By Kyle Roberts
Dynastic coaches reach a point where the talk turns from their own accomplishments and into their “coaching tree,” an apt illustration to describe those who learned from the master and now lead their own teams or programs.
Common names when you hear “coaching tree” are Bill Belichick, Nick Saban, Bill Parcells, and Pat Riley, to name a few.
For many of us in North Louisiana, Jack Thigpen is that coach, and those of us who were privileged to be coached by him are now his legacy.
If you were in his orbit at any point in his coaching career, you recognize the last impact he’s had on you. For me, it started my sophomore year of high school at Ruston High.
If you know me now, you’ll be shocked to hear that I was a quiet, shy, weird kid with a love of sports and zero athleticism whatsoever. In fact, I was in a “unique” physical education class with just two other students, one of whom would go on to actually make the freshman basketball team. It was in this PE class that I could read, study, go to the library, or do what I really wanted to do: shoot hoops by myself, uninterrupted.
Coincidentally, Coach Thigpen (he’ll always be “Coach” to me) would be coming down to his office behind the bleachers near the end of the PE class. He’d walk the same path in the upper stands of the RHS main gym and then down the steps. And I told myself that if he could just see me drain enough open threes, maybe he’d ask me to join the team.
Brick. Brick. Swish. Brick. Air ball. Accidental bank shot. Brick.
Day after day that year, I quietly shot the ball. And then, finally Coach came down and introduced himself to me.
I remember the butterflies. This is it — you have your shot. I quietly shook his hand and told him my name.
“Kyle,” he said in his oh-so-familiar voice to many of us. “I see you really like basketball. I really need you on the team next year.”
Cue to me giddily nodding.
“I have a manager spot open for you, if you’d like it. I think you’d be great at it.”
What remains funny to me all these years later is that I remember not even being disappointed — Coach’s genuineness and warmth made me feel welcome immediately. I enthusiastically agreed and served as his manager for two years at Ruston High.
Good people always seem to come into your life just when you need them. Coach may not know this, but he helped instill a confidence into me that helped me with my junior and senior year at Ruston High. For that, I’m forever grateful.
The best part is that our friendship did not end after I graduated high school. He helped me get a scholarship at Louisiana Tech to be a manager for a season for the Dunkin’ Dogs. Anytime I see him around town, I’ll hear the signature “There he is!” from Coach.
As my career in sports broadcast was just beginning, I was privileged to fill in for Dave Nitz for nearly a decade anytime there was a conflict with football. And right there beside me, making sure I felt as little anxiety as possible, was Coach. That same presence has helped me in my adult life.
A lot of us have been blessed by Coach. LPJ co-publisher, Malcolm Butler, too served as a manager (you can see Malcolm’s mug in the state championship photo from the late 80’s). My Bearcat broadcast partner Nick Brown and I served together when he was an assistant coach during my managing tenure. Countless former coaches, players and managers are better because we have been in his orbit.
To this day, I get a Christmas text every year from him. It’s something I do not no take for granted. Knowing how many people must get that same text — I assume Ms. Ann has to tell him to put his phone up.
Coach, thank you for everything. I know I speak on behalf of a lot of others when I say we’re grateful for your lasting impact.
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