CBA's Dave Thomas -- A man for all seasons

By Justin Hayes
Published in Sports on January 28, 2018 3:08 AM

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PIKEVILLE -- He was a pillar of a different time, when practice was clocked by deadpan honesty and a high sun, and never inconvenienced by gassed players on bended knee around the water cooler.  

One worked under his watch, and liked it.

His penchant for sprints -- in full pads, no less -- was simply part of the program, and qualified not as corporal punishment, but as character-building.

One worked under his watch, and liked it.

And while he certainly didn't invent the game of football in northeast Wayne County, not many would likely testify that Dave Thomas didn't, in some form or fashion, give it better shape.

Infinitely better shape, to be exact.

"The Little Falcons would come out and practice late in the evening when they (varsity players) were done," said current CBA staffer coach Randy Pate, who played football for Thomas from 1979-1981. "He just made it a family environment... so, when they were through with practice, the Little Falcon kids would go out there, and you'd find your favorite player... 'hey, can I take your helmet? Can I take your shoulder pads?' There was continuity... It was a big deal."

One worked under his watch, always, and liked it.

WATCHING, ALWAYS

Pate, who now keeps his own cache of whistles, sits at his desk on Friday after watching the boys' varsity basketball team suffer a double OT loss the night before at New Bern.

As coaching faces go, his looks road-weary.

But when pressed for stories about his old coach, the Hall of Famer who, above all else, just wanted his boys to fully grasp the sum-total of their varsity shelf-life, the look changes. 

His expression, mired just minutes ago in a wasteland of poor shot selection and defensive lapses, spins on a dime.

Midnight oil is out, just like that, and is replaced instantly by a new posture -- the look of someone who would go back if he could. 

So, he does.

"I was frustrated as a sophomore, because I thought I should be playing more," Pate said. "Any kid thinks that, if they compete... (And) I was determined, hey, I've got to do extra, I've got to do extra to make it, and make him play me."

Which meant one thing under the Thomas flag -- more work.

"I would go out and do extra running," Pate recalls of the time. "So, one day, I had been running sprints for about 20 minutes -- probably six, seven hundred yards in total... and I'm walking through (toward the stadium entrance), and I heard somebody call my name before I got there... It ain't God, but you know, it's a loud, booming voice... 'Hey, Randy.'"

And there he was, the old ball coach -- hammer to every nail he ever met in life -- sitting behind the stadium's hedgerow on the hood of his Country Squire station wagon, the final drags of a cigarette curling around his sturdy frame.

"I just want you to know," Thomas said, "that all the extra work you're doing... people are seeing it."

 

LIGHTS & A TITLE

Each Saturday, as much of Pikeville was asleep and long before his gridiron brood wanted to be awake, Thomas conducted film study at the school -- and no, it wasn't a do-this-and-be-gone, drive-by effort.

It was, according to Pate, a marathon-inspired sermon, with no safe quarter from a very honest performance appraisal.

"He would go through every play 11 times, to watch each player and what they were doing," Pate said of the sessions, which would normally end on the far side of noon. "And then he'd watch it one more time, all the way through... and the worst thing you would hear was, 'give me the lights, men.'"

And in the varsity vernacular of Dave Thomas, that meant just one thing -- pay strict attention.

"He would go up and he would demonstrate what he wanted," Pate recalled. "And he was physically very strong... and you would be embarrassed. When you knew that play was coming up (on film), you would start sliding in your seat... and you knew -- oh my goodness -- you were going to be put on the spot."

But the motive for such wasn't malicious -- in fact, it was quite the opposite.

Thomas used the sessions -- and that phrase -- not as a cue to  berate his players, but rather to illustrate exactly how they should police one another. Because for all he cared, Thomas would never be in the huddle with them on third-and-forever at North Pitt with the whole Bethel screaming its lungs out. 

And what's more, it worked.

Over Pate's final two seasons along Highway 117, Aycock went a combined 19-3, claiming the 1981 Eastern Carolina Conference 3A title in the process -- the last of its kind in Pikeville.

THE LAST TIME

It seems there was no moment in the life of Dave Thomas -- great son of the Wheat State, husband, father of five and Hall of Fame coach -- that ever witnessed him shy away from people.

Relationships were his life's business, and developed over time through wins and losses and handshakes and smiles and referring to everyone as Coach, right up until his passing on Jan. 21. 

But make no mistake -- someone that pure, that indomitable, who not only accepted the challenge of living life in the service of others, but embraced it -- always manages a play-call to endure.

His former players, many of whom still live in the area, will certainly see to it. 

"This year, because I'm doing head basketball for girls," Pate said this week, "he made a point to sit behind my bench... and Wednesday (Jan. 24) was the first time he wasn't. And you look at that spot where he's supposed to be, (and) he's not there, because every time we win or lose... you go through the line and you're coming back toward the locker room, he'd come over and put his arm around me."

As only he could, Pate said, the old ball coach encouraged him to keep working. Further, he always thanked him for doing two distinct things --  doing what is right by today's children, and playing for him when he was one.

Imagine that -- the kid's hard work, still being noticed.