I was Leland High School’s clumsiest football player — the exact opposite of athleticism, and during our senior-year season, my self-esteem was at an all-time low. Gawky, ungainly, skeleton thin, weighing only 117 pounds, I was ashamed to join my teammates on the field. After practice, I’d go home, flop on my bed, cry, and ponder the question: Will I ever be a man?
I got the answer from a man who dramatically changed my life for the better — Coach Ben Ruscoe. He knew what I was going through, and was determined to do something about it. He was always there beside us during the difficult passage from boyhood to manhood, teaching us how to be men by making us believe in ourselves.
In those days, Leland was part of the Delta Valley Conference, and in the Mississippi flatlands, football was tantamount to a religion. Every Friday-night game was a fierce 60-minute struggle, with rabid fans packing the bleachers, and Coach had to field his best players if he hoped to win, meaning I sat on the bench. But my opportunity would come, and he was certain not to let it pass.
The late October night was chilly, and in the fourth quarter I sat on the bench, shivering. Suddenly, I heard a thundering voice: “Reed, in at left halfback.”
Terrified and excited, I stood beside him as he told me which play to give the quarterback. Then I felt that big, strong arm pulling me close. “You can do it, son; I believe in you — believe in yourself.” Those galvanizing words erased all fear in my heart.
When I entered the huddle and announced Coach’s call, I saw my teammates glance at each other. I knew what they were thinking … we’re only twenty yards from the goal — and Coach is letting Reed run the ball?
I have no doubt Coach was praying his heart out. He knew how weak and clumsy I was, but he also knew that I was fast, and when the linesmen provided an opening I shot through it like a rabbit, frightened out of hiding.
With the goal line only feet away, an opposing player’s crushing blow slammed me to the ground, but Coach’s prayers had been answered. Looking up, I saw what I can still see to this day: a referee with his hands over his head. That year, Coach led us to the Delta Valley Conference championship.
On March 17, 2012, Ben Ruscoe left us. Like everyone else who loved the great man so much, the news shocked me, but it wasn’t until later that I fully realized how much he meant to me. Suddenly I began to weep — not once, but many times.
Coach took me where I couldn’t take myself — to manhood. He taught me that the true measure of a man is what he does with what he has.
I will always miss you, Coach, and I will always be grateful that you taught me how to be a man.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
