Pat

Those early days of coaching football at North Side acclimated me to the school and staff. The time between practices was the best time for me to explore the building and meet the people there.  After we would meet to plan our next practice and a few games of Knucks, we would get lunch and prepare for the afternoon practice.

One of my jobs was to refill the ice chests.  In 1974 that meant going back to the main building because the stadium was free standing and not attached to the main building like it is today.  It wasn't a long trip, and I had the team managers to help.  Once that was finished, I usually had an hour or two to fill.  That is when I got to know Jim Liewenski, the English department head; By Hey, the basketball coaching legend; and so many other members of the staff.

The staff member that still stands out from those early days was the custodian who greeted me every afternoon on my trip to the ice machine.  His name was Pat.  Through time I have lost his last name, but his face is indelible in my memory.  He was short in height, probably around 5' 6.  He had a round jolly face always centered with a huge smile.  My perception was that he was an old man, but I was only 24 at the time, so I was probably off.  Finally, his distinctive signature was the baseball cap that he always wore.

Pat was the groundskeeper, so the football staff got to know him very well.  While he was mowing, watering, or hauling trash, he made a point to stop and watch practice.  He loved the team and all of the players.  And they loved him.

On many of my trips to the main building, I would see Pat at his desk eating his lunch.  If he was finished, I knew that was going to be a day that I would hear a story.  His stories were about North Side, his trips, and his life.  I'm not sure that any of his stories were that great, but the enthusiasm with which he told them was why we listened to them.  Storytelling was his gift to those around him.  When we listened, that was our gift back.

There were other days that when I went through the custodial area that Pat would be asleep.  Those were the days that our morning practice went long.  Pat finished his lunch on those days, slipped down in his chair, pulled his hat over his eyes, and he would take a nap.  We never bothered him on those days.  Stories could wait until the next day.

Towards the end of my first summer of two-a-day practices, we were preparing for the city jamboree.  This was an event that gave all of the high school teams a chance to play a quarter of football against an opponent to try out what they had been working on in practice.  All of the schools were there, and it was a signal that the school year was about to start.  In the stands students would reconnect after the long summer, and freshman initiations were everywhere.

That afternoon we prepared for the "game."  As a result, we didn't have an afternoon practice, so I went to get ice later so that we could get it onto the bus for the game.  It was much later in the afternoon than my usual trip to the main building.  As I entered the custodial area, I noticed that Pat was in his usual place for his noon nap.  Everything was in place - slouched, hat over his eyes.  I didn't think anything about it, since I didn't know what Pat did later in the day.  When I returned through the custodial area, Pat was still there asleep, or so I thought.

We were loading up the team on the bus an hour later.  Across the parking lot, I saw an ambulance.  Several of the custodians were gathered around it.  There were no sirens.  No one was moving quickly.  I and the other coaches made our way to the ambulance.  The head custodian came to us, knowing what we were going to ask.  "It's Pat.  We think he must have died in his sleep."

What we found out later was that it was a heart attack.  Over time I have wondered how many people passed Pat that day, including me, who could have helped him.  What I do know is that Pat's story didn't end that day, but that is the focus of another blog in the future.