Coach Pete

I was thinking that I would write about Coach Pete: Fred Petersen, the legacy at both West High and El Camino College, who passed away this past week. For obvious reasons, thoughts and memories swirling around in my head, I thought I'd just start writing and, in light of his service tomorrow, that maybe something would come out that was appropriate to share and that others would read and then nod and maybe smile and whisper, "Oh Yeah, I remember that..." But the thing is, everyone who reads this already knows all of it because if you've lived in the South Bay, you know the stories and you know the legacy and you know how important he was to all of us who passed through WHS athletics, through his classroom or through El Camino Football. You know because Coach Pete was a larger than life figure in every way; he is beloved because he made himself an integral part of the fabric of this community. Most importantly, he took pride in every team, in every player, in every student who came under his tutelage. We were at a parent meeting last night for the upcoming football season and I heard his name mentioned at least a dozen times. In the past week, I've read messages, seen family members and heard stories about the man that invoked that same reaction that I mentioned earlier, the nod, the smile, the whisper...

But I'm in no position to write a eulogy; I didn't know Coach Pete well enough to talk about all of his accomplishments and his career highlights or how his family is so well known throughout this area that there will be no room at his service tomorrow; the church will be full. I was thinking instead about mortality in general and about some very specific people who reminded me in the past few days that life is indeed, fleeting... As my oldest son enters West High in a couple of weeks, as a freshman football player, I am also reminded of how time and legacies and the gauntlet is continuously passed, even in the midst of loss and grief. Another generation comes to fruition in the long tradition of high school sports, maybe the spirit of coaches and teachers like Coach Pete pushing them toward excellence. At the very least, that spirit of unconquerable pride in one's school, community and in oneself.

I don't think excellence comes from having great genes or from working until blood runs out of your ears. I think being excellent at something really just means that, no matter what is put in front of you, you figure out a way to knock past it; if that means through it, around it, above it, beneath it, you do not let it stop you. And in that quest to get by, you prove your worth, your talent, your skill, your intelligence, creativity, athleticism, whatever it is that made you worthy of striving for excellence in the first place. Let's face it, not everyone wins the gold medal, somebody has to lose and, really, that's what makes winning worth doing. I'm the last one to push winning as a reason to do anything, but being a winner doesn't mean that you have the most points in this sense of the word. It means that you found a way past, on your own terms, in your own way. And, ultimately, I think that's one of the biggest lessons that I learned from Coach Pete. He was a tough man, he didn't put up with any bullshit, but he also exacted what he wanted from you, as a student, as an athlete; he showed you that you could get past and yes, it was going to be hard and it was going to hurt and it was going to redefine everything that you ever knew about yourself as a person. But in the end you'd be better than you ever were and when that happened, you'd have the skill and the wherewithal to accomplish whatever you set out to do in your life.

When we played soccer at El Camino College and I say we, because there were several of us from West who made our way over to ECC stadium to play for Bob Myers who was another formidable character and who I loved as a coach very much, I'd look up sometimes to see Coach Pete in the stands. On a Tuesday afternoon or a Wednesday night, there he was, sitting up there with the other 3 people that we had watching us play; not too many fans back then. And it wasn't that he was just sitting there, but he was yelling, "Come on Gabaldon, move!" and I'd be thinking to myself, What the hell Coach Pete? Yelling at me? From the stands? And then I'd laugh to myself, crazy man. But after the game, on every occasion that he was there, he'd come down to field level and he'd shake our hands, putting one hand on my shoulder and he'd tell me exactly what he thought of how I played and he'd smile, that Coach Pete smile and he'd tell me, in not so many words, that he was proud of me for being out there in the first place. And, I have to admit that was another thing that I loved about Coach Pete, he never treated us like we were girls playing a girl's sport. He respected athletes and we were athletes; he respected hard work and honesty and loyalty. He respected discipline and integrity and he stood for everything that West High stands for to those of us who are lucky enough to call ourselves alumni. He, in all of us, through all of us, has woven a tapestry of all of these traits that we now pass along to the next generation. And as we begin another AYSO season and we sit at coaches meetings, smiling at our former classmates, laughing about how we remember our parents coaching and refereeing, we are reminded of how quickly the time is passing and how these moments when we are drawn together by the passing of someone great or by the birth of another child of one of those longtime friends or teammates, bind us together, forever.

I am proud to be a part of that tapestry and every time I push myself to go a little further, a little faster, a little stronger, I live Coach Pete's legacy. I wish his family much peace and love and hope in hearing how much he meant to all of us and that we will never forget him.

Salty Breezes Sweeping O'er Us,
Cries of Gulls and Terns on High,
Purple Cast on Distant Mountains,
On the Far Horizon Lie,

Hearts United in One Purpose,
Hands Clasped Strongly in one Tie,
We Salute Our Alma Mater,
Staunch Defenders of West High.

Sleep Well Coach Pete. We love you.