Talk About a Special Friend

To an entire community!

I discovered the real Walter Wilder on a cold, windswept, Tennessee mountain top baseball field in early March of 1966. I was a freshman shortstop, barely hanging on….

With the bases loaded, the batter cracked a hard grounder back up the middle, I instinctively moved to my left, lost sight of the ball as our pitcher leaped in front of it, it reappeared momentarily and then disappeared again as the umpire jumped into view trying to avoid it. The ball magically reappeared just as it bounced UNDER my outstretched glove….

The error cost us two runs, and left runners on first and third.

“Colbert,” Coach Majors had left the bench and was almost to the first base line, yelling, “you don’t wanna play baseball! If I had anyone else, you wouldn’t be out there!”

One more run, two outs, a broken heart, and a vow to quit this game AND this university later, the worst inning of my entire life ended. I was thinking about hitchhiking to Alaska when Coach Wilder put his hand gently on my shoulder….

“Kes, you didn’t even see the ball, did you?”

“Coach, I have to make that play—” I was trying to give the all-American answer. Coach Wilder was having none of that. He cut me off, “Don’t worry about one very difficult ground ball. You’re one the best freshman players I’ve ever seen. Coach Majors knows that or he wouldn’t have you out there.”

He was exaggerating a mite, but you talk about a breath of fresh air when I was suffocating!

He invited the team to his house. He, and his beautiful wife, would feed us. Coach Wilder went the extra mile to get to know us. He asked questions and LISTENED when we answered. He cared about us. And good golly, you ought to have seen him hit a baseball!

It took a while but one day Coach Majors began treating me like I was part of the team. I have always felt that Coach Wilder had a hand in that.

My heart took a nosedive when he left after my sophomore year. He had taken a job back in his hometown somewhere in Florida. I didn’t remember the name. I would never forget him, of course. My life had been enhanced by his presence. And if I perchance ever did any serious coaching, I would want to be just like him.

It was another early March, this one in 1969, when I got a rare call on the dormitory phone. I was surprised to hear Coach Wilder’s voice, “Kes, I’d like for you to come to Port St. Joe and teach history and coach football and baseball for us.”

Honesty compels me to report. I immediately thought, “No way.” I am a Tennessee guy. I am not going to Florida. BUT this was Coach Wilder speaking to me!

“Kes,” he continued, “come down for a visit. I want you to meet Coach Taylor and Gene Raffield. Get to know some of our people. I believe you will like it here. And if you don’t, I will move you back to Tennessee myself.”

I took the job…and stayed for the next 57 and a half years, and I’m still counting!

Anything, and everything, I have accomplished in life I owe in large part to Walter Wilder.

I stayed with Coach and Mrs. Wilder when I first came to town. Mrs. Wilder, who was way nicer than we even imagined in college, told me a hundred times over the years, “Call me Diana.”

I never did. Too much respect for her, and Coach.

They were already friends. He became my boss, mentor, and a great ear to listen to the ups and downs of my budding career. He was one of the most intelligent, thoughtful, and yet, down to earth guys I’ve ever known. And I can guarantee you, you rarely find all three of those traits in one person.

I went into his office once and told him I was thinking about running for a political office. He laughed. And then Coach Wilder stopped everything he was doing for two hours and went over in minute detail all that I was getting into. And all I needed to do to be successful.

He didn’t have to pledge his full and unconditional support. He had been giving me that since I was eighteen years old.

The greatness of Walter Wilder was that he treated everyone exactly like he treated me. He was a genuine blessing to his family, to his friends, and to anyone lucky enough to cross his path. He worked relentlessly for, and loved dearly, our whole community. You talk about a life well lived!

My heart paused in midbeat when I heard the news of Walter Wilder’s passing. I thought immediately of the impact he had had on the town he loved so much. I mourned for, and with, Todd, Lesley, Tim, and all who had been touched by him.

And I found myself transported back to a cold, windswept, Tennessee mountain top baseball field of long ago where a scared, lonely, struggling freshman baseball player was about to get the break of a lifetime….

With Utmost Respect,
Kes
kesley45@aol.com