Team dentist King recalled as ‘member of our family’

As the story goes, an Atlanta dentist convinced one of his patients, a Georgia Tech football player named Bobby Tharpe, to wear a mouth guard to protect his teeth.

It was 1960, a time when players wore helmets either without a face mask or with one or two bars. Aaron King’s mouth guard caught the inter- est of Yellow Jackets team- mates who were interested in keeping their teeth.

So began a relationship with Tech athletes, coaches and staff that grew in depth and fondness for the next 59 years. The bond was made official in 1965 when King was anointed Tech’s team dentist, but his loyalty, consistent presence and good humor established a connection far more profound. King’s death last week- end at 88 triggered an outpouring of sadness but also warm feelings and memories.

“We all loved Aaron like he was a member of our family,” Tech legend Bill Curry said. “I mean all of us.”

King was born in 1931 in Atlanta, an only child. He graduated from Bass High (since closed) in Little Five Points, served in the U.S. Army and graduated from Emory and Emory’s dental school. A third-generation dentist, he began practicing in 1957, when he would have been either 25 or 26.

Without siblings or a spouse — King never married — his association with Tech’s athletic department became a focal point in his life. He fitted every football and men’s basketball player for custom mouth guards, a voluntary ser- vice he continued through the incoming freshman class on this year’s football team. But more than that, his cheering presence was a reassurance to those near and far.

Jackets great Lucius Sanford said that, prior to his return to Tech to work in the athletic department, “when I watched (games on) television and I saw him on the sideline, I felt like I was a part of it.”

In a 2004 AJC interview, King explained why he was so close to Tech athletes.

“You can’t be younger, but you can think younger,” he said. “And you can think younger by being with younger people.”

Before mouth guards became mandatory, King was an advocate for them, touting not only the dental benefits, but also their effectiveness in helping prevent concus- sions. Former Tech quarterback Rick Strom, who shared a close friendship with King long after his playing days in the mid-’80s were over, heard from King directly his beliefin mouth guards. If there was a player who had gotten knocked in the mouth, Strom said, “he’d say, ‘Yeah, well, if he wore his mouthpiece, he’d be doing a lot better.’”

Curry didn’t wear one at Tech, but when he began suffering concussions and headaches in the NFL, King told him that his problems would stop if he started wearing a mouth guard. Curry did as told, and the issues went away, he said.

King continued to work through last week, his clientele including a number of Tech coaches and staff.

“Last time I saw him, it was out on the (practice) field,” Sanford said. “I said, ‘Doc, I think I owe you a visit.’ ‘Lucius, you owe me two visits.’”

His role as dentist aside, King was a friend, dependable in his support in an environment where competition and judgment are ongoing. Since 1967 in football and 1973 in men’s basketball, he attended virtually every home and road game until recent years. He was also a frequent visitor to both teams’ practices.

Tech made King an honorary letter winner in 1990 and inducted him into its sports hall of fame in 2004.

Tech was not King’s sole source of community. He was close with partners at his dentistry. He also was a licensed pilot and a committed air-racing official and photographer, traveling annually for races in Reno, Nevada, and Oshkosh, Wisconsin.

“He lived a very full and interesting, interesting life,” Strom said.