Next winter something will take place at my old high school that has never happened in its history. When football season (aka fall) ends and the mats begin to be laid down for wrestling season (aka winter) something will happen at Tecumseh High School that has never happened before. A man with the last name Connors will not be coaching the team.

The word coach is more than a mere title or statement of profession. It is a term of endearment bestowed upon select individuals dedicated enough to take relative strangers under their wings and treat them as their own. Having been heavily involved in sports for my entire life, I have had many coaches, but there has only ever been one “Coach.”

My former high school wrestling coach’s name is Tim Connors, and to even type his name without his proper title feels like blasphemy. He took the reigns of the program in 1997, after his father Pat, who had started the team decades ago, retired. I realize most of you couldn’t care less about what’s happening in Tecumseh, but with the platform this position provides I feel obligated to speak up to anyone who will listen for a man who would never hesitate to do the same for me.

Coach has been the object of much scrutiny over the past two seasons. One of the major accusations was of favoritism toward his two sons, one of whom was fourth in the state as a senior in 2007, and neither of whom would ever need preferential treatment. As is almost always the case in parent versus coaches scuttlebutt, most of the finger-pointing came from accusers who felt their children were being unfairly snubbed. After it was determined that accusations of stat doctoring and record skewing were completely unfounded, Coach remained at the helm this season. But the naysayers kept at him, until he was finally forced out.

It’s hard to believe that any parent would be against Coach in consideration of his resume. Tecumseh has grown into a state powerhouse under his tutelage, producing 19 all-state wrestlers - including two champions in 2005 - and many other individual state qualifiers. His teams have finished in the top eight in the state five out of the past six years and have broken the school record for wins in a season six times over.

To merely speak of wins and losses would cheapen what the man has meant to so many.What most people don’t see is the man who would work until 6 a.m. and open the school for 9 a.m. practice over Christmas break. Only those lying in the hospital beds heard his team sing carols at the local hospital, and only a select few benefited from him having his teams coach a youth wrestling program in the off-season. These are the intangibles that accusers tend to leave out.

As staunch of a disciplinarian as Coach was, it was not after a loss or poor performance that we dreaded his practices. It was when a swear word slipped out at practice. Because the wrestling room doubled as a daycare for anyone who wanted their kids to learn the sport, he made it clear that he expected role models to step into it. Anyone who couldn’t grasp that responsibility was kindly showed to the door.

Some say that a man’s character can be measured by his handshake, in which case don’t look to his former wrestlers to speak of Coach’s, because we can’t come near him and be greeted with anything less than a high-five or hug. Further investigation would no doubt reveal that Coach did in fact always favor his sons over everyone else. What many fail to realize is that everyone who ever stepped on that mat was considered exactly that.