Thanks, Coach

I had my T-shirt on backwards when I arrived at Lumberjack Arena just after sunrise on a summer morning to check into ‘Jacks camp for the first time.

It was 2009 and I, a 13-yearold just months away from my freshman year at Eureka High, was convinced I would be a future star for the Loggers basketball team.

Being cut from Zane Middle School’s 6th-, 7th- and 8th-grade teams didn’t faze me. I chalk that one up to my parents, who never let me get too down.

Anyways, I lived and breathed that camp. I went all four years I was in high school. I learned more about the game I professed to love during those four days each summer than I did anywhere else. But I still stank.

As far as the whole “Loggers star” thing — I was cut from the squad my 9th, 10th and 11thgrade years.

So that camp became my entire high school season. Those four days where it. It was where I was on a team, and where I received the coaching and push I had always desired.

And there was Coach Steve Kinder leading the way, spending a few days out of his summer to coach up a bunch of kids like me who just wanted a taste of the game, if only for a few days.

I would get to the arena at 7:10 a.m. every morning and more than a few times over my four

years was the first one in the building, and always one of the first to get on the court.

And there was Kinder with his words of support. He didn’t know who I was, but every time he saw me getting up shorts while the rest of the camp was eating breakfast he would say something to the effect of “I love the dedication,” “Hard work is its own reward,” or “First one in the gym is the best one in the gym.”

It mattered a lot. Kinder and the bevy of coaches at the clinic made it all feel so real. I got so hyped up for the little camp tournament we had and the funny awards they gave out. My favorite was the “meat and potatoes” award for toughness.

I still have it. It’s a steak-shaped chew toy for a dog.

And it holds almost every good basketball memory I have.

My nickname was “Big Country” at the camp. Why? No idea. There’s nothing too country about me other that the fact I looked like I ate chickenfried steak every morning in high school. Moving on.

The last shot I ever took at the camp came in overtime of the illustrious ‘Jacks camp championship game. It was the game-winner. I got rushed by my teammates after it went it. For that singular moment I was, and had achieved, everything

I ever wanted to in the game.

And for that moment, I was on a team.

And Kinder was there to award us our trophies and congratulate us.

He was the best coach I ever had, and I never sniffed a whiff of college ball.

By tryout time my senior year I was in playing shape for the first time in my life.

I made the team (as a team manager, and then a kid quit and I got a jersey, but whatever, it still counts).

I played a total of six minutes that season. We went 6-16 overall, 0-8 in the Big 5.

And it was awesome. I met so many people who took me to a new space in life. I was finally on a team. My dad and mom saw me take the court in a high school jersey. I got to write a senior night speech.

It gave me a newfound self-esteem, and prompted me to get my stuff together and go to college, always with those words from Kinder in the back of my mind, always looking to be the “first one in the gym.”

I found my love for journalism around my junior year at Humboldt State. By my senior year I was stringing sports for the Times-Standard on a fivenight a week basis.

In December of 2017 I went to cover my first HSU basketball game.

I was nervous. When the time for the postgame press conference came around, me and my clammy hands waited for

Kinder to come in.

To him I was just another sports writer. To me he was the only real coach I ever had and one of the motivating factors behind the journey which allowed me to land my dream job as the local sports reporter for the community which I love.

He didn’t recognize me. I don’t why I thought he would. I asked a stutterfilled question or two, and went through that process another few dozen times through the years until Feb. 25 rolled around this year.

It was a Tuesday, and it was Kinder’s final press conference of the season as the men’s team was scheduled to finish up the year two days later against Chico State.

He probably knew, but I had no clue it would be his final presser as the head coach of the Lumberjacks.

Kinder’s 10-year head coaching career and 32year tenure as a coach for the ‘Jacks came to a close on Thursday. He’ll be moving on to an administrative role.

While a coach for Humboldt, Kinder provided opportunities for hundreds of young men to earn a college degree and move on to productive and meaningful lives.

He did the same for me. Great coaches are coaches year-round who no matter what the venue may be, always find a way to uplift their players.

Kinder is that, and we should all be so lucky.

Thanks, coach.