Dear Coach

To my dear friend, Coach Don Williams,

The most simple of rides on our school’s John Deere Gator had one of the greatest impacts on me, and there’s no way you could have ever known that.

It was my first summer with the football team. I had just joined the staff as the offensive line coach. I was desperate to make friends with the other coaches on the staff, and as most of the coaches on staff weren’t really “sharers” in any traditional sense, it was up to me to put myself out there and get to know people. The other coaches on the offensive staff warned me about you: to them, you were quick to anger, snappy, too “old school” for their tastes, too religious, too “judgey” whatever that meant. But to me, you smiled. You shook my hand. You were welcoming. So I wanted to get a of judge of you, myself.

Early that June morning, we’re setting up outside the weight room for a lift and a practice. You zipped along with the Gator, helping to get water lined up and get equipment out to the practice field. I asked if I could tag along. I wanted to help, sure, but more so, I wanted to talk with you, get to know you. It was a brief, 15-minute journey, around to the practice field and around the parking lot and to the field house. But in that time, you asked me about my wife and kids. You asked me about where I was going to church. We joked that you and my pastor have the same exact name. You asked me about where I came from, where I’ve coached at, who I pull for. You got to know me tremendously well in just a short time. I got a sense of who you were, but you got my autobiography.

When I hopped on that Gator, it was because I thought you were an important man. You’d been coaching forever, you were the wrestling head coach, you were smart and determined, and everything about you came off as confident and knowledgeable, and I wanted to know this man. But you cared more about me in that ride, asked me more of myself than I did of you. And you know what I learned about you?

You’re a man who cares.

Since that day, I’ve gotten to know you and your beautiful wife tremendously. You’re kind, gracious, genuine. And that mean nature I thought you had early on? No doubt someone saw your determined, assured demeanor and misconstrued toughness and vigilance for something more malevolent. Once I saw who you really were, it was the first time in my adult life that I longed for a mentor to show me how to be a better man, a better father, a better teacher, and a better coach. And you have been so generous to share these things with me. In the three years I’ve worked with you, I couldn’t ask for a better friend, a better role model, and a better “dad.” I have cherished every moment of getting to know this wonderful, genuine man.

And now as you approach a well-deserved retirement, please know this: you know that you’ve touched the lives of many students in your time as a teacher. You’ve told me all about them. You know that you’ve touched many lives as a coach, from your experience in football to the unbelievable successes you’ve managed as a program builder for numerous wrestling programs. I know this, as these same athletes play football for me, and they speak of you in hushed tones, respectfully, as much a legend to them, a hero, as you are a coach.

But please know that you’ve touched my life, as well.

Don’t just enjoy retirement because you made it and your time is up. Enjoy it because you’ve accomplished amazing things. Enjoy it because you will be so thoroughly and deeply missed. Enjoy it because you’ve been a good and faithful servant. Because you have been an example to us all. Because you’ve been an example to me.

I love you, and I thank you, and I wish you a joyful and fulfilling retirement.

With abundant joy and limitless respect,

Bryan E Buffkin

Waccamaw High School