On Wednesday morning I received a phone call from Herald Publisher Jason Patterson that sent waves of remembrance through my body.
Not even a full year after the passing of Kyle Wallace, Yazoo City would be forced to grieve the passing of yet another coach who influenced so many children over the course of his career, many of which needed it desperately.
Coach Wayman Grantham, who was the head coach at Benton Academy for years before becoming the defensive coordinator at Manchester Academy, was a good man who was taken from this world far too soon.
My relationship with Coach Grantham was purely professional in the best possible sense.
What can a sports writer ask out of a coach?
You ask for consistency, an open line of communication, accountability, friendliness, and respect, and in reality, you’d be happy with 3/5. You ask that he answers the phone on a deadline morning for a quote about the game from Friday night, win or lose. You ask that he treats you like a normal human instead of a menace that he’s forced to deal with on a weekly basis.
Coach Grantham did all of that and some.
When he told you he’d do something, he was on it.
I remember one year when we were particularly concerned with the attendance numbers for the annual football banquet. A few of the teams in Yazoo County had less than stellar years, and frankly, we were concerned that no one was going to show up, even though we had already talked to all of the coaches. In the end, the attendance was decent at best for the event. One school had only one player show up.
Benton Academy, however, had their whole team there with bells on for the event, and Coach Grantham was front and center.
It was a testament to his support and loyalty to his players and the community that supports them.
That probably wasn’t a big deal to a whole lot of people, but to me, who had to talk and give out the awards, it meant quite a lot and told me all I needed to know about what kind of man he was.
As much as his accountability meant to me, that isn’t the most lasting memory I have of the man. No, that came in the following summer.
In the summer prior to his final season as the head coach at Benton Academy, I went up to the school at roughly 6 a.m., which was the time the team lifted weights in those days. I didn’t much care for the time, especially since I was driving all the way over from Belzoni, but that was part of the magazine production, so I did what was needed. When I got there, I took the needed weightlifting photos and got out as quickly as possible, but as I left, Coach Grantham stopped me just to talk for a few moment. He was wearing a t-shirt, red athletic shorts, and sandals and holding a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee. Since I hadn’t seen him in a couple of months, he just wanted to know how I had been. He was gleefully looking forward to a golf tournament the following weekend. He was so incredibly comfortable in his own skin, enjoyed being at work, and spent just the right amount of time looking forward to his downtime.
His mindset, even then, was a revelation to me.
When tragic events like this happen, I can’t help but question my own mortality and the mortality of those I love. This wasn’t a case of a man who had lived all of his possible years. There was so much more for him to give.
Now, two young boys are without their father, football players are without their coach, coaches are without their colleague, and a number of people are without their friend.
And that’s simply not fair, even for a world in which fairness is more of a luxury than a rule.
Manchester Academy will dedicate their season to Coach Grantham this year, and that’s a beautifully poetic thing for them to do. It’s the best possible thing they can do given the circumstances. It will add a little more intensity to their preparation and emotion to their play. The fans in the crowd will take a moment of silence when his name is announced and then cheer like they never have before. The coaches will still do all they can to win each and every game, even if they hurt inside.
But despite his heavy influence and memory pushing them upward and onward, they would all, I imagine, rather have him roaming the sidelines where he was so comfortable, where we all got used to seeing him, where he was at his best.
