At a TD Club
meeting many years before his death, Coach told the Following story...typical
of the way he operated.
I had just
been named the new head coach at Alabama and was off in my old car down in
South Alabama recruiting a prospect who was supposed to have been a pretty good
player and I was havin' trouble finding the place. Getting hungry I spied an
old cinder block building with a small sign out front that simply said
"Restaurant".
I pull up, go
in and every head in the place turns to stare at me. Seems I'm the only white
fella in the place. But the food smelled good so I skip a table and go up to a
cement bar and sit. A big ole man in a tee shirt and cap comes over and says,
"What do you need?" I told him I needed lunch and what did they have
today? He says, "You probably won't like it here, today we're having
chiltlin's, collared greens and black eyed peas with cornbread. I'll bet you
don't even know what chitlins are, do you?"
I looked him
square in the eye and said, "I'm from Arkansas, I've probably eaten a mile
of them. Sounds like I'm in the right place." They all smiled as he left
to serve me up a big plate. When he comes back he says, "You ain't from
around here then?" And I explain I'm the new football coach up in Tuscaloosa
at the University and I'm here to find whatever that boy's name was and he
says, yeah I've heard of him, he's supposed to be pretty good. And he gives me
directions to the school so I can meet him and his coach.
As I'm paying
up to leave, I remember my manners and leave a tip, not too big to be flashy,
but a good one and he told me lunch was on him, but I told him for a lunch that
good, I felt I should pay. The big man asked me if I had a photograph or
something he could hang up to show I'd been there. I was so new that I didn't
have any yet. It really wasn't that big a thing back then to be asked for, but
I took a napkin and wrote his name and address on it and told him I'd get him
one. I met the kid I was lookin' for later that afternoon and I don't remember
his name, but do remember I didn't think much of him when I met him. I had
wasted a day, or so I thought.
When I got back to Tuscaloosa late that
night, I put that napkin from my shirt pocket and put it under my keys so I
wouldn't forget it. Hell, back then I was excited that anybody would want a
picture of me. And the next day we found a picture and I wrote on it, ÒThanks
for the best lunch I've ever had, Paul Bear Bryant.Ó
Now let's go a whole buncha years down
the road. Now we have black players at Alabama and I'm back down in that part
of the country scouting an offensive lineman we sure needed. Y'all remember,
(and I forget the name, but it's not important to the story), well anyway, he's
got two friends going to Auburn and he tells me he's got his heart set on
Auburn too, so I leave empty handed and go on see some others while I'm down
there. Two days later, I'm in my office in Tuscaloosa and the phone rings and
it's this kid who just turned me down, and he says, "Coach, do you still
want me at Alabama?" And I said, "Yes I sure do." And he says OK, he'll come. And I say,
"Well son, what changed your mind?" And he said, "When my
grandpa found out that I had a chance to play for you and said no, he pitched a
fit and told me I wasn't going nowhere but Alabama, and wasn't playing for nobody
but you. He thinks a lot of you and has ever since y'all met." Well, I didn't
know his granddad from Adam's housecat so I asked him who his granddaddy was
and he said, "You probly don't remember him, but you ate in his restaurant
your first year at Alabama and you sent him a picture that he's had hung in
that place ever since. That picture's his pride and joy and he still tells
everybody about the day that Bear Bryant came in and had chitlins with him. My
grandpa said that when you left there, he never expected you to remember him or
to send him that picture, but you kept your word to him and to Grandpa, that's
everything. He said you could teach me more than football and I had to play for
a man like you, so I guess I'm going to."
I was floored.
But I learned that the lessons my mama taught me were always right. It don't
cost nuthin' to be nice. It don't cost nuthin' to do the right thing most of
the time, and it costs a lot to lose your good name by breakin' your word to
someone. When I went back to sign that boy, I looked up his Grandpa and he's
still running that place, but it looks a lot better now; and he didn't have
chitlin's that day, but he had some ribs that woulda made Dreamland proud and I
made sure I posed for a lot of pictures; and don't think I didn't leave some
new ones for him, too, along with a signed football. I made it clear to all my
assistants to keep this story and these lessons in mind when they're out on the
road. And if you remember anything else from me, remember this:
It
really doesn't cost anything to be nice, and the rewards can be unimaginable.