View from the sidelines

I really did not want to write this column this week about this man.

Kenny Marjerrison is someone I got to know through the job of writing local sports and, like every other person that knew anything about him, his loss is a hard one for me to understand right now, let alone put into words.

I guess you could describe my fear of doing this – paying my final tribute to a man I grew to like and respect so much – as a form of stage fright. Kind of like freezing up and forgetting your lines on stage, or not being able to do your best in a big match or a key game, I was, I have to admit, deep down inside afraid of not being able to come through in a suitable fashion.

Then it hit me as I got to thinking about Kenny and the way he coached his team and conducted his life. You have to stand up there and take your swings, to wrestle like you know you can... to give it your best shot.

It's all he ever wanted from his kids – their very best effort. And I am pretty sure he would want that from me right now as well.

You see, as a coach Kenny never wanted you to do anything for him, but he always wanted you to do something for yourself. Simply put, he wanted your best honest effort, this time and every time.

I can honor that thought by attempting to honor Kenny right now, for myself, sure, but more importantly (and I am consciously breaking his rule here) for him and all those who love him.

It is a story that has become about a fine coach turning boys into fine young men, but started with one boy growing into a man right in front of our eyes.

***

It truly was a beautiful fall day last Wednesday in Sanders County.

One day after the tragic, untimely accident that took Kenny's life, the air was so crisp and clear that it seemed like you could see forever, far enough to see all the way to heaven if you looked hard enough.

Maybe this gloriously clear day was a sign from above allowing us the chance for one good long last look at the man we have come to know as Kenny Marjerrison in his rightful place at heaven's door.

***

If it weren't for sports and wrestling specifically, I would have never even known who Kenny Marjerrison is.

About 20 years ago I noticed a gangly freshman out for the Plains Horsemen wrestling team, and saw his name in the program for the first time.

Kenny obviously loved the sport of wrestling, one could tell that right away – by the way he intently watched every match, by the way he seemed to soak up everything he could about the sport. He was a dedicated student of the sport of wrestling from Day One.

And he was a very good wrestler. If it weren't for a troublesome shoulder injury that nagged him throughout his prep career, he probably would have went down as one of the better grapplers in Plains High School history.

But you never saw him complain about his injuries, or make excuses for anything – that was never the Kenny way. He just quietly went about his business of trying to be the best he could be, with what he had to work with.

***

Following high school, and then college, Kenny returned to his alma mater in Plains as the technology coordinator for Plains Schools, and as the head coach for the Plains-Hot Springs Savage Horsemen wrestling team.

It was watching him coach that made me sit up and take notice of the fine person he had become.

Everything was what it seemed with Kenny, he was a straight shooter. If he said something was so, he was always true to his word.

And the kids of Plains seemed to flock to him because of his sincerity, he built a large wrestling team in a place that was always considered a basketball school, even guiding the Savage Horsemen to a Western B-C divisional title and making Plains-Hot Springs wrestling something to be respected at the state level, seemingly more and more each year.

In the world of wrestling, coaches have this habit of referring to themselves as "we" when talking about their wrestlers. Some coaches tend to take that line of thinking a little too far, and take credit when their kids do well; or worse, blame them when they do poorly.

That wasn't Kenny though. When he said we, he really meant we, like "this is you and me bud... I'll help you in every and any way I can, but it is ultimately up to you. But I am here for you."

Finally, I began to notice an almost cult-like effect he

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everyone on the squad wanted to be around him, to earn his respect. They would gather in bunches around him at tournaments, eager to see or hear what he came up with next.

Having no problem believing them, I heard stories of how his wrestlers would hang out with him in his office at school every chance they got, wanting to be part of the stuff that he was cooking up at any given time.

And he seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of each and every one of his wrestlers, perhaps knowing their strengths and weaknesses better than they did themselves. He helped them work through their weaknesses and make them strengths, in essence helping them grow from boys into men. Or in some cases, from girls into women

Not just with wrestling, but with all things in life.

Born out of this special kind of bond he seemed to develop with his wrestlers were some all-time Plains-Hot Springs greats. Guys like Russell Kujala, Kenneth Beech, Ben Gorham, Jake Lile, James DeTienne and Kane Lawson to name just a few.

Guys that would not have been near as great as they were without the wrestling coaching and life guidance that Kenny had provided.

***

I was looking forward to this upcoming wrestling season only a few days ago but now I am not so sure.

Going to that first Plains-Hot Springs wrestling match this season, without Kenny on the sidelines is going to be pretty tough, not just for me, but for everybody involved with the P-HS grappling program, or with Plains Schools.

But when that whistle finally blows and the wrestling begins anew please remember what Kenny has taught us all – give it your best honest effort, each and every time, and everything will be fine.

It worked for him, it worked for his wrestlers and, by God, I can see now it has worked for a sports writer in this clumsy attempt to honor him and his body of work.

Bless you Kenny Marjerrison, I am proud to say I knew you.