The Gleam in His Eyes

Johnny, the Carter boy's names are synonyous with Mustang sports, especially football. What a great team you were on, probably the best in Mustang history (1966). Tommy Portis has related many of the tales of when you boys played for Coach. I got to see the Camden game that year, driving all the way from Indianapolis.

I remember well those days I helped Coach Bouldin get the junior high boys ready for their season before returning to UT. Coach Ewell Bouldin did a great job getting future high schoolers ready for the tough road ahead.

Coach Ward indeed had many facial expressions. I enjoyed that, as you say, gleam in his eyes many times even after returning to Huntingdon to practice medicine. I would often stand with him at Mustang games after he retired and we would analyze the other teams and the current Mustangs. Wallace, Moose, and I often took him out to eat or grilled steaks and did nothing but talk Mustang football for hours. He seemed to get tremendous pleasure out of this, as we did too. Great, great times spending those days with a man that we all loved and respected so very much.

You will also remember that "sneer" that he could put on his face when he was displeased with you. I had screwed up about two plays in a row one day at practice and he came over to me and said (with that sneer on his face), "Portis, if you can't play quarterback lets see if you can play a little defense". So, Johnny Pitts came in at quarterback (excellent ball handling skills, but as I tease him today, just a mite slow) and I was relegated to the second team defense at linebacker. This made me very mad and I was determined that the next back through that line was going to pay a heavy price (Pitts, Moose, Pinkley, Barger......it did not matter). Pinkley got the call and came over weak side guard through a Mack truck size hole; I had him lined up in my sites with the "bullseye" on his belt, as I bore in for the kill, Pinkley gave me that famous hip of his and I grabbed nothing but air, falling to the ground in a heap. Coach came over and looked down at me again with that famous sneer and said, "don't look like you can play defense either".

Johnny, you remember from your email, Mr. Pudor still was very visible on the practice field and at games adding valuable information to Coach Ward. I think he was his #1 scout for many years. The two of them worked very close together. I think I feared Mr. Pudor about as much as I did Paul Ward. Bruceton always played Huntingdon tough; you can vouch for that. The talent differential did not matter. The three years that I got to play against Bruceton the scores were 7-6, 14-0, 14-0. Thirty five of the toughest points I can remember. My senior year we had a much stronger team than Bruceton-depth, superior position players, and the game was in Huntingdon. Well at the half time the score was 0-0. We were not over confident and were playing hard but those guys were "sky high". On the very last play before the half, I was running the ball and two Bruceton defenders drove me over that wire that stretched between the light poles all the way over to the concrete bleachers in front of the press box. I got up and had to stand there a minute to remember which way to the dressing room. During half time Mr. Pudor, who had been in the press box, came over to me and said,"Scotty, why don't you run 18 keeper in the second half; I think it will go". He must have seen something from his position above the field. When we got the ball in the second half, I told Wallace to call 18 keeper. The blocking was superb, Buster Barger, Levoy Brown, Big Brown, all laid waste to the left side of the Bruceton line, Wallace got a good down field block after a fake to him, and Moose made the last clearing block wiping out their safety. Moose scored a late touchdown and we won 14-0. After the game Mr. Pudor came in the dressing room and walked into the shower, water running, with me standing their, buck naked, pointed his finger at me and said,"what did I tell you". I remember the water hitting his pants legs but he did not seem to care. More great memories of another man who helped guide us.
My hat was always off to Bruceton as those boys came with their "A" game year-after-year (the Williams twins, Bobby Lowe, Billy Darden (who is still a great friend of mine today-he could punt the football a mile-high and long), Billy Butler, Vernon Spencer (we both dated the same girl from Huntingdon-Alice, I won't tell the bloggers your name). Great competition from them.

Johnny, I remember the "old timer's game ", you guys played in McKenzie and the pounding you all gave them. I am sure that the old plays all came back. I have enjoyed hearing the old numbers: 32 and 33 belly, 48 and 47 belly, 18 and 17 keeper-wow, what memories. Wallace made up a play one day in practice that we called, "Portis to Pinkley to Portis", that we used to great success against Paris our senior year. I handed the ball off to him over the tackle hole after faking to Moose, if there was a good block on the linebacker and Wallace got outside when he approached the halfback and safety he turned and pitched the ball to me as I trailed the play. After doing this several times the Paris backs got wise and played me so Pinkley just keeps the ball and cuts down the center of the field for a long gain (Mustangs 41-Blue Devils 7).

So sorry that I get carried away so but these blogs bring back a flood of memories like it was yesterday. Coach Ward would love to be here still to share all of this with us. I am sure that he is looking down from heaven with his old players that are there with him getting a big kick out of these ramblings. He is just waiting on all of us to join him someday. Who knows there still might be another game with Bruceton yet.
Johnny Carter, so good to hear from you. Tell Joe Morris hello for me. I still see your dad often and always go up to him and ask how the boys are doing. He always gives me a big grin and procedes to give me the low down.

We hope soon there will be a "Coach Paul Ward" scholarship to preserve the memory of a man who ment so much to so many people.
Scotty Portis (Mustang 1955-58)

Scotty,
You have done great job communicating with everyone. I have spent so much time enjoying reading all the stories that I have not sent anything myself. By the way, I remember you helping "coach" us after you had gone to college -- you did a good job with some future Mustangs and I always appreciated that. We all were very fortunate to grow up in Huntingdon and be part of something that had the support of the entire community.

Anyway, here are some of the things I remember:
Coach Ward had a talent for understanding an individual and getting the most from each of us. As tough as he was, I was never afraid that I would not be treated fairly and somehow benefit from whatever he was teaching ... football, basketball, swimming, baseball, etc. Over the years, it was always a pleasure to see him again and to see the gleam in his eyes that we had all seen when he would laugh.

My Dad (John David Carter) had told me that when he first worked in Huntingdon and still lived in McLemoresville he would be driving home from work and pick Coach Ward up and take him home. Coach Ward was in high school at that time and would be walking home (about five miles) from football practice.

Mr. Tate once told us that Mr. Pudor was gone during the war and he was appointed the football coach for a period of time. He said the only reason he was asked to do this was because the team needed someone on the sidelines on Friday night. He said he would go out to the practice field during the week and tell the boys "ya'll have a good practice" and then he would go home.
During my sophomore year we had a "walkie talkie" (it looked like the big black ones in the war movies) on the sidelines during a few football games. For some reason, I was chosen to be in charge of communications between Mr. Pudor in the press box, with the other walkie talkie, and Coach Ward on the sidelines. Mr. Pudor would see something and it was my job to chase Coach Ward up and down the sidelines and inform him -- for some reason, I got the feeling that he did not want to be bothered during a game. I must have been right because the walkie talkie did not make it through the season!

When I was in college at Memphis State, Roy Gene Dill called me (and my brother Joe Morris Carter, Co-Captain 1965) and said that McKenzie had challenged Huntingdon to an "Old Timer's Game" of football during Thanksgiving week-end. The only stipulations were that Bobby Hayes and Tim Priest could not play. Coach Ward did not want to loan us equipment and I fully understood why he would'nt. We went to McKenzie on Friday after Thanksgiving and borrowed equipment from them. We never practiced or went over any plays prior to the game. They had referees, charged admission, and had a pretty good crowd on hand. We huddled up, a play was called, and I don't remember anyone not knowing what to do (this was a range of players that had graduated over several years) -- we had all run these plays so many times it was just normal. Huntingdon won 38 to nothing and even though Coach could not loan us the equipment, I guarantee that the gleam was in his eyes when he heard the score!

Thanks again for pulling this together,
Johnny Carter (1966)

"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

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