Monday, February 5, 2024
I knew Mr. D. for most of my life, probably about 40 years – first from my dad’s rec softball league, then as a student and athlete in high school, and finally from the occasional times I accompanied my parents to church later in life. I learned so much from Mr. D. – I will miss him dearly.
He taught me the value of practice. Mr. D. was an incredible coach that believed in repetition and the fundamentals – and we practiced HARD. Today’s NFL players would bristle at the volume and ferocity of our live tackling drills. At the same time, he taught me that football (and all competition) was more mental than physical. He’d pass out weekly printouts of our opponent’s formations to put us in the right place at the right time. I studied them intensely, and was pretty good at audibling to the right defense, but I still needed help from Mr. D. One time just before a snap, he yelled from the sidelines – “Barry! Hit the tight end!” I nodded, and did so – sure enough, it threw off their timing, and Matt Petrillo picked off the pass intended for that tight end. It was perfect. Mr. D. also taught me about motivation. He would do whatever it took to get the most out of his players – for the team’s sake, but also for their own. And sometimes that meant delivering a message of criticism. It might sting, but you knew he was right, and you knew he had a pure heart in delivering that message. He would often do it with humor (my gosh was he funny!) to soften the blow. He had an almost Bill Parcells-like approach, adapting his message and delivery to fit the one on the receiving end. He taught me that you could be tough as nails, and still be gentle and caring.
Mr. D. played a huge part in making me the man I became. I had the good fortune of being able to tell him that personally about 7 years ago when I ran into him with my parents at church. He reacted just as you would expect – he smiled and thanked me, but you could tell that due to his humility, he was embarrassed by the attention.
My God bless your family and may you Rest in Peace, Mr. D., knowing that the lessons you taught live on in thousands of your players, students, and peers.
