It Doesn’t Take Much
It Doesn’t Take Much
It started the very first day of football practice 3 years earlier, my sophomore year. I took the field with my teammates. Our uniforms were hand-me-downs from the local college, as MacArthur High could not afford new uniforms and equipment. It was 105 degrees and sweat was already running off of me like I had been practicing for hours. It was so hot, dry and dusty even our die- hard fans, the ones that followed every step we took, the ones that were always there to support the team year in and year out, were nowhere to be seen. The stands were completely empty except for a thin, unshaven figure dressed in a pair of tattered pants and a discolored MacArthur High School shirt. The political correct name, “street person” did not exist back in 1984 and everyone just called him Joe the bum. No one knows where Joe came from or where he lived, but everyday, no matter what the weather, Joe was in the stands watching us practice.
No one talked to Joe, but he was talked about constantly. Talked about in very unkind ways. When one of my teammates made a mistake, missed a block or fumbled the ball someone would say, “Joe the Bum can play better than you.” Even the coaching staff made unkind remarks at Joe’s expense. “Hit the books boys. You don’t want to end up like Joe the bum, they would say.” Almost everyone made fun of Joe. And trying to fit in, and feeling peer presser, I am sure I did too.
Two years went by quickly and on the first day of football practice my senior year I took the field. Another hot and dusty day in Irving, Texas. And there Joe was. He never missed a day. I was now the captain of the team and led my teammates in pre-practice calisthenics and running laps. As we ran passed the stands for the second time I caught Joe’s eye and he gave me a slight nod. Joe knew I was the captain and he gave me one of those “way to go Brad looks”. And I felt proud to be the captain. As practice ended and we were jogging off the field Joe was exiting the stadium. As I walked by him I said, “Hi Joe”, and he looked at me with surprise. I believe I was the first player ever to acknowledge Joe, let alone talk to him. From that day on Joe gave me a wave everyday, usually during our warm up laps at the beginning of practice. I did not know it at the time, but I was building a relationship with Joe. One day after practice as I was about to pass Joe leaving the stadium I stopped and said, “What does our team look like this year?” Joe kind of drew back and said, “I think we have a good chance to win the title this year.” I replied, “I hope so” and jogged off to the locker room. That was the last time I ever talked to Joe. We waved at each other and I saw him smile at us many times. Then one day Joe was not there. I am sure I was the only one that missed him. Then he was not there the next day and the day after that. Joe never came back.
A few weeks later, one day before my most proud day, the coach called us all together. “Boys tomorrow night when you take the field you will be wearing the nicest new football uniforms in the state.” We all just stood there kind of dumbfounded. How could we be receiving new uniforms? The country was in a recession. Businesses all around town were closing down. Many of my teammate’s fathers were out of work. Even the school district was laying off teaches. But there in front of us were boxes and boxes of new football uniforms. Jerseys, pants, shoulder pads, and helmets. A new uniform for everyone.
The coach let us marvel and ooooh and aaaaah for a while and then pulled out a letter and said, “Boys I received this letter from an attorney along with the uniforms.” He then read, “Dear Coach Miller, A few weeks ago Joe Boner passed away. Although Mr. Boner for his own reasons, lived a life of social seclusion, had no friends or relatives and appeared to be a destitute person with no visible means of income and the butt of many jokes in Irvin, Texas, for the past 30 plus years, Mr. Boner was in fact a very wealthy individual. One of your players, who Mr. Boner only knew by the number 58, befriended Joe. The first person to even give him a second look in years.” Joe the Bum, the man I waved to now and then and spoke to only once, bequeath 250,000 dollars to Macarthur High School football team.
Although many years have passed, and I have attended many business building seminars and courses, the one thing that has advanced my career more that anything else is the lesson I learned from Joe the Bum. It doesn’t take much to end up gaining a lot and as far as growing a business and increasing sales “Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover”
It Doesnt Take Much - To learn more about this author, visit Bob Janet's Website.
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As I ran out on my high school football field that Friday night in 1984, it was the most proud day of my young life. I had just turned 18 and until that evening I thought being number 58, the starting tackle on MacArthur High’s football team in Irving, Texas, was the one thing that would make me feel the proudest all my life. But on that Friday night, before the kickoff, even before the band left the field from their pre-game performance I was more proud of myself than I could possibly be even if I was chosen the #1 outstanding football player in the state of Texas.
It started the very first day of football practice 3 years earlier, my sophomore year. I took the field with my teammates. Our uniforms were hand-me-downs from the local college, as MacArthur High could not afford new uniforms and equipment. It was 105 degrees and sweat was already running off of me like I had been practicing for hours. It was so hot, dry and dusty even our die- hard fans, the ones that followed every step we took, the ones that were always there to support the team year in and year out, were nowhere to be seen. The stands were completely empty except for a thin, unshaven figure dressed in a pair of tattered pants and a discolored MacArthur High School shirt. The political correct name, “street person” did not exist back in 1984 and everyone just called him Joe the bum. No one knows where Joe came from or where he lived, but everyday, no matter what the weather, Joe was in the stands watching us practice.
No one talked to Joe, but he was talked about constantly. Talked about in very unkind ways. When one of my teammates made a mistake, missed a block or fumbled the ball someone would say, “Joe the Bum can play better than you.” Even the coaching staff made unkind remarks at Joe’s expense. “Hit the books boys. You don’t want to end up like Joe the bum, they would say.” Almost everyone made fun of Joe. And trying to fit in, and feeling peer presser, I am sure I did too.
Two years went by quickly and on the first day of football practice my senior year I took the field. Another hot and dusty day in Irving, Texas. And there Joe was. He never missed a day. I was now the captain of the team and led my teammates in pre-practice calisthenics and running laps. As we ran passed the stands for the second time I caught Joe’s eye and he gave me a slight nod. Joe knew I was the captain and he gave me one of those “way to go Brad looks”. And I felt proud to be the captain. As practice ended and we were jogging off the field Joe was exiting the stadium. As I walked by him I said, “Hi Joe”, and he looked at me with surprise. I believe I was the first player ever to acknowledge Joe, let alone talk to him. From that day on Joe gave me a wave everyday, usually during our warm up laps at the beginning of practice. I did not know it at the time, but I was building a relationship with Joe. One day after practice as I was about to pass Joe leaving the stadium I stopped and said, “What does our team look like this year?” Joe kind of drew back and said, “I think we have a good chance to win the title this year.” I replied, “I hope so” and jogged off to the locker room. That was the last time I ever talked to Joe. We waved at each other and I saw him smile at us many times. Then one day Joe was not there. I am sure I was the only one that missed him. Then he was not there the next day and the day after that. Joe never came back.
A few weeks later, one day before my most proud day, the coach called us all together. “Boys tomorrow night when you take the field you will be wearing the nicest new football uniforms in the state.” We all just stood there kind of dumbfounded. How could we be receiving new uniforms? The country was in a recession. Businesses all around town were closing down. Many of my teammate’s fathers were out of work. Even the school district was laying off teaches. But there in front of us were boxes and boxes of new football uniforms. Jerseys, pants, shoulder pads, and helmets. A new uniform for everyone.
The coach let us marvel and ooooh and aaaaah for a while and then pulled out a letter and said, “Boys I received this letter from an attorney along with the uniforms.” He then read, “Dear Coach Miller, A few weeks ago Joe Boner passed away. Although Mr. Boner for his own reasons, lived a life of social seclusion, had no friends or relatives and appeared to be a destitute person with no visible means of income and the butt of many jokes in Irvin, Texas, for the past 30 plus years, Mr. Boner was in fact a very wealthy individual. One of your players, who Mr. Boner only knew by the number 58, befriended Joe. The first person to even give him a second look in years.” Joe the Bum, the man I waved to now and then and spoke to only once, bequeath 250,000 dollars to Macarthur High School football team.
Although many years have passed, and I have attended many business building seminars and courses, the one thing that has advanced my career more that anything else is the lesson I learned from Joe the Bum. It doesn’t take much to end up gaining a lot and as far as growing a business and increasing sales “Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover”
It Doesnt Take Much - To learn more about this author, visit Bob Janet's Website.
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