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I can remember the day I met Mr. Jack Rhoads with decided clarity, because it was also my first day at work at The Katy Times.
After showing me around the three-room expanse of the old Katy Times office, then-Managing Editor Dave Mundy suggested I go down to the KISD Athletic Building to meet Mr. Rhoads and introduce myself.
Dave punched up the athletic office on the phone, and I heard the following end of the conversation.
"Coach Rhoads? Mundy."
"Got a new sports editor, sending him down to meet you. Try and go easy on him."
Dave looked up at me and said, "Good luck." then looked away.
I drove that mile over to the athletic office sweating bullets, which isn't hard to do in a VW Bug in mid-July.
I thought I was going to meet some crotchety ogre who would grill me about policy and procedure, heck, maybe even give me a spelling test on the spot.
Dave, as he would many times over the next three years, was playing quite a little joke on me.
Mr. Rhoads greeted me with a big handshake and a bigger smile, welcoming me to Katy and taking his time to ask me first about my family, then about my education and only when he felt he knew me personally did he begin to talk about sports and about Katy.
And talk he did, rattling off coaches' names and famous alumni of the district from all three schools.
He told me a little about each school's history, including mentioning that Taylor had a tennis dynasty in the making, and that Katy's offensive line was going to give a lot of people problems in the fall.
From that August until the day he retired, I saw Mr. Rhoads 2-3 times a week during the school year, and every once in a while at our office.
He seemed happiest when he was at Rhodes Stadium, watching his original love, football, being played by Mayde Creek, Taylor, and his alma mater, the Katy Tigers.
As sports editor, my normal week in the fall is two volleyball matches and two or three football games.
Whenever I would run into Mr. Rhoads at one of the schools or at the stadium he always amazed me by telling me about all the freshman, sophomore and junior varsity games that he had seen in addition to the varsity events.
The man just loved watching kids play sports.
He loved to watch them learn.
And grow.
And succeed. In his many years in KISD, district titles and playoff appearances piled up for Mr. Rhoads' teams. But a state championship was elusive.
The Katy football team had won the 1959 state championship, two years after he had graduated from Katy High. In 1994, Katy pummeled perennial juggernaut Converse Judson in the state semifinals, but was defeated 28-7 in the finals.
Just three years later, the Tigers were back in the state title game, facing an undefeated Longivew squad that boasted all-state stars at running and defensive back.
I vividly remember walking over to say hi to Mr. Rhoads and Bill Bundy during a third-quarter time-out on the Astrodome press level. The game was still pretty tight in the second half -- an actual "closer than the score made it look" type.
I shook both men's hands and got the basics on the potential post-game party at Rhodes Stadium when Katy scoerd to push the lead to 17-3.
I was in the process of shaking Mr. Rhoads' hand goodbye when his grip tightened on mine.
Almost to himself he whispered, "We've got'em now."
So many voices in so few words -- I never really thought about that until last week.
Here was a man who had been a Katy resident for 55 years finally seeing his team on the brink of a title and all that went with it.
In three words, he was at once a football player sensing his opponent's will breaking, a coach sensing victory within reach and a beaming father figure to so many young men and women finally seeing his old favorite boldly stride forth atop that highest mountain.
In 1998, his last semester on the job was one of mixed emotions.
Taylor repeated as state tennis champions with a remarkable undefeated sprint through season.
The Tiger gridders found trouble twice, and both times allowed me the chance to observe Mr. Rhoads at his best.
The first time was in Austin when Katy appealed to the UIL executive committee to overturn a rather harsh district decision mandating the forfeiture of four games.
I remember sitting in a chair waiting for the hearing to start when the doors opened and in walked a veritable KISD-style posse of Rhoads, KHS Principal Robert Blankenship, KISD Superintendent Leonard Merrell and Tiger coach Mike Johnston.
As hopeless as the situation seemed at the time, I remember thinking, "Boy, the UIL is in trouble."
The second incident came with the state title game a day away. We had planned extensive coverage of the Tigers' trip to Irving for the clash with Midland Lee and part of it was a feature on Mr. Rhoads' retirement coinciding with the game.
When I went to interview him that week, Mr. Rhoads had deftly deflected each and every question regarding his personal talent, always insisting that a great support staff and the students were just making him look good.
The game never happened, and when Dave, publisher Ken Steger and I went to the press conference that gloomy morning at the administration building, you never would have known it was Mr. Rhoads' final day.
It may have been the first time I saw him when he did not have a quick smile for me and everyone else in the room.
But at the same time, he personified strength,comforting the coaches, the staff and the shocked parents.
When the media blitzed, he faded back, letting Merrell and Johnston handle the cameras and microphones, instead finding more hands to shake and hearts to soothe.
On Sunday at First Baptist Church in Katy, some 500 people came to remember all that Jack Rhoads had stood for.
One hundred such churches could never hold the number of kids whose lives he touched.
