There is an All-American who lives on our street. Actually, his house fronts on another street, but his carport and where he enters is on our street, so I’m claiming him - claiming him just like I’ve done, now, for almost 50 years. I believe he came here in 1954, and he must have been about 30 years old, because he’s now 83. I remember the first time I saw him. I thought he was mighty big and a little intimidating. Today, he doesn’t look so big, and he’s unfailingly kind and polite – anything but intimidating.
I talked to him last Saturday night, and he told me: “Larry, I’m not doing so good. I look better than I feel”. My retort: “I believe most of us feel better than we look, at least I hope so”. And, I do.
They inducted him into the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame last Saturday night - he and eight others.
They talked about his record and what he accomplished as a player and coach. But, they didn’t really get it right. They tried, and it was impressive, what they said about him, but, only his family and five of his players who were there, Stewart Bloodworth, Boot Hunt, Stanley St. John, Lee St. John, and me, knew that they didn’t do this All-American who lives on our street, justice.
Where it started “getting right” was when he responded. His first words: “I want to thank my Master . . .” and it went from there. He thanked his family members, including his wife, Barbara, and his children and grandchildren and the folks doing the inducting.
His 100-year old mother-in-law, Mrs. Grace Dubois, beamed as he spoke, as well she should have, given his years of kindnesses to her.
As he talked, I thought of Stewart, Middle Georgia Player of the Year in 1957, Boot, who in 1959 went to the University of Georgia on a football scholarship, Stanley St. John, who was a very good center on a good team, and Lee St. John, an outstanding running back, and how they must be thinking of the old days and their great gridiron successes.
I thought of how their experiences differed from mine. It was different for me, or should I say, it was different for them. And yet, what this All-American taught me was probably, in most ways, the same and most important things he taught them.
I have a framed campaign brochure of mine from 1998, and in it, this All- American says this about me: “Larry was one of the smallest players on the team, but he had more heart and fight than anyone I have ever coached . . .” He will never know how much his words have meant to me. He will never know how much he taught me about never giving up, and continuing to fight, and giving it my best. Yes, I’ll bet he taught Stewart, Boot, Lee and Stanley, the same things.
Coach, you are an All-American. The Georgia Hall of Fame Program on pages 21 and 34 says so.
They talk about your being a four-time, All-SEC guard (one of only two UGA players to do this), and about your pro career and what Coach Wallace Butts had to say about you: “Built like a fireplug and twice as durable, rugged, aggressive, quick and intelligent”.
And that’s why they inducted you into the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame, and that’s why they call you an All-American. Really, they missed it. We have an All-American living on our street. But, it has nothing to do with football. What it has to do with is the important life-lessons he taught me and so many others, and his kindnesses to Mrs. Dubois, and his starting his thank you remarks with, “I want to thank my Master . . .”. These and many others are the things that make him an All-American.
Herb St. John is the All-American living on our street, and Janice and I love Barbara and him very much. Thanks Coach, for being a real All-American.
