Fifty Years Apart-Two Stories About Football and Race
- Sigrid Iversen
- May 5, 2023
- 4 min read

My dad grew up in a small Iowa town, went to another small town for college and, by his own admission, was a privileged and protected young white man of the late 50s and early 60s. During those years he was able to observe the violence of the Civil Rights Movement and it was extremely troubling. He had a visceral reaction to the hatred and inhumanity of the time. He had watched movies that depicted African Americans in a negative way. He had witnessed the violence on the television and was profoundly disturbed. The limited success of the Civil Rights movement was in full swing during those years. It was a fight that felt distant, but as he was about to find out, it was closer than he had anticipated.
Around that time, my dad was making his way to Rock Island, IL to teach social studies and coach football. By his estimation Rock Island was about 18% African American in the early 1970’s and it was a community divided by skin color and geography. As a result of Brown v Board of Education (1954), a precedent setting case that outlawed "separate but equal" in schools, the classroom was changing. The recognition that kids of color had the right to the exact same education as their white counterparts was a new idea. As with this precedent setting case, the showdown over civil rights took place in schools. Dad often spoke about that time in his career. The dynamics of education had changed, but it wasn’t just the classroom where boundaries were being stretched. There was a push for equality in places like the theatre, where the expression of culture was central. It was an example of a place where African American kids had rarely participated. It was a fair bet that these experiences were occurring all over the country.
As a social studies teacher he felt it was his responsibility to make sure that history was taught in its totality, not just the white perspective. It was only a matter of time before he would encounter a very different teaching and coaching experience than he had in the small Iowa towns he was coming from. Hatred and violence were not particular when it came to the Civil Rights movement of the 50's, 60's and 70's.
He knew that when his football players showed up, this was his opportunity to make a difference. On average, fifty percent of his football team was African American and for him, the football field was a natural place to blend the goals of teaching a team to interact, problem solve and depend on each other. He believed that playing football could, by extension help keep kids in school.
A Friday night in October of 1972 would serve as a catalyst for the events that would prove that the violence of the time had reached Eastern Illinois. It began with a fight at the weekly football game, and charges of police brutality. For days the community dealt with the repercussions of the fight. The violence and the events thereafter opened a Pandora's box of responses, at one point closing the school. Dad spoke about trying to quell the fears of his players, giving them a chance to talk about what was happening in their lives. He and his coaching staff engaged in conversations with players designed to help them respond as a unit, to look out for one another. They were teammates on the field, and they needed to support each other off the field. As you can imagine, it was a very scary time for them.
For dad these events hit particularly close to home on several fronts. He was a social studies teacher; he had studied and taught the mistakes of history. It was his position that the representation of African Americans in the past and the present were inaccurate. He was the head football coach. He believed that he could be an ally to his players; he didn't want to see his team divided. He was a Christian and he wanted to be a steward of those around him.
I was reminded of my dad while reading an article on CNN about Coach Pender and the Brunswick High School football team. Coach Pender and his staff successfully used conversation and team building as a tool to help his players deal with the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, a former player for the Brunswick football team.
Although the events in Rock Island in 1972 were different from Coach Pender's in 2020, there were some tragic similarities. They both dealt with violence that changed the lives of their players, making them feel unsafe. Violence that changed their cities, and as a result they both felt the need to help their players and their communities. They did not have a savior complex, but they wanted to be allies to these kids, and, by extension their communities. They both were able to recognize their privilege; their desire was to be agents of change.
The emphasis for both coaches was family. The idea that these boys were part of a larger group, a system where one relies on another was integral to the trust that was necessary for change. It is not surprising that both men were referred to as father figures. These two coaches didn't do it alone. Some of the most important work was done by assistant coaches. They were blessed by these wonderful advocates for their players.
For these two white men, football coaches a half a century apart, the goal was the same: the safety and growth of their players; developing trust so they could have tough conversations and come out on the other side; and getting back to the basics that the game of football provides. It was their belief that if they empowered, defended, and advocated for all kids then perhaps, in a small way, they could change the world around them. One play at a time.
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