CHAPTER 10

A SUMMER OF CHANGE

You either get better or you get worse. You never stay the same.

ED THOMAS

IN 1975, THE ONLY THING ED KNEW ABOUT PARKERSBURG was that it needed a football coach. He accepted a job interview, but only as a backup plan. Before the interview, he went home to What Cheer to talk to his friend Tom Teeple about the place. “I’m looking for a new job and a step up. I have two interviews next week, one in Allison and one in Parkersburg,” Ed said.

That grabbed Teep’s attention. Although he was not originally from Parkersburg, he and his wife, Sue, had lived there for a couple of years right after he graduated from barber college. “I love Parkersburg, but they don’t have much of a program,” Teep said, and then added, “and Allison has all the studs.”

“Yep,” Ed said with a confident smile.

“Why don’t you stay at Northeast Hamilton?” Teep asked.

“Can’t. I already quit. I turned in my resignation as soon as I got the job interviews at Parkersburg and Allison. I’ve been at Northeast three years. I figure I’ll spend three years, maybe four, at the next place and just work my way up the ladder.”

To Teep, it seemed clear which job Ed would take. “Allison would be a good next step.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Two weeks later, Teep was surprised when Ed came back to his barbershop and announced, “Well, I took the Parkersburg job.”

Teep couldn’t believe his ears. “What about Allison?”

“They offered it to me,” Ed said, “but only after I’d already given a verbal commitment to Parkersburg. I wasn’t going to go back on my word. Besides, I was impressed with the community and the school administration in Parkersburg. I think it has a lot to offer.”

“As a good next step.”

“I think so.”

Five years into Ed’s three-year plan, Parkersburg played for its first state championship. That made him decide to stick around a little longer. In all, he led Parkersburg to the state championship game twice, and Aplington-Parkersburg, after the two schools merged, four times, winning two titles. That level of success made Ed a hot commodity on the coaching front. A couple of years after Parkersburg played in the state championship game for the first time, Tom Teeple was working as an umpire at a baseball tournament in another town. The athletic director of the town’s high school came up to him and said, “We’re getting your football coach. I offered Ed Thomas the job as our head football coach, and he’s going to take it.”

“Did he sign a contract yet?” was Teep’s only response.

“Well, no,” the AD said.

“Uh, OK,” Teep replied with a tone that said more than his words.

The next morning, Teep got together for coffee with Ed and their usual coffee crew, which included Jim Graves, the man who coined the phrase “the Sacred Acre” while giving Ed a hard time about the amount of time he spent working on his field. The moment Ed walked in, Teep said, “So you gonna need some help moving?”

“What are you talking about?” Ed said.

“I was umpiring over in Independence last night, and the AD there told me you’re taking a job there. They have a pretty good program. I can see why you’re interested in it, although I think we’ve got a pretty good program right here,” Teep said.

Ed shook his head in disbelief that the word had slipped out. “We’re considering it, but I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he said.

Later that afternoon, Ed came into Teep’s barbershop and announced, “We’re not going.”

Several years later, Simpson College offered Ed a job as its head football coach. Aaron and Todd had finished high school by this point. As Ed considered it, Jan told him, “If you’re going to make a move, this is the perfect time.” The job tempted him. After all, he had always dreamed of moving up to the college ranks. Every high school coach does, just as every college coach dreams of moving up to the pros. While Simpson was a small school, it offered Ed opportunities he could never dream about in a town like Parkersburg. Ed nearly took the job, but he finally decided to stay put.

No, Ed never imagined he would stay in Parkersburg forever, but those closest to him were not surprised. They knew how much he loved the town, and they saw the impact he had on his players. Frosty Westering’s book Make the Big Time Where You Are encouraged Ed that he was on the right track in his belief that bigger doesn’t always mean better. On top of that, all of his and Jan’s closest friends lived in Parkersburg.

Yet the single biggest reason Ed settled down for good in Parkersburg came down to one peculiar quirk in his personality: he hated change. Once he found something that worked, he stuck with it. In 1978, three years after he came to Parkersburg, he watched Emmetsburg High School run the “quick huddle” — that is, the offense breaks its huddle, runs to the line of scrimmage, and snaps the ball before the defense can get set. Ed liked it so much that he ran it in Parkersburg that season, and every other season for the next thirty years. He also used the same playbook year after year after year. Players who suited up for him in 2007 ran essentially the same plays he used back in 1987. Ed joked that he only had five offensive plays, which was not far from the truth. Opposing coaches knew exactly what A-P’s offense would throw at them. Yet knowing what play is coming and stopping it are two different things. Ed prided himself on having his teams in such good physical condition and so prepared for game night that they would outhustle and outlast their opponents.

Yes, Ed hated change, yet that was exactly what he faced nearly every minute of every day throughout the summer following the tornado. His life, his team, his community, his family — everything was in flux. The biggest change of all came at the school.

Aplington-Parkersburg High School was Ed’s mission field, his church, the place to which God had called him to make a difference in the lives of students. In July, just under two months after the tornado, a train of dump trucks and flatbed trailers carrying back hoes, excavators, and bulldozers pulled into the parking lot of Ed’s mission field. Slowly but surely over the next two weeks, demolition crews finished off what the tornado had started.

Watching the school come down, piece by piece, day by day, didn’t help the mood in Parkersburg. It felt like a protracted funeral. A group of students sat on the grass below the elementary school, right across the street from the high school, and wept. Periodically other students and their parents joined them. Every once in a while, someone pulled out a camera and snapped a few pictures. However, most people just sat and stared. They didn’t want to take any pictures. Most preferred to remember the school the way it was before the storm.

On the last day of the demolition, Chris Luhring drove out to the golf course looking for Ed. If this had been a normal summer, the golf course would have been the first place Chris went to find him instead of the last. But this summer was anything but normal, and today was an especially abnormal day, and not just because Ed had taken a rare afternoon off.

“Hey, Coach, how ya doing?” Chris asked. “Any day when I get to play golf is a good day,” Ed said with a smile.

“Yeah. You haven’t been able to do much of that this summer. So how did you do?”

“Played the front nine a few strokes over par. Didn’t do too bad considering how little I’ve played lately.”

“That’s good. Yeah, well, I just wanted to check and make sure you were OK, Coach. I better get back to work.”

“So what’s really going on, Chris? I know you didn’t drive all the way out here to ask about my golf game.”

Chris smiled. “Sure I did.”

“I know they finished tearing the school down today,” Ed said. “It’s all right. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. That’s why I’m here instead of there. A friend told me I shouldn’t be there when they tore the last of it down, and he was right. So, yeah, it’s eating at me a little.”

“I’m sorry, Coach. I know how much the school means to you. It means a lot to all of us.”

“Thanks, Chris. I appreciate your concern. Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll be all right. After all, the demolition crew is just finishing what the tornado started. Besides, we’ve got to clear the site if we’re going to get into the new building by the start of school a year from now. Me and the principal and superintendent have already started talking about what we want to put in the plans for the new school. This is our chance to give Aplington and Parkersburg a state-of-the-art facility without passing a bond issue or raising taxes or any of the other things school districts have to do to build a new building.”

Chris knew his old coach meant every word, but he could tell this was a tough day for Ed. “Just like the football field, uh, Coach? Gonna build it back better than before.”

Ed smiled. “Yeah, something like that,” he said.

“So, you going to play the back nine?” Chris asked.

“No,” Ed said, “I need to get back to work.”

A week or so later, Ed called the school superintendent, Jon Thompson. “Jon, you’ve gotta come see this!” Ed said. “The lights are up!” “What?” Jon asked.

“The lights are up. The guys from Musco Lighting just finished installing the last of the lights. They don’t have any electricity yet, but all the light poles are up on all the fields —football, baseball, softball, tennis. You can’t believe how good they look.”

“Hey, Coach, turn around,” Jon said. “I’m parked right behind you.”

Ed spun around. When he saw Jon, he broke out in a huge grin and waved. Jon walked over to him and the two of them stood and stared and took it all in. The new light poles looked nothing like the old. Before, the lights hung atop wooden poles, sort of like extra-tall telephone poles. Not the new ones. Musco Lighting installed steel poles on every one of the athletic fields. With no trees or houses or any other buildings on the south side of town to block the view, you could see the metal poles shining in the sun for miles around. Not only did Musco install the lights; they donated the lights for the football field. Originally, they had offered to install the same kind of lights that the field had before. Ed wanted to kick it up a notch and install stronger, brighter lights. When he told Musco Lighting what he wanted, the company told him, “Sure. No problem. Whatever you need.”

Ed and Jon didn’t say a word for a few minutes as they stood and stared at the new light poles. Below them, workers cut I-beams for the new bleachers. From the far side of the football field they heard a cement truck backing up to pour more concrete near the visitors’ stands. “It’s going to happen,” Ed said. “We’re going to pull this off.”

“You know, Coach, I think you’re right,” Jon said.

Two weeks later, Jon’s cell phone rang again. Coach was calling. Jon glanced at his watch. It was after 9:00 p.m. The sun had slipped below the horizon, although it was not yet completely dark.

“Are you still in town?” Ed asked.

“No, why?”

“Meet me at the school.” “Why? Is there a problem?”

“Jon, do I only call you when something’s gone wrong? Wait, don’t answer that. Anyway, no. There isn’t a problem. Just meet me at the school. You’ll see why.”

Jon got in his car and headed toward Parkersburg. His son, Alec, was already there working out with the football team.

Long before he got close to the school, he knew why Ed wanted to see him. The entire south side of town was dark, just like it was every night. No streetlights. No house lights, nothing. That side of town had been dark for so long that the blackness looked normal.

But not tonight. There in the distance Jon saw the lights of the football field shining bright. By the time he got to the field, a crowd had already started to form. Football players and their parents walked around on the Sacred Acre like they had never seen light before. Adults laughed while players high-fived each other. The Fourth of July had already passed, but to Jon and the people dancing across the field, it felt like the Fourth of July and Christmas rolled into one.

The superintendent found Ed and gave him a hug. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in all your life?” Ed said to him.

Jon grinned. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

Ed left the lights on for nearly an hour. No one wanted to leave the party. The A-P Falcons would not play their first game for nearly a month, and the bleachers, scoreboard, fencing, press box, and everything else needed for the game were far from finished. But on this night that didn’t seem to matter. The first light on the south side of town came from the Sacred Acre, from the field where Ed’s team played football, like a city shining on a hill. For the town of Parkersburg, it now felt like they had turned a corner. The town was not the same as it was on May 24, and it never would be again. But in the light of this night, the future never looked brighter.