McCrory: Coach Barbara

      After three years, Barb was ready to start teaching. She substituted almost every day, but that didn't pay much. No full time job was to be had. We both signed a contract at McCrory, Arkansas. When I went in to resign at Hannibal, they said they now had a job for Barbara. Too late. We were headed back to Arkansas.

Our children, Corey now seven, Kinley three, called the big moving van the “Arkansas Truck.” We backed it up our steep drive to load up, and as it filled, It just settled down onto the sidewalk that was sticking up. Wes brought his jeep over, with a giant rubber band, and just jerked it off like a slingshot.

      When we pulled into the new duplex we had rented, it was late. We hauled some mattresses in and went to bed. The duplex was alive with mosquitoes. We thought we knew mosquitoes; Barbara was from the Delta. But this was rice country. This was a totally new experience. Our kids cried for Hannibal.

      Barb was starting a new athletic program for girls under the new title nine program, Equal Opportunity for Girls. This was a turnabout – she was coaching, I was not. Once I was refereeing one of her girl's basketball games. She disputed one of my calls, and stormed onto the court. This was clearly grounds for a technical foul. I started making the "Big T" signal, then I looked into her eyes and saw THE LOOK, and, as I already knew of the “Dunnahoe nerve,” I thought better of it, and let it drop.

      Barbara didn't coach like me. She asked the most of her girls through love, not fear. I kept telling her she had to be tougher. She listened, then did it her way. During one of her games, they were trailing at halftime. Its tough, bringing a group of beginner girls against a team that had played for years. I sent a sheet of written advice down to her by Corey, as they walked to the dressing room.

      He handed it to her, she opened it and glanced at it, looked up at me, wadded it up and threw it away.

Over the years, I came to realize, Barbara's approach was the wave of the future. Many successful coaches, especially with girls, now base their success on firm love and respect. My type of coaching was on the way out. I think the new wave was destined with passage of Title Nine, Equal Athletic Opportunity for Girls, and Barbara was one of the pioneers.

Barbara was constantly fighting for equal equipment and treatment for the girl's program, and the superintendent was of the old school. He was bent on spending only what he was forced to by law on the girls. They butted heads constantly. Girls had no business playing sports anyway, to his way of thinking. Fortunately, enough of the parents and enough of the board supported her so that she usually got her way. But the boss filed each victory of hers away in his head. Eventually, she would pay the price for that.

      In one particular case, gymnastics safety was the issue. I walked into the gym one day as one of Barbara's gymnastics girls was finishing a running flip of some sort. The mats were old mattresses, that didn't fasten together. Her hand hit at the end of one mat, the next one slipped, her hand went to the floor, and her arm broke. In another case, they had no crash landing mats for the vault. They had to stack up the mattresses, and Barbara had already asked the principal for a crash mat three times. A girl landed from a vault, the mattresses slipped, and the girl's arm was dislocated. Parents came to Barbara, “Why do we not have proper protection?” Barbara was frank with them.

      The next school board meeting, a group of parents came in, and brought this up. The next day, the superintendent called Barbara into his office. He put his hands forward, on his desk, stood up, and put his face close to Barbara's. “Mrs. Gillum, let me remind you, I only offer girl's sports because I am required to by law.” Barbara stood, put her hands on his desk, and leaned forward into his face. “Let me remind YOU, You are also required by law to make it safe.” “Why did you not go through proper channels?” “I did. I went to the principal 3 times. You turned it down.” One just does not intimidate a Dunnahoe girl. Not if you're a human. A snake or a big wild animal can easily intimidate her. But not a human.

      Word spreads quickly in a small town. By the end of the day, every school board member called Barbara, and asked, “Mrs. Gillum, are you OK?” “Yes,” she said. “I handled it, and its fine.”

      Within a few days, she had all the proper mats she needed. And the boss was stewing in his own juices, just waiting for the day he would make Barbara pay the price for that.