A few weeks
ago I received a text from a friend telling me some very sad news. It was right before my classes started and I
looked to down to read the message. It
stopped me in my tracks and some tears started forming in tired eyes. The bell was about to ring, so I put my phone in the bag and headed down to
class ready to channel the energy entering the room. Concert season is upon us
and when you’re a music teacher (Technically a music minor with a teaching
degree…) you have to make use of every second you get with kids. We
sang Christmas songs in preparation for our big night and despite the joy
coming from these young musicians, I could not get the text and nor its message
out of my mind.
As
the day went on, my phone continued to buzz with text messages from people
sharing this news. It was being shared
on Twitter, and Facebook, and the newspaper websites with a variety of emojis
depending on how you felt about the news.
As I watched this story make its way through the social media realm, it
continued to bother me immensely--both as a coaching spouse and as someone who
greatly admired this guy. I spent my
lunch hour combing through Twitter and responding to folks who were as shocked
and saddened as I was by the news that had resonated from the Barnett Center
this morning….There was going to be a new football coach at Northern.
Tate
first met Coach Tom Dosch his senior year sometime in February 2011. He and his dad took a trip up to campus and
were invited to meet with Coach Dosch about a chance to walk on with Wolves
Football. He was not heavily recruited,
but Coach Dosch had invited him up to campus and Tate was interested in seeing
what he had to say. He had already
planned on going to NSU to study banking and was starting to look at
scholarship opportunities and all the things that go with enrolling in college,
so this was a perfect chance to line some of these things up for the coming
fall. I look back now and just shake my
head. We were clueless about many of the
processes and things that needed to be done.
They
returned home and I asked how things went.
Both of my guys said it went fine.
They had offered him a chance to come walk on and join the Wolves and he
was going to do so. Tate told me he
liked Coach Dosch and that he was very friendly and had a really deep
voice. I was getting no information and
it was driving me crazy. I asked Mark
how it went and he said, “Fine. If he wants to try to play, they will let
him. It’s up to him.” So much for a delightful, detailed
description of their day on campus. Both
of them had practice that afternoon, so the trip was quick. They had no time for my questions or my
concerns. #BoyMomReality
During
March Madness, the Chargers were fortunate enough to earn a berth in the State
B Tournament held in Aberdeen at the beautiful Barnett Center. Tate’s team went on to knock off the
undefeated, top-seeded team in the opening round. This will always be one of my favorite games
and memories of Tate’s short life. I
still remember sitting there watching all of this unfold and how excited we
were. (Conversely, I do NOT remember a
lot of the rest of the evening/early morning though for if there is one thing
we Charger fans enjoy, it is a state tournament in Aberdeen or Huron. J )
While we were heading down to the court level, giddy with excitement
about our huge win, I looked over saw Mark ahead of me talking to a gentleman
wearing an NSU polo. When I caught up to Mark, I asked him who the gentleman
was he had been talking to and he told me it was Coach Dosch. My first official TD sighting…
The
“six degrees of separation” thing is so very true in the Midwest. You start visiting with someone and they know
someone that you know, or they work with someone you know, or your cousin lives
right next door to them, and instantly you have this connection. Well it was no different with Coach Dosch for
Tate. His best friend’s mom was Coach Dosch’s sister’s best friend
growing up in Strasburg, ND—birthplace of Lawrence Welk, home to the Blue Room,
and a beautiful Catholic church to name a few things the strong German
community boasts. She knew both Coach
Dosch and his family very well like so many of us do in small towns. When Tina
spoke of Coach Dosch she referred to him as “Tommy” just like she had growing up. This used to send Tate over the top—a combination
of laughter and exasperation. He once told me there would never be a day
that he would look at that guy and think his name was “Tommy”. Then he’d start laughing—that beautiful
giggle and smile, shaking his head while he imagined himself ever calling him
anything but Coach. Tate usually had a strong sense of respecting
authority—not all the time because no kid is perfect—but even then, before
really getting to know Coach Dosch, he respected both his position and his
presence.
The
fall camp reporting date came and the Explorer left early one August
morning. I remember everything about
that morning. We did not go up to campus
right away because they were not actually moving into their assigned
housing. We were coming up later the
next week, and bringing the bigger items to help him move in. Like
most college freshman, I think he was shocked at the amount of time,
physicality, and effort this was going to take.
But whenever we heard from him, which was not often, (#BoyMomReality) he
spoke highly of Coach Dosch and the staff.
He was meeting amazing new friends, learning a new position, and totally
immersed in football—something he loved. I figured he would love the meetings
because from the time he was little boy,
Tate always was drawing up plays on paper and loved scouting game tape
of any kind with his dad. He might have
left with becoming a banker in mind, but I knew eventually he was going to
coach.
Tate
made his way home one Monday afternoon so he could see his little brother play
in a football jamboree. He had not been
home yet so we were all very excited to have him home if only for 8 hours. Coincidentally, earlier that week Tate had
contacted me that he had been randomly audited in some NCAA D2 program and
Coach Dosch had told him it was not big deal, he just had to prove where some
of his local scholarship monies had come from. I was up early that morning hoping to make
him a decent breakfast before he headed back to campus for class. I wanted to make sure I had the correct
information so I emailed Coach Dosch asking him a few questions. I had to leave for school soon, but like all
organized guys, he had immediately answered my questions and assured me we were
on the right path to getting the documents he needed. I went over to the couch where Tate was
waking up and relayed the message to him that everything he needed was in the
folder on the table. I assured him it
was the right stuff because I had emailed Coach Dosch. He groaned and I will never forget his
comment, “Please tell me you didn’t
email Coach Dosch,” he said. I told him I did and that Coach Dosch had already
emailed me back. ( I was so proud to be on top of this issue all before 7:15
am.) Tate responded, “Really? Moms do not email D2 football coaches.” Oops…I
had broken some cardinal rule of D2 parent communications I guess. (And as soon as he drove off, I logged right
back on and told Coach Dosch about the entire conversation! And I have continued to email him since that
day…sorry Tate. )
Tate
survived his redshirt season and seemed to be enjoying it. Winter conditioning was another tough hurdle,
but again, we heard very little complaining from him when he called. I’m not saying he wasn’t grumbling about the
early mornings and the workouts, but his roommates took the brunt of that. We heard about the people and the
teammates. Most of his conversations
were about Coach Dosch and the rest of the staff—Coach Mistro, Coach Shafer,
Coach Flyger, Coach Hoskins, Coach Holinka, Coach Tupo.
All guys he respected and admired.
As
a Wolves football family we had the opportunity to meet these coaches and their
families and these people were some of the best folks we’ve crossed paths with
in our years following athletics. If you
aren’t a coach, you may not have any idea how involved and invested these
coaching families are in the process of building a team. You live the season—the wins, the losses, the
recruiting miles, the early practices, the holidays that really aren’t yours
because there is probably a game to prepare for—all of it. The wives (or husbands) keep things rolling
at home while their coach/spouse manage the team. Your kids share their dad/mom with an entire
community/region. This life can be
brutal. And these folks were some of the
first folks I thought of after receiving that text a few weeks ago.
Coach
Dosch gave the eulogy at Tate’s funeral Mass.
While it meant the world to us, I think it also showed his immense
leadership skills and love for his players.
They needed to hear from him that they would get through this. He was leading his team through adversity for
which there was no scout plan. In the
middle of our family’s greatest tragedy, he masterfully shared the good he had
seen in Tate. He got up in a packed
gymnasium full of people and spoke eloquently about our dear boy. And we needed
to hear those things. In our grief, we were clinging to his words. Tate would have been so incredibly proud to
hear him speak about his character and abilities. While I treasure those words, I treasure even
more the fact that he had had the opportunity to be led by such a good
person. Coach Dosch is a great leader
and a man oozing of integrity and kindness. He has spent his career molding and
developing young men into productive, solid citizens. And sadly, none of this matters.
I
am not in any positon to hire or fire any coaches at my dear alma mater. What I believe was a really poor decision for
Wolves Football doesn’t matter to anyone making those decisions and I get that.
It’s not my job. But I do question that so often these
decisions are made by someone who has never coached a down, or recruited an
athlete, or walked a team through a difficult season or situation. I’m guessing those who made this decision,
didn’t make it lightly, but I still think it was wrong. All of
these folks involved with Wolves Football have been on my mind constantly since
that midmorning text a few weeks ago. I keep thinking of how difficult it must
be to read on social media that you are being replaced. Or to see people “liking” these tweets or
comments? That is a tall order to ask of
anyone no matter how much integrity they carry.
I
wish the Wolves coaching staff the best of luck as they navigate this difficult
time in their career. I pray their
families know so many are keeping them close because, they too, are on this
journey. Our family is so blessed to
have crossed paths with you Dosch family.
You mean a whole lot to a whole lot of people…you won the division in
our books. Thank you for everything you
have done for our family in the past six years.
There aren’t enough words to adequately thank you…but I tried.
