He made most of his second chance

The veteran coach had finally had enough.

The season was winding down, and one stubborn sophomore was causing problems. For the first time in his coaching career – and the last – he kicked a kid out of practice and off the junior varsity basketball team.

But it didn’t end there. Education is about chances. Flunk one test, study harder, pass the next one. Keep working and come all the way back. The veteran coach knows this.

So the next fall, when the now-junior sought the coach out at an elementary school bazaar, the door was open.

The stubborn kid walked through.

The veteran coach gave him another chance.

It worked, although there were still bumps along the road. But a successful junior varsity year evolved into a year on the varsity. Graduation was followed by an enlistment in the Army.

The stubborn kid grew up, started a family, built a career.

Now it’s all over.

The news story last Saturday about Clint Prather being presumed dead – two bodies have yet to be identified, and Prather was aboard – in an Afghanistan helicopter crash hit hard. And it brought back memories.

Prather graduated in 1992 from Cheney High, where he ran cross country and played basketball. At the time I was attending most Blackhawks junior varsity games because the coach was Steve Larson, a longtime friend.

Over the years only a few of the athletes Larson coached remain clear to me. Eric Jacobsen, because he was Steve’s neighbor. Steve Emtman, because of his size and competitive nature. And Clint Prather, because he never stopped running.

Larson played Prather at a 5, in basketball parlance a spot reserved for the team’s post player, the biggest guy. That didn’t describe Clint. The only thing outsized about him, according to Larson, was his inner motor.

“He made a great 5-man,” Larson remembered, “because he was tough enough to guard the other team’s big man and he was tough for their 5 to guard. There wasn’t a big guy around who could run the court with him.”

Maybe Prather kept running because that’s what he did in the fall as a member of the Cheney cross country team.

Or maybe the reason was because of what Prather had to go through to play.

The story that started this column is true. It shows a face of high school sports most people don’t see.

Prather could have quit. He had cross country, he had other things. Other kids quit all the time. But he didn’t.

“I just thought it showed some character, for him to come and actually, face-to-face, ask to come back the following year,” Larson said. “That’s the kind of kid he was. He might blow up, and have a tantrum, and then it was forgotten, he left it alone.”

Like a lot of high school kids.

As boys and girls develop through middle and high school, sports plays varied roles.

For the non-athlete, sporting events can be part of the community-building process. For the marginal athlete, sports supplies goals to be reached, obstacles to overcome. For the great ones, it can be the ticket to the future.

For kids with the extra gear and a stubborn streak, like Clint Prather?

“Without question, it helped him,” Larson said. “It gave him a great outlet. I’m not sure he would have developed discipline (without sports). I think sports meant enough to him to keep himself in check during his rougher years.”

The middle and high school years can be rough on anyone, but especially for those of our kids who don’t have a clear picture of their future.

Prather finally figured out his future. It was in the service of our country. He enlisted as soon as he graduated and had been in the Army ever since.

As Larson said, he was “the kind of guy you want on your side. I just hope he was doing what he wanted to do.”

All indications are he was. His stepfather, David Hackwith, told this paper Clint “was 100 percent behind what he was doing. He would do it in a minute to ensure his kids would be free.”

Now, in Larson’s Cheney High class at least, he’s serving again, this time as a reminder.

“I explained who Clint Prather was,” Larson said of his first day back after spring break.

The lesson Larson was trying to impart?

“(Life) is a real tenuous thing.”