Nostalgia has become my best friend as of late. I don’t know if it’s a sign of getting older, or because I am at the cusp of another major life change. Nostalgia woke me up at 4:30 to remind me that there was a single man and a single event that changed my life and gave me the fuel to be the hard working delusional dreamer that I am... Coach John Jimenez of Santa Maria High School is retiring and his impact on me has been immeasurable.
It was ’82, and I was a sophomore. I was a good basketball player but not special. Like today, my ambition and dreams were much more prominent than my skills. Add to the raging imagination some combustible hormones and a lethal dose of shy nerdiness and you got 16 year old me. I had a crush on every cheerleader and any girl that said “Hi” to me. Like today, I thought any communication at all from a female meant a request for my loins. I had even discovered, after hours of self-studying in the mirror, that by tucking my lips in and keeping my eyebrows raised was how I looked best and most irresistible. I walked around school waiting for girls to be bowled over by my lipless cool mouth and pre-Botox eyebrow arcs. It got to the point that even when I scored a basket, I ran down the court like that. Then came Coach.
Coach Jimenez was the JV coach, and I was a little perturbed at not being put on the Varsity. I played 1 on 1 with Fish and Cowger every day. I put books and shoes and canned goods into a suitcase every night before bed, put that suitcase on my knees, and did calf raises. My best friend Eddie Johnson was on the Varsity football team as a sophomore, and we had planned our lives every Friday night since the 6th grade. I would sleep over and foretell our future with these dreams of fame, fortune and females. Never once did “JV” enter our Friday night dreamweaving. Coach Yanez, the Varsity coach, told me I could play on Varsity, but that I’d sit on the bench and that Coach Jimenez wanted me on the JV’s. I began the season hating Coach Jimenez the way you hate anybody that wakes you up from a good dream.
He had a huge mustache, a huge knee brace and a real little pair of brown corduroy OP shorts. He ALWAYS wore a Nike T shirt. That guy was on my ass from the second that I got to school. Always teaching me post up moves on the way to class. "Lenox when you get in the post you gottta put your butt on the defender’s legs and put your elbow in his chest so he can’t get around you”. I’d just stand there with my tucked lips and high eyebrows just in case anybody was watching.
Our first game of the year was against Santa Barbara High, and they were a bigger school. A win against them would be a big deal for us. I was dominant in the layup line. I had all my cool moves down: Slap the glass, get above the rim, finger roll, and unnecessary spin on the way to the bucket. Yeah, I was ready.
I scored 10 points in the first quarter, and we led at halftime. In the second half, I turned into Charlie Brown when he was winning the race and started fantasizing about the little red headed girl and ran off the track. I fouled out early, and we lost on a lay up at the buzzer that I know would have never gone in if I was under the bucket. I stormed off the court and slammed through the doors of the locker room. I hadn't meant to push them as hard as I did, but the noise turned heads. Coach came out of the office and said “WHO slammed he door?!” I stood there scared, and he knew it was me. He grabbed me by my jersey and slammed me against the wall and growled at me. “We lost that game because of you! Stop trying to look so goddamn cool and just play ball Lenox!!!”
Now if that happened today, Coach would be on Dateline NBC, I’d be crying on the Nancy Grace show, and my mom would have Al Sharpton picketing the school. I guess that’s the difference between teachers then and now. Teachers then would not hesitate to tell you the truth in order to teach. Today not getting sued is just as important as getting the kids educated.
After practice, the following Monday, Coach made me stay after and sweep the floors. That's when I snapped and yelled, "why you always on my case?!” Cue dramatic music that indicates words of wisdom are near: “Darryl, you are the one who wants to play college ball. You gotta work harder than everybody else. If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t be pushing you at all. I know you can do it but you gotta be willing to put in the work.” That became the first time anybody ever believed in me, and I immediately unfurled my lips and straightened my eyebrows. I did eventually play college ball but that isn’t where I really saw the benefits of my 1 year of playing for Coach Jiminez. It has been in the two decades of chasing this show business dream, and becoming a better man, friend, husband. “…You can do it. You just gotta be willing to put the work in…”
Thanks Coach…Embrace your legacy, put your butt on its legs and your elbow in its chest so it can’t get around you.
