Coach Bell

“Coach Bell died today.”

Those were the words I shared with two of my best friends since childhood last week. 

Both friends are hard nosed football coaches who learned their craft in the backyard playing tackle football without helmets.  Both gave me my earliest lessons in concussion.  Both were moved to sadness and near tears as the sudden news swept their memories.  

Joel Fred Bell came to Harriman, Tennessee to be an assistant football coach after graduating from Carson Newman in the early 1980’s.  He was a man of unusual strength.  A strength not merely measured by weight lifting but of real strength from hard work, inner determination and faith.   

We were a pitiful team posting a 0-10 season when he arrived.  We made excuses.  We whined and complained.  We had a locker room full of mirrors and not enough sweat.  

He changed that.  He expanded our weight room.  He gave us individual workout schedules.  He held us accountable to being there or suffering the consequences:  answering to him and that look he could give.  

He never boasted about his football career.  He didn’t have to.  When Ricky Taylor became our first player to attempt 300 pounds on the bench press the team stood and watched as one of our greatest athletes nearly succeeded.  

When Ricky got up, Coach Bell slid in under the bar, took it in hand and - in a quick one, two, three, four, five, reps of the same 300 pounds - said more than we had ever heard from a coach.  

The clang of the weights was the only sound in the room until he quipped, “Back to work.”  We did.   

He taught us toughness.  His treatment plan for injuries in practice was “Get up and quit killin’ the grass.”  He thought we weren’t intense enough in one pre-game warm up so he got in the middle of the bull ring to call us out one by one.  I was called out first. I still have a scar on my chin from the forearm he gave me.  

We had great success my senior year from his determined motivation and intensity.  His defensive schemes had never been seen before at Harriman.  Our opponents were perplexed at the change of our usual garden variety defense into an intense swarm of players.  He had that effect on the field.  

That was over thirty years ago.  His greatest impact, though, still lives on.  

Young athletes, scholars and musicians begin to learn in their teens their natural gifts and talents.  It is the dedication and investment of coaches, teachers and parents that creates the environment where the young adult may develop those gifts by refining them with habits and determination.  Wasted talent breaks a mentor’s heart.  

Team first, me second.  Delayed gratification.  No complaining.  No excuses.  No whining.  Be accountable.  Be on time.  Be where you are supposed to be.  Do what you are supposed to do.  THINK!

The list of careers his players achieved is remarkable for a small town.  Nuclear engineer for the Navy.  Three football coaches, one of whom coached a state championship team.  US Marshall.  Award winning high school principal.  Engineer at Oak Ridge.  Accountant for the City of Atlanta. All good men and close friends.  

Great coaches build character before they ever build a team.  But great coaches must have character before they ever hope to build it in others.  

His love for us came from his love and devotion in his faith.  He left Harriman and to teach in his home of Cocke County and became a loving husband, father and grandfather.  His devotion to the Gideons, his church, family, friends and neighbors was demonstrated with a quick smile, genuine inquiry of interest, and a consistent “I’ll pray for you.”  

And you knew he didn’t just say it.  He did it.  

I will join my lifelong friends and fellow football players this Saturday to pay our respects to our coach and share our condolences to his family.  A coach who changed our view of ourselves, each other, and the world.  He showed us what it takes to overcome adversity, tough breaks, bad habits and bad attitude.  

A man who showed us how to not be afraid to express love.  A man who died far too young yet lived life fully.  

I have now witnessed the passing of my dad, father-in-law and coach in less than one year.  All three had great work ethic, character and deep faith.  I am trained by my profession to push back the inevitability of death as far as possible, but when it occurs, the memories, love and lessons must, and will, live on in my own life.   

Rest in peace, Coach.