Picture from the locker room after the 1992 SEC Championship Game Courtesy of Ken Gidley, University of Alabama Athletics (Myron L. Pope, Former Vice President of Student Life, University of Alabama)

This morning, I recalled a situation that I experienced many years ago during my playing days at the University of Alabama. The memory stemmed from very valuable lessons that I learned about so many things to include responsibility, accountability, and verifiability.

Coach Gene Stallings was the coach during my last three years at UA, and I had a healthy amount of fear of him. That fear was not so much a fear because he was going to kill me, but that was possible. The fear was more so respect and reverence. Growing up in Marengo County, Alabama, we were taught to respect our elders and not question (be disrespectful of) authority. I spoke only when spoken to because that level of respect was what I was taught. It was who I was.

Along those same lines, I followed orders, and I made sure that I followed the rules that those in authority set. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, and I didn’t want to break any rules. I was not hard core perfect by any means, but I respected Coach Stallings and the rest of the coaching staff.

Around this time of the year, just before spring practice, we would engage in these “special morning” workouts. We would get dressed and be on the field a little before 6 am. We performed these exercises in the 80-yard indoor football facility. I note this because at that time, the facility was only big enough to accommodate an 80-yard field. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it had expanded to a full football field recently. Anyway, we would line up and start stretching with our guts in knots because we didn’t know what gruesome form of torture the coaches had in store for us each morning. One thing was certain was that the training staff was available in case anyone needed medical attention, and the huge 55-gallon trash cans were strategically around the indoor facility. I must highlight here that these were not available because we were trying to do our part to keep our beautifully pristine campus clean. They were available for unexpected revisits with your past night’s dinner. The workout experience was a grueling one with each of the position coaches being stationed at various corners of the facility to take you through a set of agilities before sending you to the next station. After stretching, we would move by position (Tight Ends, Linebackers, Offensive linemen, etc.) to each station with the coaches. We would run through cones/shuttle runs, do burpees, pushups, and other circuit workouts for about five minutes before moving on to the next station — typically about eight overall. It made for a very unwelcomed wakeup call on those mornings. We did these for a couple of weeks as part of the off-season conditioning program, but it was so much more than that. It built endurance, but it built trust. It caused us to focus on our teammates and to encourage one another. It made us not want to quit. As an alum of the infamous Bear Bryant Junction Boys’ experience, Coach Stallings understood the value of such early morning experiences. It was what made us so successful not only during the season, but through life. Even today, I remind myself that if I survived that experience, then I can survive anything. It goes without saying that no one missed these workouts because he valued this so much in our overall football programmatic efforts.

Well, one morning, I missed. As I mentioned, I revered Coach Stallings, and the last thing that I wanted to do was to let him or my teammates down. However, on that morning, my alarm clock did not go off. I was meticulous about setting my alarm clock far in advance of when I was supposed to get up because of my fear of missing the workouts. My roommate at the time was a former football player, and one of my fraternity brothers, Dan Webster. Dan had decided to give up football to go into body building, and he worked quite often at the local bars as a bouncer as he was quite the physical specimen. He was the nicest guy ever, but as you looked at his 20-inch biceps, you questioned whether you wanted to challenge him, even after a few too many drinks. Anyway, on the night in question, Dan came in after a long night of work at the bar and reset the alarm unbeknownst to me. It was a complete accident that almost changed my life in a most negative way.

That morning, I woke up at about 7:15. That was about the time that the team was leaving the field to the showers before heading to classes. I sprung out of the bed and double checked my watch, and I realized that the sun was out. They were all dire indications to me that I had missed the workout. I was mortified. I could have died right there because everything that I had worked for was gone because there was absolutely no excuse for missing those workouts. I sat on the side of my bed and literally cried. I finally got myself together, showered, and made it a point to get to the athletic facility to be in Coach Stallings’ office as soon as possible.

I think that this was worse than Judgement Day. I would have preferred to meet my Maker than have to have this conversation with Coach Stallings about my absence from that workout. Coach Stallings’ assistant, Linda Knowles, was such a motherly figure who was well suited for her job. She was a balance for sure with the gruff and very serious former Junction Boy who served as her boss. I ran in and immediately started telling my story to her, and even though she was patient and listened to my story, she knew that this babbling fool in front of her was in big trouble. She did her best to comfort me and offer me support while waiting for Coach. She was always so nice.

She got me in immediately, and I walked in and greeted Coach Stallings. Even though he was courteous, he had a scowl, which was not unusual for the gruff Texan. I sat down in a chair in front of his desk, and I felt like he was sitting on a throne, and I was sitting in the lowest valley which didn’t help my thinking about my situation. I don’t think I engaged in any pleasantries as I immediately went into apology mode. I was in hyperdrive as I tried to tell my story, but I noticed that the scowl did not let up. I may have shed some tears during the confession. I was asking for so much forgiveness that I may have confessed to the Kennedy assassination, the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, and whatever else came to mind. I just knew that I was DEAD!!!

He was very patient during my confessional, and after I finally told myself deep down inside to shut up, he just sat there. In what seemed like an eternity, as I could have sworn that the sun set and came back up several times before he finally asked, “Is that really what happened, son?” I started to say the dumbest things like, “I swear on my great grandmother’s grave.” and “If I am lying, I hope to lose an eye.” or something else that was said in complete anxiousness, nervousness, and stupidity. Whatever it was, as I look back on it now, I realize that I was not helping my situation by continuing to talk. When I finally stopped talking, he paused again for another week or two, as I felt like the chair sank lower and lower, and I just knew in my heart that he felt like I was lying and that I was doomed. Finally, he said, “You go down and see LeBaron and don’t ever let this happen again.” Coach LeBaron Caruthers was our strength and conditioning coach, and he was the one who ran the early morning torture…I mean workout sessions. I may have jumped out of the valley of despair that I sat in and probably considered hugging him, but common sense returned to me, and I just shook his hand and promised even more profusely that I was sorry and that it would never, ever, ever, ever happen again. I think he felt sorry for me, and himself, for having to put up with me. It was the greatest amount of grace that I had been granted in my life to that point, and I thanked God that it was not worse.

I went to see Coach Caruthers. I had to do some extra running, and if you know me, I hate running. However, I would have run all day and every day for the rest of my collegiate career just to make up for that situation. Coach Caruthers probably has never had a player smile so much during timed 400 meter, 70 second timed runs. I survived and lived to tell the story.

I learned much about accountability from my time in athletics. This story just added to the life skills learned through sports. The little lesson I learned was the importance of being accountable and communicating with Dan about making sure that we were on the same page in terms of the alarm clock, but it also made me realize that I needed to be accountable and go out and purchase my own alarm clock. I have carried that sense of accountability with me through the years, and even when I have not gotten things right, I have held myself accountable for my actions. It is the right thing to do. I learned early on that a man has to be accountable for his actions right or wrong, and when they are wrong, make amends immediately.

Also, it taught me verifiability. I remember the quote that Ronald Reagan made many years ago that I am paraphrasing, but “Trust, but verify.” I should have verified that situation with Dan because I knew our schedules had changed with his new job. Talking through these types of situations and expecting the unexpected is important. Never assume anything. This type of thinking ahead allows you to “see around the corner” so to speak. It allows you to not only to verify situations, but it also allows you to determine those things that you didn’t see coming.

Athletics taught me much, and certainly, I learned much from Coach Stallings. I admire his leadership, and I am honored to have been a part of his teams for three seasons. The life lessons continue to be of value to me and to my family and others that I engage with on this life’s journey. I am just glad that I lived through that morning to share with you.