To My Magnificent Agents, Staff and Friends:
Last week I received an email that made me consider the central question we all face in life, what path shall I walk that ends in fulfillment? Is it wealth? Fame? Beauty? Talent? Knowledge? While all of these may be desirable, should they be what we and our society covet and equate with success and fulfillment? The email answers this fundamental life question with a series of challenges.
Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.
Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer prize.
Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor or actress.
Name the last decade’s worth of World Series or Super Bowl winners.
The email then goes on to ask you to recall and name a few of the teachers or coaches who inspired you in grade school or high school. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time or five people who taught you something worthwhile, or made you feel appreciated or special.
The message brings you to a simple yet profound conclusion. The people who make the biggest difference in our lives are not required to, and most likely don’t, have the most credentials, money, fame or awards. They are simply the ones who care the most about you. I am fortunate that there have been many of these people that I’ve encountered in my life. One was Coach Larry Dauterive.
Over forty years ago, in 1969, my senior year in high school, Larry became head coach. It was the first time he held that position. He couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties. Over 40 years later he is still coaching. This year he will be the leading the Opelousas High Tiger football program.
In my junior year of high school, just prior to the start of our spring football training, while driving to a school dance, one of the assistant football coaches, who was in a car behind us, observed myself and another football team member and our dates consuming alcoholic beverages and smoking cigarettes. This was an obvious violation of the law, the school’s rules, and our team’s code.
After being subjected to numerous punishments by both the school and my parents, Larry Dauterive called me into his office. He said that he was already aware of the discipline that had been meted out to me by the others, but despite that, I was still answerable to the team and to him. If I was going to remain a member of our team I would have to accept the consequences of my actions. Each day following our rigorous spring practice, I would have to do 100 yards of summersaults and 100 yards of belly flops in full pads. It was my choice – either quit the team or endure the punishment. Additionally, I would no longer play defensive end or offensive fullback. This was the position I had in my junior year until a knee injury knocked me out for the season. Instead, I would have to compete for the position of offensive guard.
I was stunned. My former positions held much more potential for accolades and glory and, at only 150 pounds on a good day, how was I going to block defensive linemen that outweighed me by 40-50 pounds? Also, our practices were long and grueling. At the end of them we were all exhausted. How could I sprint 10 yards, do a summersault then sprint 10 more and repeat that for 100 yards then do the same, sprinting 10 yards and falling to the ground and getting up to sprint 10 more yards and flop down on my stomach again – for 100 more yards? I knew I couldn’t do it and I actually thought that perhaps it might kill me!
In a moment of blatant honesty, I told Coach that I’d like to stay on the team. I’d even accept being moved to the guard position, but I didn’t think I could physically get through the summersaults and belly flops one time, let alone every day for two weeks. He replied, “Beau, (that was his nickname for me) you’ll never truly know what kind of man you are if you just accept the easy things in life. That’s because it’s only in times that you’re tested by failure and adversity that you find out how resilient you are, how tough you are, what your true attitude is, and what you are really made of. I think you’re selling yourself short, If you agree, I believe you not only can do it, you will do it.”
I agreed. The other player, my best friend, who had met with Coach just before me, left the team.
After that first practice, while everyone was walking to the field house to shower and change, Coach and I lined up in the end zone to start my punishment. I got through the first 100 yards of summersaults, but I was weaving, shaky and couldn’t catch my breath. “I can’t do it, Coach,” I gasped. “You are doing it!” he replied. He put his hand in the waistband of my pants and dragged me for ten yards. He blew his whistle then pushed me to the ground. Then he snatched the back of my jersey and lifted me off the ground. He dragged me another ten yards, blew his whistle and pushed me back again to the ground only to lifted me up and do it again. This went on for the full 100 yards. When we finished he said, “You see, Beau, I knew you could do it!”
The next day after practice, we repeated the same process. Each day I got a little bit further along before he had to carry me, and each day he would finish with the same words, “Beau, I knew you could do it!” By the end of spring break I was able to complete the entire process on my own. On that last day, Larry smiled and put his arm around me, called the whole team into a circle around us and said, “Beau, I am proud to call you a member of our team, but I’m even prouder of you as a man.”
The lessons I learned from young Larry Dauterive went well beyond football, although he was quite adept at that. Weighing slightly north of 150 pounds, he molded me into an all-district offensive guard, but he also helped mold me into a man. Throughout my life whenever I have faced discouragement, poor performance, failure, self-doubt, criticism, injury, heartbreak, or any other of the many burdens life has sent me. When I feel like I am beaten down and I can’t get up, I harken back to Coach Larry’s words, “You are doing it!” I feel his arms lifting me and pushing me just 10 yards further. I hear him say, “You see, Beau, I knew you could do it.”
Larry Dauterive was, and still is, one of those truly important people in the world. There a millions of them. They’re not found in Hollywood or at rock concerts. They’re rare in Washington or state capitols or corporate America. Famous or rich is not their criteria for life. Fulfillment is. And, as such, they have positively influenced the lives of most of us.
It is my hope that I have served as a Larry Dauterive to some of the many who have passed me on the road of life. If that is the case, I count myself as a very wealthy and fulfilled man. It is my hope also that you have been so blessed.
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
Bill