I still remember it vividly. I wonder if the player does as well.

 

It was sometime after what I believe was the 1992 football season and I was at what is now Wayne Jamison Field. Leaving the locker room was one of the Indians’ top players, Eric Stoneking, after one of the few seasons that didn’t end in the playoffs. Walking toward him was Jamison himself.

                             

I was probably 15-20 yards away and saw Coach Wayne “Smiley” Jamison stop. He put his hand on Stoneking’s shoulder, said a few words and walked away from Stoneking and headed toward the fieldhouse.

 

Stoneking was walking in my direction, I believe carrying a gym bag with items from his locker. He also was carrying a smile on his face.

 

I asked the youngster at the time what Coach Jamison had said to him. Now I am paraphrasing Stoneking’s response here, but it was something along the lines of “You were a good player.” The joy on this 17- or 18-year-old’s face as a result of the statement was immensely obvious.

 

Because of that, I asked him a simple question: “Did that make everything worth it?”

 

Stoneking looked at me and kept smiling. His response was a simple two words. “It did.”

 

While I may not have all the particulars of the moment right, what I do know is that I watched Wayne Jamison’s magic in that moment. He was treasured by those he coached and those who knew him.

 

By now, most know Wayne Jamison passed away. His wife Fay, who was as outgoing publicly and he was reserved publicly, blessed me with a message early Friday evening to let me know.

 

I imagine, like so many others, there was a twinge of heartbreak when learning of his passing. He was a father, grandfather, husband, educator and coach. He was to many, myself included, a friend.

 

Understand the passing of Wayne Jamison is indeed a huge deal to those mentioned above and who had the honor to be inside the social circle of Jamison. But this is also a loss for those who casually knew him and most notably the collective of the Bridgeport community.

 

Wayne Jamison’s name was known by many statewide. And those that knew him, knew he was the Bridgeport football coach – and he was the coach that won games and won state championships. He earned this reputation for himself, school and city in the pre-internet era when no one necessarily knew how well Bridgeport’s schools were performing academically or that the community could be ranked as the best small community by analyzing key demographics by a business Web site because, well, Web sites didn’t exist.

 

Before Jamison hung up his hat after the 1997 season, he had already won four state championships (1972, 1979, 1986 and 1988) and amassed a pretty impressive record. He finished his career 230-71 for a crisp .764 winning percentage with victories all across the state.

 

Largely because of Jamison, Bridgeport gained a reputation as a winner. Whether you liked or disliked the city, the school or the team, they were known for winning. If Jamison had just did that, his legacy would have been secured. But there was so much more.

 

Wayne Jamison, who was also a veteran, was an educator at Bridgeport for 40 years. And that education spread to the football field where he did the same thing over, and over, and over, and over … and, well, if you saw his teams play you know exactly what I mean. He taught discipline. The important of repetition to success. He showed substance is better than flash. In the process of coaching, he turned out hundreds of future men who would be good fathers, husbands and professionals – and a few good coaches, too.

 

Yet, if you didn’t know Jamison you may have been intimidated by him. Not because he was mean – far from it – but because he had a mystique and carried an aura about him that commanded respect. His former players, those who didn’t have that super close relationship like a Steve Stout or a Phil Nicewarner – loved the man.

 

You could see it when a grown man would display a boyish approach when talking to him. I saw it a hundred or more times after Coach retired and would be sitting with Stout in their prescribed seats in the BHS press box.

 

Someone would approach Coach that had played for him in the past and he would smile and start the conversation. The former player would often have family with him and tell them briefly about Coach Jamison with a level of reverence that had to be seen to be understood.

 

I still recall my first encounter with Jamison, which came in the late 1980s. I was working for the newspaper at the time and had just watched his Indians manhandle some team on the home field. I figured the interview would be an easy one.

 

It wasn’t. I was a young pup and Jamison only begrudgingly answered my questions. He was kind, but I felt after interviewing him multiple times that either I wasn’t asking good questions, that he had little to say because he was seeking perfection in a sport that simply didn’t allow it, or he wanted to keep his kids sharp by not offering any praise.

 

When his team finally lost, I assumed the interview would be better. It wasn’t. I joked with him about that a few years ago and he just chuckled as he often would when we talked and told me I was mistaken. That’s the best answer I could get – and I was totally fine with it.

 

It took a while, but Coach Jamison warmed to me. By warmed, it meant he tolerated me being around and even occasionally joked with me back when he was coaching and I was still writing sports full time. I think the entire time he was just feeling me out.

 

That was the early 1990s. Eventually, I moved on and didn’t see Coach Jamison for many years.

 

Imagine my surprise in 1999 when I began my job with the Bridgeport weekly newspaper I was putting together that among my first visitors was Jamison. Imagine my surprise when he stayed and talked for over an hour.  Imagine my surprise when it happened, and continued to happen, several times a year.

 

From that point forward, he would visit the office, we would talk on the phone if I had a question or he had an inquiry. And we always gave each other a hard time at ball games up in the press box at the field that eventually bore his name and will for as long as it stands.

 

Coach Jamison had become a friend. Yet, I knew I was one of many and that suited me just fine.

 

The other benefit of getting to know him was getting to know his wife Fay. She had no trouble putting coach in his place or tell him to stop picking on me no matter if it was at the ball field or if he was helping at the annual Bridgeport High School Alumni & Friends Foundation strawberry sale.

 

Make no mistake, Fay Jamison was Wayne’s rock. She was until the day he died.

 

To the casual observer, they were Yin and Yang. To the astute observer, they were perfect for one another. In the days ahead, I feel pretty comfortable in saying Coach would want the community to put their collective arms around Fay, the person who always made him whole, as well as the rest of his family.

 

As we go forward, it’s okay to remember the man for his football accomplishments. It’s okay to remember him for the good natured “knucklehead” comments he handed out. It’s okay to know he watched sporting events on TV with no volume because he didn’t need anyone to tell him what was going on. It’s okay to remember him for doing everything in his own black and white manner that included a Member’s Choice jacket and one of many baseball caps.

 

Also remember, he was a man that served his country, served his community, served children and served his family. Most important, he was a man that made a difference.

 

Wayne Jamison touched the life of thousands and he was known by thousands more who never met him. While we say goodbye, take comfort in knowing his lessons from 87 years on this earth can be found in multiple generations.

 

Coach’s work will live on. Because of that, his work here is done.

 

Rest in peace my friend. You’ve earned it.

 

Editor's Note: Photos show, from the top, Wayne Jamison accepting his first state title trophy in 1972, while he's shown talking after being inducted into the Alumni & Friends Hall of Fame. Next, Jamison is shown shaking hands with former player Steve Stout who was chosen as the top player among the top 40 players from 1972 to 2012 at BHS and he's then shown with 1979 quarterback Robert Marra. After that, Jamison is shown with his long-time friend and ultimate Indians fan teacher Alice Rowe and the annual golf tournament done in his honor. The picture after that shows Jamison talking to one of his favorite players ever in Dan McNamee during a television segment on the former player. Coach is shown with his wife Faye in the next to last photo, while he's shown in 1986 receiving a gift after this team brought home his third state championship.