Columnist reflects on the life of coach Bill Walsh
By Bruce Arkley
I’m normally not one for public events honoring celebrities, but I did not hesitate to take the day off from work last Friday to go to the celebration of the life of Bill Walsh, 49er coach of the millennium. My parents and I attended the farewell celebration at Candlestick Park (The name Monster Park was absent all day, confirmed when ESPN anchor Chris Berman called it Candlestick – twice).
I went to hear the speakers – Eddie DeBartolo, Joe Montana, Carmen Policy, Steve Young, and Dianne Feinstein. They all honored coach Walsh as I expected they would. I loved it when San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsome decreed that, regardless of whatever corporate sponsor had their name on the stadium, the field would be “forever” known as Bill Walsh Field. There was the video salute to Walsh’s coaching legacy, both his victories and his family tree of coaching descendants. There were thousands of fans wearing assorted 49er gear, Montana’s #16 being the most popular.
I knew that I wanted to go to remember the wonderful decade of the 1980s, a span of four Super Bowls and endless moments of enjoyment with friends and family as we watched Walsh’s teams dominate the NFL.
Montana to Clark (The Catch) … coach Walsh dressed up like a Bellman at the hotel as the team arrived in Detroit for their first Super Bowl … the dominance over the Miami Dolphins in their second Super Bowl … Montana to John Taylor to win the third Super Bowl … Jerry Rice, Ronnie Lott, Brent Jones, Harris Barton, Roger Craig, Keena Turner, and on and on … I got all that.
I heard Dwight Hicks, a safety on the 1982 Super Bowl team, deliver the finest line of any of the speakers. He told of a time in his youth when he and his mom watched a hearse pass by. His mom said something about there not being a U-Haul trailer attached to the hearse, that you can’t take your wealth and possessions with you.
During the video tribute, former guard Randy Cross said that he was a better football player for having played for his coach, but he was a better person for having been associated with Bill Walsh. What finer tribute could there have been?
That comment was the essence of a beautiful day. There was not a cloud in the sky at the stadium infamous for terrible weather. Whenever it became mildly warm, a wisp of wind came through to cool us all down. The grass on the field was so pristine that I thought it was fake turf. The soundtrack of mostly country songs chosen by Bill himself was an added treat. Most of the ushers were polite and friendly and thanked us for coming. Parking and bottle water were FREE. Strangers went out of their way to help my father with his mobility problems.
The best thing, however, that I came away with was far more than speeches and chants of “JOE, JOE, JOE.” It was a renewal and confirmation of what I believe to be the finest of the human spirit. As an interested bystander, I did not know what was going on in training camp, the locker room and on the sidelines. I am sure that there were many times when life in the 49er camp was less than ideal, as it is with any business or family. In a time when a good portion of the sports page is a police blotter or an argument over tainted records, what I saw and felt last Friday was an outpouring of love that could not be faked for the cameras and microphones. The men who played football for Bill Walsh, and were there to honor him, loved him. I heard that word many times in that hour and a half. I heard many stories of Walsh telling them he loved them, and of them telling him the same.
We all know what is most important to us, but we tend to forget about it in the hustle and bustle of our daily lives. I came away from this celebration with a reminder that it is the people we love and the relationships we have that are what we leave behind. Bill Walsh left behind a wonderful legacy in that regard, one far more important than his legacy on the football field.
What he also gave me was another great day with my mom and dad. We enjoyed each other’s company and the trip down memory lane. For that I owe thanks to Bill Walsh, who feels like a friend even though we never met.
Bruce Arkley is a vice president of human resources for an area winery. Besides fond memories of the 49ers, he has a wife, two children and semi-regularly attends “meetings” with friends at the Morgan Hill Tobacco Company.
