Coach knows the horror of school tragedy
If we want to protect our schools from dark, delusional minds wielding semi-automatic weapons, then perhaps it’s time that we defer to the man who has stared into the dead, soulless eyes of one of these killers.
Perhaps we should listen to a coach. I’m talking about Coach Hall. Coach Frank Hall. Six years ago, this mountain of a man was a high school football coach and teacher at Chardon High School, just outside of Cleveland. He was monitoring a firstperiod study hall in the cafeteria early one morning when heard what he thought were firecrackers going off. But then he saw students diving under tables and falling to the floor and that’s when his eyes met those of 17-year-old T.J. Lane, a somber, sullen kid with a semiautomatic Ruger pistol in one hand and a knife in the other.
Coach Hall, a 350-pound former all-state offensive lineman, did what any great offensive lineman would do. He shielded those
around him. His own high school football and wrestling coaches always told him to trust his instincts. React. Muscle memory. Mind memory. And that’s exactly what happened.
Instead of running away from the bullets, coach Hall charged across the cafeteria like he was firing off the ball in the state championship game. “Stop! Stop!” he yelled as he charged the gunman, who became flustered, fired a shot in the coach’s direction and then turned and ran down the hallway and out of school.
When police finally caught him a mile away, Lane was asked why he ran away. His response: “Because coach Hall was chasing me.”
Lane killed three students that day and injured three others. Without coach Hall, countless others may have died.
“As a coach and a father, you just react and try to do anything you can to keep your kids safe,” coach Hall tells me now. “... As old offensive linemen, I guess protection is just bred into us.”
Isn’t it ironic that two of the bravest heroes in school shootings have been former offensive linemen — a position based on the selfless safeguarding of others? At Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland last month, coach Aaron Feis — another former offensive lineman and offensive line coach — died after he threw himself in the line of fire and literally took a bullet for the kids. Colton Haab, a 17-year-old junior and a football player, said the coach was shielding three girls from the barrage of gunfire: “[He] made sure everyone else’s needs were met before his own.”
When coach Hall heard of coach Feis’ death, he got a nauseous feeling in his gut, his face got red and he began sobbing. He was sad and mad at the same time.
“It keeps getting worse and worse,” coach Hall says. “Having that direct correlation with coach Feis and knowing what was going through his mind, I just felt hopeless and helpless. I was very angry about it. We live in the greatest country in the history of the world. We can’t find the money to put a School Resource Officer [SRO] in every school in America? It’s mind-boggling.”
This is one of the reasons he started the Coach Hall Foundation (CoachHallFoundation.org) with the mission statement: “To provide effective means to protect against school violence and improve the quality of life in our school communities.”
He’ll tell you what he thinks of gun control: “I believe in our right to have a gun to defend our homes and property, but you don’t need an AR-15 to defend your home. AR-15s are made for one reason: To kill multiple people.” He’ll tell you what he thinks about arming teachers: “No, teachers are nurturers by nature. They should not be asked to make the choice of having to kill somebody.” But what he is most adamant about is putting a sworn law-enforcement officer (SRO) in every school in America.
“The shooting at my school was 47 seconds,” coach Hall says. “From the time he started shooting until the time I chased him out the back door was 47 seconds. Our law-enforcement officers were at the school in less than three minutes, but we’re talking about seconds instead of minutes.
“We need someone at the school to protect our most valuable natural resource — our kids. I believe with all my heart if there had been an SRO at Sandy Hook, the shooter doesn’t get into the classroom. It’s heartbreaking. It blows my mind that we have law-enforcement officers — men and women who dedicate their lives and are willing to give up their lives — and we can’t put them in our schools.”
Listen to this man. He’s been there. He’s stared down the heated barrel of a semi-automatic weapon. He’s endured the guilt of surviving while three of his students died. He called up his wife after his heroism six years ago and tearfully apologized to her for not thinking about her and his own children while he was chasing the shooter out of the school.
“Coach Feis never got a chance to make that call,” coach Hall says.
It used to be that coach Hall wouldn’t talk publicly about what happened six years ago. He turned down interviews with Oprah and everybody else. He didn’t want his 15 minutes of fame; he just wanted to get rid of the 24/ 7 pain.
Then he and the family took a trip to see the Yankees play in New York. While there, they went to a museum and saw a movie about the kamikaze attack on the USS Intrepid aircraft carrier during World War II. The attack killed 69 men, but there was a sailor who was interviewed in the film and that’s what convinced coach Hall that he needed to start speaking out.
“The sailor,” coach Hall remembers, “said the attack was the worst day, but it was also the best day because they saved the ship, got back in the fight and made sure those men who died didn’t die in vain.”
And so coach Hall is back in the fight and dedicating himself to making sure all those who’ve died in school shootings become the immortal symbols of a national awakening instead of the forgotten victims of political pettiness.
A couple of years ago, coach Hall opened up to an amazing writer named Gary Smith, who penned an incredible Sports Illustrated cover story entitled, “American Hero.” The coach has been telling his story, lobbying politicians and raising money ever since.
“Keep this in the limelight and help us get it fixed,” coach Hall tells me before he hangs up. “Don’t forget about this.”
Don’t forget coach Feis and the 16 others who died in Parkland.
Don’t forget about the 26 who died at Sandy Hook.
Don’t forget about the 13 who died at Columbine. And on … and on. Don’t let them die in vain.
That’s the message of coach Hall, who is pursuing this cause just as he doggedly pursued a killer six years ago. “Stop! Stop!”
If anybody can stop the shooting; it’s coach Hall. He’s done it before. Maybe he can do it again: CoachHallFoundation.org.