It has been a sad year for American icons. At the end of last month, when the celebrated astronaut Neil Armstrong slipped the bonds of earth at age 82, our nation lost a humble pioneer, a man whose “small step” left the first human footprint on the moon. Fans of popular music are still mourning the death in February of mega-star Whitney Houston, whose soaring voice left its own imprint on the culture. Children who loved “Where the Wild Things Are” will miss Maurice Sendak, the artist who helped tame their nightmares. New Year’s Eve will never be the same without America’s oldest teenager, Dick Clark. And the world felt a little less safe on July 3, when Andy Griffith laid down his badge at 86.
While the late North Carolina actor was best known for keeping law and order in Mayberry as Sheriff Andy Taylor, he was once a stand-up comedian. In a classic five-minute bit titled “What It Was, Was Football,” Griffith milked his Southern accent and pretended to be a hayseed who had stumbled into his first football game. Trying to explain what looked to him like a bunch of men fighting over a pumpkin in a cow pasture, the humorist just couldn’t understand why men would want to stomp, kick and fight each other over something that was too tough to eat. “They kicked it the whole evening, and it never busted,” he mused. What Abbott and Costello had done for baseball with their “Who’s on First?” skit, Andy Griffith did for the NFL.
While the campus was largely quiet this summer, Harding lost a legend of its own. Coach John Prock spent 28 years of his career in Searcy. From 1960 to 1987, he shaped the lives of Bison football players, teaching them as much about life as he did about blocking. When he died in July at the age of 83, the auditorium of the Westside Church of Christ was filled with men in their 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s — all brought together to honor the man who had pushed them to “Be the best.” Whether the team was winning or losing, Prock had modeled perseverance, spiritual discipline and integrity, standing tall as the kind of man he wanted his players to become. And they loved him for it.
I wish I could say I knew the man, but when I came to Searcy in 2003, the retired coach was already fighting the disease that would take his life. So there are hundreds of people who could write a more personal tribute. But what I learned at his funeral gave me a deeper respect for his character and the effect he had on others. A member of several Halls of Fame, a four-time National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics Coach of the Year and Dean of the Arkansas Intercollegiate Conference, John Prock was justly proud of his career successes. But he was much prouder of the legacy that cannot be put in a trophy case: a 64-year marriage to his wife, Charlene; three children, eight grandchildren, three step-grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren; and a legion of former players who took to heart his gridiron lessons and grew into men of honor and purpose. That is the legacy of a life well lived.
Coach Prock was a builder. He built a weight room for his football players, back in the days before strength training was widely practiced among athletes. He was a skilled woodcarver, and he built everything from furniture to boats. He was especially proud of an authentic 19th-century log cabin that he relocated to his backyard from Mount Vernon, Ark., and restored by hand. But even more important, he built a family, a football program and a reputation for Christian discipline. He built trust with his fellow soldiers in the Korean War, and trust among the players who later looked to him for guidance. At his memorial service, one man after another stood to share what the coach had meant to him. Volunteers who had faithfully ministered to Charlene and John during his illness bore testimony to a life of service that had inspired their service in return.
In fact, the best things that he built will last into eternity. I’m thankful to God for our current coaches who follow his model and for today’s students, who never knew Coach Prock, but who live and learn in a place that bears the imprint of men and women like him. As Harding faces this transition year, may we honor the past as we look forward. We are indeed blessed.
