From time to time in this column, I've alluded to a high school coach I once had by the name of Carl Stegall. He died on March 12, 2007 at the Hospice House in Anderson, SC.

Coach Stegall came to Lexington with a former neighbor of mine, Bob Whitehead, to take over the basketball fortunes at Lexington High School. Stegall had been a successful coach in the upper state, but his peers immediately questioned him: "Why Lexington? All they know is football and baseball!" Stegall's response was simple, "If they have great football players, then they are bound to have great basketball players too. A great athlete is a great athlete."

Stegall and Whitehead helped Lexington turn their round ball fortunes around, but it was not easy. But then, nothing ever came easy for the lanky Newberry College graduate.

Carl Stegall grew up in the Anderson County "backwoods" as it was known in those days. There were only a dozen boys at Anderson's Melton High School, located between Pendleton and Slabtown. Stegall got five of his buddies together and approached the school about forming a basketball team.

They laughed at him. "You barely have enough kids to fill a roster," they said.

"We have six," said Stegall. "All we need is five to field a team." They chuckled, "What about fouls?" His response, "We can't afford to have many."

Those six brave youngsters, led by the lanky Stegall, clawed their way to the State Championship in their first year.

The remarkable accomplishment didn't go unnoticed. Newberry College learned of Stegall's talents and recruited him to play ball. He went on to star for the "Indians" in the late forties and early fifties. In 1950, he was named to the South Carolina All-State basketball team.

After college, Stegall followed his passion for sports and teaching. He became a teacher, coach and athletic director in Greenville, Columbia, Lexington and Anderson schools, a career that spanned over some 39 years.

He was the co-founder of the South Carolina State Basketball Coaches Association and was an inductee into the Brooklyn-Cayce High School Basketball Hall of Fame. He was also installed into the Newberry College Hall of Fame.

Carl Stegall touched many people's lives over the years. All you have to do is look at me and you know I never played basketball for him. I'm about as wide as I am tall, but what I lack in height I make up for with slowness, which accounts for the reason why I never made it past the intramural level of basketball at Lexington, i.e. I'm short but I'm slow.

Stegall coached me in track and in football. No, I was not a sprinter on the track team. Coach J.W. Ingram used to accuse me of running in one place too long. Stegall did use me as a shot put and discuss guy on the track team. He also coached the "B" football team, which is where I encountered him.

I recall it was a nice May afternoon when Coach Stegall came to the door of Jim Shirley's algebra class to ask if he could speak to me. Mr. Shirley and I had an understanding. If I did not snore too loud, he would not toss me out on my heels. He knew I would never be a NASA rocket scientist, but he also knew I needed algebra to graduate. So we cut a deal.

Satisfied that I had already napped long enough and anxious to put a stop to my snoring, Mr. Shirley readily agreed to allow me a "leave of absence" from his class. In the hall, Coach Stegall asked if I wanted to be a kicker. "Kick what?" I asked incredulously. "A football!"

Are you kidding me? I had trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time. But I gave it a go, and not only did it get me out of Coach Charge Driggers dreaded "head-on exercises," but it also allowed me to have what little notoriety I would enjoy in my otherwise mediocre athletic career. In fact, it earned me a Shrine Bowl nomination during my senior year, though a broken leg put a stop to my athletic career.

"You have to see the ball through the goal post," explained Stegall. "Envision success. Hold your arms out in front of you and create an imaginary goal post. When you approach the ball, keep your head down, kick the ball squarely, and follow through by bringing your kicking leg straight through the imaginary goal post. After you kick the ball, reach down and grab a blade of grass. The crowd will let you know if the ball went through the uprights."

Interesting philosophy… "Keep your head down and follow through." Funny how that works in real life too. He was right about the crowd. They do let you know!