the meaning of cohesion. 

co·​he·​sion kō-ˈhē-zhən 

: the act or state of sticking together tightly

He went on to explain to us what this would look like for our soccer team, and how sticking together would make us an unstoppable force.  He wanted our opponents to doubt themselves before warmups started.  From the moment we left the locker room we were going to portray ourselves as a united force that could not be broken.  Every day we would form two perfectly straight equal lines and march up the hill to practice.  I am not sure who started it, but we would all sing in unison “Build me up Buttercup” as we walked: a tradition that carried over to gamedays.

This was the best year of soccer I ever had.  Our team was not only talented, but we were truly bonded together.  We not only won games, but we also destroyed teams.  The season ended in a rematch against our rivals Avon.  The games between us were always close, but in our heads these rich pricks needed a beatdown.  I can’t remember exactly, but I think it was tied 1-1 when I tackled a guy right outside of our box.  The kid got up and started talking shit in my face.  A crowd gathered around us and my buddy Zinger came charging in to defend me.  Before I knew what happened Zinger was shoved to the ground, and out of nowhere came Jim.  Jim laid out this Avon chump with a Goldberg style spear then kneeled on his shoulders and started throwing haymakers.  The Referee called the game early and we all walked off the field expecting to get a lashing from Mr. W for ruining our perfect season.  Mr. W gathered us together and instead of scolding us: he congratulated us.  He was proud that we stuck together and defended each other.  He told us that our record was no longer perfect, but what really mattered is that we showed a true understanding of Cohesion.  We marched back to the locker room in two perfectly straight equal lines singing louder than ever: together.

I went on to play soccer and basketball for Mr W, and by the end of 8th grade he had made such an impression on me that I wanted to grow up to be just like him.  I went to college with aspirations of becoming a PE teacher and coach.  I lost touch with Mr. W but I had heard that he was having health issues that caused him to leave teaching.

I graduated and started teaching at a local Middle School. One of my colleagues reminded me a lot of Mr. W. He was one of the PE teachers with a cool office. I was teaching health classes.  We started hanging out and golfing together.  One night we were having a few beers and re-gripping our clubs when he started telling me a story about a friend that had just passed away at age 42 from cancer.  In an effort to connect, I started telling him the story about Mr. W.  Who I had just heard from a childhood friend had died at age 42 from cancer.  Unknown to both of us we were talking about the same person.  We spent the next few hours drinking and sharing stories.  We played together in the first annual golf tournament in Mr W honor that spring.  I got to share some of my memories with his family, and watched his young son give an emotional speech about his dad after dinner.  A few years later I would be diagnosed with cancer.          

On December 31, 2025 my teaching career came to a bittersweet end.  I turned 40 and had to leave teaching because of health issues. If I continue to follow the path Mr. W started me on I guess I have a couple years left before my son is giving speeches.  Most of my adult life I have spent striving to have a positive impact on kids the way Mr. W had on me.  Using sports to help shape students to become better than they believe they can be.  I’m not sure how I will use the rest of my time now that my teaching career is over, but I’d like to think that I’m someone's Mr. W.