"Smelling Sauce"

From: tom portis
Sent: Saturday, December 15, 2007 12:30 AM
To:
Subject: FW: Coach Ward

There have been some great stories of Coach Ward that I have truly enjoyed reading. The ones from some of the older guys about his early coaching days are notable because there were things that I had not known about him. It brings back memories of a great time growing up in Huntingdon and the lessons learned living in a small town and playing football for Paul Ward.

Someone mentioned that he and Johnny Compton are together again probably reminiscing about those days, when I am sure, Coach Ward was challenged having to deal with Johnny.

Ned Priest and others remind me of two stories relating to Compton and the influence on his life by Coach Ward. If you will indulge my limited writing skills……………

For those of you who did not know him or play with him, Johnny Compton was a rough around the edges kind of guy, a tough, mean football player and sometimes just a callous and unkind person. I had not seen Johnny Compton probably since high school but learned that he was living in Southaven, MS just across the Mississippi line from Memphis and was going to church with a UT alumni I worked with at the Bank. I also learned Johnny had changed his life and had become a Christian. This was wonderful to hear and I had to remind myself that yes, God does move in mysterious ways. And yes it was true.

Tim Priest had just been selected to be the color analyst for the Vol Football network and was going to be in Memphis to speak to the Shelby County Big Orange Club. The guy I worked with and I had plans to attend the meeting and he asked if I cared if Johnny Compton joined us. Johnny wanted to see and hear Tim speak since they played together on that great 1966 Mustang team. I was delighted and yet apprehensive at the same time remembering Johnny’s past.

The day arrived and we all met at the Bank to ride over to the Big Orange Club meeting. Johnny Compton was truly a changed man. He was humble, polite and almost apologetic for his past. He expressed to me what an influence Coach Ward was on his life and the lessons in discipline he learned from football and Paul Ward. I thought that was a real tribute not only to Compton’s changed life but to Coach Ward as well. It was somewhat the same way Charles Rhodes related how Coach had influenced Ray Chandler’s life. I think he taught a lot of life lessons to us. Probably more than we really knew at the time.

A funny side to this story was when we arrived at the restaurant where the meeting was being held, I spotted Tim’s Mom who lived in Memphis at the time and went over to speak with her. As I finished, Johnny Compton stepped in front of Mrs. Priest and said, “Mrs. Priest, you probably don’t remember me but I am Johnny Compton”. The expression on Mrs. Priest’s face, as they say, was priceless. Probably not having seen Johnny since he and Tim graduated, she looked up at Compton almost in a state of disbelief and slowly extended her hand to shake his and I heard her utter these words, “My God, JOHNNY COMPTON? How could I ever forget you?”

One day in practice running the scout team offense, which I got to do a lot playing behind Tim, we huddled up and Coach Ward showed us a diagram of the next play we were to run. It was a slant pass to the split end on the right side and as I got under center, I took a look to see where Compton was and who was lined up opposite him - just for kicks I guess hoping someone might actually get a good block on him. I took the snap and dropped back. The next think I remember (or didn’t remember, someone related to me later) was Coach Ward laughing almost uncontrollably and trying to bring me around by putting smelling sauce under my nose after Compton had turned out my lights with a blind side hit. I am sure both Compton and Coach Ward enjoyed it. At least I was informed they did.

In spring practice of 1964 I tore an ACL and had to have surgery a few days later. Coach Ward could not be there the day of the surgery due to school responsibilities and football practice. My parents went home that night after the surgery and I remember waking up the next morning very early to find Coach Ward sitting in my hospital room. He had driven down very early on a Saturday morning just to check on me. We had a conversation which I am sure was limited on my part as I was a sophomore and still in awe of him. I think he cared for and respected his players for their efforts no matter what your job on the team was and he did it in his own quite un-expressive way. He was one of our Senior Class sponsors for the graduating class of 1966. It was an honor to have known him and played for him.

Tom Portis

---------------------

From: Tim Priest

To: 'tom portis'

Sent: Monday, December 17, 2007 7:49 AM

Subject: RE: Coach Ward

Tommy:

Thanks for the story. You are so right in describing the influence Coach Ward had on the life of Johnnie Compton and all of us. I certainly remember seeing you Johnnie, Johnny Carter and others the night I spoke in Memphis. We very much missed seeing Johnnie at our 40 year class reunion this summer.

Tim

"Comptonian Physics"

Ned, great story (and with a moral) for us all. I'll bet old Johnny and Coach are up there now looking down on us and discussing one of their great games. You and I have talked many times about your desire to have been a Mustang. Well you were. Junior high, senior high who cares, you wore the Blue and Gold and undefeated and with a paltry lone touchdown-what a season. I too wish you could have been here during your high school days. You would have been a great center and defensive end. If you played football like you catch fish, Huntingdon would have been better off.

Coach Ward loved his "hitters". I think we were so successful because we were first taught the fundamentals-blocking and tackling. At defense he was great but he shinned on the offensive side of the ball also. He was the best at taking the talent he had each year and molding the right offensive scheme around it-sometimes changing the offense mid season when the current plan was not working.

Also, least we forget Coach Welch. Coach Ward and Coach Welch were great alone but the two of them together were awesome. During pass defense practice one day when I thought I had been on the field and excessive amount of time (running down one fresh back or end after another), I asked Coach Welch, " What do you think I am, a race horse?". Well, when the combined practice was over at the end of the day and sprints had been run, Coach Welch called 5 or 6 backs over and he said "Race Horse Portis" line up out there at defensive halfback and we preceded to run pass defense for another 15 to 20 minutes. On the way to the dressing room he padded me on the butt and said "If I had a saddle, I'd ride you up the hill 'Race Horse'". I intercepted two pass the next game. He has never let me forget it either.

Ned, thanks again. Very strong story from a former Mustang who was almost coached by Coach Ward.

Scotty

PS: Ned if you can get me Coach McAdams email or phone #, I will be sure that we get him in on these "blogs". We here are all well aware of Glen's accomplishments. I'm sure he would appreciate hearing from us. Also, if anyone out there has Larry Stewart and Warren Blankenship's emails send them to me and I will include them. Blankenship was probably one of the best all round blockers and tacklers that Huntingdon ever produced. Also, does anyone know where Bendell "Freight Train" Wilkes is now. He graduated with Warren and was a heck of a defensive end.

From: Ned Priest

To: Scotty Portis
Subject: Re: Coach Ward
Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2007 21:42:43 -0600

I never played for Paul Ward. But I did play with Johnny Compton for three years on the Huntingdon Junior High School Mustang football team. For one glorious week, Big John, myself and several other invited junior high players (Joe Hall Morris, Jimmy Smith, Will Crellin, Thomas Ray Townsend, Tommy Portis and several others) practiced with the varsity, and therefore for Coach Ward, before the start of junior high practice. That's where I learned about "Comptonian Physics".

We were doing the two-man lineman tackling drill. You know - two linemen, lying on their backs, heads pointing toward each other about ten yards apart on either side of a hole defined by two blocking dummies, with the coach standing by the dummies with a ball. The coach calls "Hike" as he tosses the ball to one of the linemen. They have to roll over, charge toward the hole and one carries the ball while the other tackles.

As freshmen, we had been the recipients of some serious disrespect from the upperclassmen during the first part of the week. By about Wednesday, I had had enough, so I resolved to "sell out" every chance. Johnny and I were up, so here was my chance. Coach Ward (holding that clipboard!) tossed the ball to me. I got low and drove hard into the hole, meeting JC's shoulder pad level with mine. There was a terrific "Whack!" and Johnny stumbled backwards with me falling on him. Success!!! - and immediately a whoop went up from the upperclass linemen surrounding us.

Now it was Johnny's turn. I resolved not to be a "one hit wonder" and tigered up as I lay on the ground. Coach Ward tossed the ball to Big 'Un and Professor Compton began his lessons in "Comptonian Physics":

1. Leverage - That means when Johnny's pads were below yours, you ain't got a chance!!! He stood me straight up!

2. Force - Einstein discovered that Force=(Mass x Velocity)Squared. He forgot the "CMF" - that's "Compton Meanness Factor". The REAL formula, solved for F, is F=(MxV)2xCMF= me suddenly flying backwards through the air!

3. Gravity - That's where I crash down to earth on Pudor Field.

4. Astronomy - That's where I see stars for about 5 minutes!!

But the pain of those few seconds was quickly washed away by the roar of yelling upperclassmen - including the backs and Coach Euell Bolden, who had come over to check out all the noise. Coach Ward was clapping one hand against that clipboard and telling to the team that "These freshmen are showing you guys how to hit!" And two of my idols - Jackie Brown and Dale Strickland - were hollering, laughing and slapping me and Johnny on the helmet!

JC and I were transfixed by being noticed by Coach Ward and resolved to hit each other as hard as possible for the rest of the week. We were never paired again, but that event was the start of a wonderful year. The Junior High Mustangs were undefeated, untied and un-scored-on except for a meaningless TD by Paris at the end of a 28-7 should-have-been-worse rout.

My family moved to Memphis at Christmas of that year and I never saw Johnny Compton again. I considered attending a Mustang game but even thinking about it was so painful that I never went. It's one of the greatest and most enduring disappointments of my life that I never played high school football with my cousin Tim and for Paul Ward, but my shining memory of that day still brings a smile to my face.

By the way, Coach Ward's legacy lives on in Mustang alum Glen McAdams. Glen has coached the (Nashville) David Lipscomb High School football team for 26 years, winning several state championships in their class, the last about 2 weeks ago. His program has produced a number of Div IA players in the process. He also teaches his kids how to act right and insists that they do so. He's a good coach and a good man. Coach Ward would be proud.

Respectfully, Ned Priest, #54.

"The Wind Blows Might Nigh..."

From: Carl R. Holladay

To: 'Scott Portis' ; 'Bobby Ward' ; 'Ward, Paul - 08'

Cc:

Sent: Tuesday, December 11, 2007 7:40 AM

Subject: RE: Coach Ward

Scotty et al.

Thanks for the stories about Coach Ward. I, too, remember him fondly.

I can identify with the Ray Chandler stories. Once, during recess, while we were playing baseball, I made some snide remark about him, not realizing the danger of doing so while he was holding a baseball bat in his hands. A few seconds later I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I thought I’d never breathe again. Needless to say, I watched my words from then on.

One memory from football practice. Coach Ward was working with the linemen over on the far side of Pudor Field. It was one of those drills where the linemen broke up into two groups, one carried the ball, the other tackled, the action taking place between two blocking dummies Coach had placed to create the lane. No sooner had the ball been given to me than I realized that I was facing Warren Blankenship, with nowhere to go but straight ahead. I figured that my young life was over. At Coach’s signal, I forged ahead, but Warren had mercy on me. If you ever need an image to connect to the Scripture, “It’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” think of Warren. Needless to say, I was happy to see him graduate that year and move on to higher things.

For some reason, I remember Coach Ward’s clipboard. Never have I seen a clipboard put to so many good uses. Of course, it held his plays and other papers for practice. But I think I recall it being used to hammer lazy players on the helmet or bust them in the seat of the pants, and who knows what else? Others can correct me here if my memory is playing tricks on me.

Others are right in recalling how Coach Ward, Mr. Pudor, and others taught us discipline and teamwork. As for the latter, one lesson I still remember, and have recalled over the years, is how he taught us to kick-off. Walking up and down the field, he told each of us on the kicking team to look to the other end of the field and imagine a lane 5-10 yards wide that we were responsible for. “If everybody protects his lane and lets nothing through, they can’t run a kickoff back,” he’d say, or words to that effect. Over the years, I’ve sometimes reflected on that as a pretty good defensive strategy in other situations.

He was also a superb teacher. I still have vivid memories of how he taught us to block and tackle. He not only taught us, but he also showed us. He’d get down in position, with his calf muscles bulging, show us how to spring off the line, and actually block the other player without holding him. To this day, I still can’t believe they allow NFL linemen such free use of their hands. As for tackling, he insisted on putting your shoulder into the runner’s gut, reaching for his legs, clasping your hands, and putting him on his back. Football for him, at least in my brief experience, was a game of basics, and he taught them well.

Not that I ever mastered either of these, but Ricky Lankford, Buster Barger, and I seemed to have done something right as we held down the left side of the defensive line our senior year. We lost our first game (to Milan, I think). We used a single wing (I was playing right guard). The next week, Coach Ward switched us to a T (or split-T) formation, which we used the rest of the year. I was switched to defensive end, and I think we went undefeated that year. He drilled my assignment into me. I was to cross the line of scrimmage, take down the pulling guards, and turn the play in. If the QB kept the ball and turned in, he was mine (or Ricky’s). If he handed off, Buster as the outside linebacker would take care of the running back. I recall that a good bit of that year I spent lying on my back watching pulling guards and tail backs running over me.

One more story. There was the time, I think it was against Bruceton, but it may have been in practice, when we were lined up for a play, and one of the defensive linemen sounded off about how he was going to pulverize us, and without missing a beat, Guy Fowler was heard to exclaim, “The wind blows might nigh every night!”

I’m sure some of the details are fuzzy and have probably been created out of the fog of memory. Others are welcome to correct me.

Regards,

Carl

Carl R. Holladay

Charles Howard Candler Professsor of New Testament

Candler School of Theology

Emory University

Atlanta, GA 30322

Office: (404) 727-4017

Fax: (404) 727-2494

Mobile: (404) 754-8265

"Hey, Hay Seed!"

From: Scotty Portis
Sent: Thursday, December 06, 2007 4:57 PM
To: Bobby Ward; Ward, Paul - 08
Cc: Tom Portis; Tim Priest; Scott M. Portis; Ronnie&Nancy Rice; Ray Ivey; Paul Allen; Johnny Pitts; John Clement; Joe Smothers; Gloria Fortner; Fred Holladay; Duck Priest; Betty Ann Tanner; Buster Barger; Carl Holladay; Charlie Rhodes; Ned Priest
Subject: Fw: Coach Ward

Winston (Charles), great blog about your colon (glad it was ok). Every body needs a colonoscopy eventually. Also, I would encourage readers of this email to go to Winston's (his ailas) to read his side splitting humor of life at Huntingdon High School. Addresses below.

Great words also for our revered Coach. I knew Ray Chandler very well and was on the receiving end of at least one of his fights. The fight was so intense we rolled in the ditch (water included) down by the little store on Benton Street close to the old high school. I called him "Buffalo" and then preceded to pay the price. We became great friends on the football team during high school. I threw him a very important pass for a touchdown during the Paris game my senior year. The pass was not that good but Ray snaked his way through the entire Paris defense for one of the early TD's (final Mustangs 41-Paris 7). These were during Coach Wards days (years one and two after Larry Stewart) that the Huntingdon faithful thought that a successful season was not only winning every game but not letting the other team even score. Ray was an excellent football player as a blocker and pass catcher.

Coach Ward literally pulled Ray out of the scrap heap and made a solid citizen out of him. Poor Ray met an untimely death from the dreaded cancer (leukemia I think).

Phillip Barnett related a very funny story to me this morning at his gym concerning Johnny Compton. At Coach Ward's funeral someone remarked, "Poor Coach Ward, he will once more have to put up with ole Johnny Compton". I knew Johnny and have long heard of his antics on and off the football field. Tim Priest will enjoy this and probably remember this incident. Seems that the Mustangs had an open date mid season and Coach not wanting his well oiled machine to get rusty filled that date with a team from Nashville. When the team bus pulled up, one of the first players off the bus looked at Johnny and said "Hey, hay seed, we liked to have not found this hole". "We finally had to follow the 'cow shit' just to get here".

After the ensuing kick off Huntingdon had the ball and Compton looked up while still in the huddle to see the same guy who would be playing across from him in the line. Compton preceded to tell Tim that there was going to be a 5 yd. penalty for "off sides" on this first play. Tim said, "Johnny, how do you know"? Comp's reply "Tim, you just call the signals". Well, if the snap count was on 3 at 2 Compton jumped in that guys face and rearranged his nose with a tremendous forearm; I believe it may still be called a "forearm shiver". That set the tone and Huntingdon won the game something like 40 to 0. Tim, feel free to jump in and correct any of this as it is second hand and you were there. I remember Johnny as being a force on both sides of the ball (God rest his soul).

Thanks again to Charles (Wintson) Rhodes for his comments and to all of you who have participated and will continue to participate. These stories have done a lot to help a broken heart (mine) and hopefully for Little Paul (sorry Paul Jr. but that is how I know you), Bobby and Ms. Kay.

God Speed.

Scott Portis (Mustang 1955-1958)

A Helping Hand

From: Charlie Rhodes
Cc: Tim Priest; 'Marshall F. Priest MD, FACC' ; 'john pitts' ; 'Tom Portis' ; 'Scott M. Portis' ; 'Ronnie&Nancy Rice' ; 'Randy Clement' ;'John Clement' ; 'Joe Smothers' ; 'Gloria Fortner' ; 'Betty Ann Tanner' ; 'Fred Holladay' ; 'Gary Hall' ; 'Paul Allen' ; 'Ray Ivey' ; 'Wallace Pinkley'

Sent: Thursday, December 06, 2007 6:30 AM

Subject: Re: Coach Ward

My apologies for the delay in joining in the discussion here. I have been distracted for a few days with prepping for, having, and then blogging about, my first... and last ... colonoscopy. For the brave, curious, or perverted among you who have a few minutes to burn, you too can experience it at: http://www.nobodyasked.com/2007/12/01/colonoscopy/
For those who do not know, I write under a pseudonym, or chosen name, Winston Rand, in an attempt to retain some decency with the Rhodes family name.

Being a 98 pound weakling with allergies to everything, it was impossible for me to play football. But growing up in Huntingdon, I couldn't help but learn to love the game. That allure continues now, decades later, as an avid Vols and Titans fan. Playing in Mr. Tate's band helped me to grow into a 198 pound weakling who anchors the Lazy-Boy on Saturdays and Sundays, and works out by walking Neyland Stadium steps a few times each fall. While I had no close association with Coach Ward, I developed a deep and abiding respect of him ... at times it took on the trappings of fear ... from some of my closest friends. That group included Bill Rice (R.I.P.), Levoy Brown (anybody know where he is?), Jim Fortner, James David Woodard, Buddy Ezell, and others. So, while I have no real story to tell about Coach Ward, I will relate one strong and meaningful memory of him. Anyone who can fill in or correct the details, please do so.

There was a lad being raised in less than desirable circumstances. Some would call in squalor. In the cities, they would have been called "street people". I never knew what happened to his parents, but he had been taken in by his grandfather, who was known as Buffalo. Having no real family, and missing the building block foundations that the rest of us had as kids in family environments, the young man got into trouble frequently. He had learned to fight and would take on ... and whip ... any kid in town. To his credit, or perhaps by a combination of efforts by his grandfather and teachers, he did come to school most of the time. When he applied himself, he was not a bad student. Recess, whether picking a fight on the playground or sneaking smokes, was his strength. Motivation and discipline were not to be found among his strengths.

Whether in phys ed class, by casual observation on the playground, feedback from other teachers, I never knew. But Coach Ward took an interest in the young man. Coach became a surrogate father in many respects, even to the point of making sure the strapping young man had food and clothes. My memory is fuzzy here, but some of you may recall -- Coach Ward may have taken the young man in to live in his home the last year or so of his HHS career. This kid, who had nothing, was pulled out of a hopeless situation to become Co-Captain of the football Mustangs his Senior year, when he was also Senior class ('60) president. After college (Memphis State, I think) he became a contributing member of society and the community in Dyersburg, where he lived until his untimely early death from cancer at age 45. Without the firm but gentle, caring hand of Coach Ward, that young man would likely have spent his life like his grandfather -- rummaging through trash and doing odd jobs about town, when he was not a resident of City Jail. You might remember him. His close friends called him "Razor", for reasons long forgotten. His name was Ray Chandler.

Many of you have related stories of the stern discipline and hard work you learned from Coach Ward on the gridiron. There is no doubt he was a great teacher and coach who helped many boys develop into men. But when I think of Coach Ward, what stands out first and most is his generosity and caring as demonstrated by his nurturing of Ray Chandler.

Incidentally, Scotty mentioned my blog, and while I would not dare to bore you with it, there are a couple of stories that you might enjoy:

Mr. Tate: http://www.nobodyasked.com/2007/02/09/senior-math-mouth/

Firetower: http://www.nobodyasked.com/2007/01/25/journey-to-fear/

Charlie Rhodes