Remembering Dewey Combs

He was just passing through, as so many do. But some people here still remember Dewey Combs.

This 87-year-old man died from a sudden illness at his home in Carthage on June 25. He spent little more than a year here at Gallatin. His job at our school included coaching football — working to develop scrawny, mule-headed kids into confident young men. It was one of his former players who brought Combs’ obituary to my attention this week past.

Combs was a coach and teacher with several schools during his 30-year career. The obituary listed a record of 231-65-14 for four different schools: Golden City, Gallatin, Trenton and at Joplin (for 19 years).

Coach had undefeated Missouri state championship teams at Parkwood in Joplin in 1975, 1980 and 1983. His 1976 team was also undefeated, but due to the Missouri point system, the team was excluded from the playoffs — an omission which sparked a change in Missouri’s playoff point system.

Dewey Combs was elected into the Missouri Sports Hall of Fame in 2010, having already been inducted into the Missouri High School Football Coaches Hall of Fame in 1985. Just a couple of years ago, Joplin’s Junge Stadium was renamed the Dewey Combs Athletic Complex at Junge Field in tribute to the man who influenced so many lives over the years.

Coach Combs may not be as familiar to you as is Coach Bill Snyder of K-State fame, who also happened through Gallatin as a sort of “one year wonder,” but they both share the same trait where greatness is not necessarily measured by the won-loss record but by those you touch along the way.

An old friend shared a memory. Although decades have passed, his eyes still twinkled while recalling how the young coach approached everything in a brisk, macho manner. His business was about instilling drive and competitiveness in youngsters soon to enter this dog-eat-dog world — and his demand of your best effort included everyone in his contact, even wannabe Bulldog youngsters too young for Red & Black uniforms who volunteered to work as team managers.

Game scores have faded. My friend, in fact, remembers little about the practices or drills to hone athletic skills. His most vivid memory focuses on something much more important: A realization that the world doesn’t evolve just around you; the need to recognize authority is a necessary first building block.

Coach Combs put it this way, something he said to all his underlings that evidently stuck: “Your soul may belong to God, but your _ _ belongs to me!”

He’d probably get in trouble for saying something like that today. But every coach worth his salt plays some variation on that theme. And the truly great ones forge such a bond with players that such words can be said bluntly. It describes a relationship where meaning transcends the exact words.

Done correctly, coaching creates a bond that lasts a lifetime. Rest in peace, Coach Combs. Blest be the ties that bind.

CORRECTION

Last week I discussed  Thomas Hart Benton, one of two statues in the National Statuary Hall from Missouri. The marble statue by Alexander Doyle is of Thomas Hart Benton, famed soldier and legislator — and great-uncle to the artist also named Thomas Hart Benton.

I apologize for mixing these two men with identical names, even merging these two different men into one. Let me set the ledger straight.

The Benton memorialized by statue was born in North Carolina in 1782. His family migrated to Tennessee, where his father died. As a young man, Benton was left in charge of considerable land holdings; he established a law practice and served as a colonel in the War of 1812 under General Andrew Jackson. Moving to St. Louis in 1815, he practiced law and edited the second newspaper west of the Mississippi.

An active supporter of statehood, he was elected in 1820 as one of the first two senators from Missouri and served for 30 years. He championed the cause of the yeoman farmer and the interests of the western territories. The demarcation of the United States-Canadian border at the 49° parallel was in accordance with his proposal. His staunch support of hard money (the anti-United States Bank position) earned him the sobriquet, “Old Bullion.” He was recognized as a Senate leader for the Jackson and Van Buren administrations and an orator to challenge Clay, Webster, and Calhoun.

In 1850 it was Benton’s outspoken anti-slavery views that cost him his Senate seat. Thus, despite my mistaken identity, the point of my column last week nevertheless holds. Thomas Hart Benton never shied away from hard truths.

Again, I beg your pardon for my mistake. I thank our State Rep. J. Eggleston for pointing out my error. (And, I can only think it underscores a need for me to vacation in Washington, D.C., and go straight to the National Statuary Hall — and soon — don’t you agree?)