Showing posts with label Dr./Coach James C. Farrar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dr./Coach James C. Farrar. Show all posts

Friday, February 24, 2017

Coach Farrar: To his players, he was a giant

      (Third in a series recalling Coach/Dr. James C. Farrar, a legendary high school football/baseball and college baseball coach/professor in North Louisiana -- mostly Shreveport-based -- for three decades.)
---
      James C. Farrar inherited a powerful baseball program when he came to Fair Park in the fall of 1961. But under his guidance, it became the gold standard for the sport in our parts.
      There are programs in a variety of sports which had a longer run of success and more championships, but no one had a better-run, more dynamic program than the Fair Park Indians in baseball, 1962 to '67. There were two state championship teams -- 1963 (44-4-1 record) and 1965 (33-3) -- and, with a couple of breaks, there could have been a couple more.
At Centenary
     It was the culmination of Shreveport's then-blooming SPAR program, the baby-boomer generation that had been playing the game as kids for years. There were enough very good players at Fair Park for most of the 1960s to field three competitive teams ... and that, in fact, was the case in the summer American Legion program.
     When they were all together at what the media and Fair Park people back then liked to call "The Reservation" -- it wasn't politically incorrect in those days -- it made for some awesome teams.
     No team in Shreveport-Bossier history -- and few teams in state history -- was better, deeper in talent, than the 1963 Fair Park team. Danny Bob Turner, who played third base, remembers that 24 of the 25 players on the regular squad went on to play either professional or college baseball. And the competition for the 25 spots -- that's all the uniforms there were -- was fierce.
   And the man in charge was a memorable figure. He was a big man -- he would jokingly refer to himself as "the fat man" or "the old man" or "Ol' Lillie," a tribute to his little hometown. Don't remember him being fat, exactly; barrel-chested, or burly, might be a more apt description. But, well, he didn't exactly sprint out to the coaching box at third or to the mound.
   As a former catcher -- good enough to make All-Gulf States Conference twice for Louisiana Tech in the early 1950s and good enough to get a short (very short) shot at the pros and then player/manager for the Minden Redbirds in the semipro Big Eight League in the late 1950s -- speed wasn't a plus for James C. Farrar.
    But baseball smarts were. He loved the game, he knew the game, he knew players, and he knew how to teach the game.
     If you looked at Fair Park in the 1960s from the opposing bench -- as I did -- it could be intimidating. The players carried themselves as winners; they looked confident; they were well-drilled and prepared; their uniforms were sharp (Coach Farrar was going to make sure of that); and you sensed that the coach really knew what he was doing.
   "He was a jewel to play for," recalls Randy Bouknight, one of the two star pitchers -- with Dick Hicks -- on the 1965 state champions. "It was a magical run, those three years (1963-65). We didn't really realize how good we had it. We'd play 35, 40 games a year. A lot of schools didn't play more than 20."
   Bouknight and others point to the Indians' practices as the starting point.
   "He was like an orchestra leader, the way he ran his practices" recalled Bouknight in 2012. "It was like he'd move that baton, and things start happening all over the field. ... He kept everyone busy, he ran it like a major-league practice."
   Farrar always was a big believer in having his pitchers pitch live batting practice. If they were hurt, he'd test them in live BP; a bullpen session or simulated game wasn't enough. If they could throw BP effectively, they could pitch in games.
    And in live BP, said Bouknight, "if a batter hit the ball, your infielders and outfielders would play the ball as if it were a live game. If the batter hit a foul ball, you'd have one guy with a fungo bat on the third-base side hit a ball across the diamond to either the second baseman or first baseman; or a guy on the first-base side hitting to the third baseman or shortstop."
    And then there were the situations -- rundowns, pickoffs, baserunning plays, bunt plays, holding runners on base, cutoff throws and relays. "We'd practice situations over and over, every day," Bouknight said. "Not only did you know what to do in a situation, but everyone on the team knew what you were supposed to do."
    It was the knowing what to do that was SO important to the coach.
   "You respected him so much, and that was enough motivation to get things right," Turner said. "Most of the regulars played almost every day. If you made a physical error, he wouldn't say anything or say much. If you made a mental error, that was a way to be taken out of a game.
    "He had a way of getting on you that he made his point."
   "The practice sessions were oriented to situations; we spent hours on those," said Tom Giles, the All-State catcher on the 1965 team. "When those situation happened, you wouldn't have to think about what you had to do. That's a big plus for 16- and 17-year-olds."
    Practice sessions, said Turner, "were long and detailed. He planned it out. He drilled you enough that you knew what to do. If you didn't do it because you made a mental error, that was the path to the doghouse. Like hitting the cutoff man. If you missed doing that (in practice), it wasn't ignored. You were going to do [the throw] again.
    "His philosophy was that if you did it right, you had so much greater chance to win. ... You learned the game of baseball more than most people will ever experience."
    David Worthington was the shortstop and a team leader on the 1963 state champs and said, "One of his best attributes was that Coach Farrar felt things deeply. He felt life. He helped us to value the game, value the experience we had. ... He somehow or another motivated us to be better. He had the most structured, organized practices, used the time so well.
    "He wouldn't insult you or berate you, but if you were slacking off, he'd let you know. With his players, he was in complete coaching mode. He was a guy you wanted to play for; he made it fun, fun to play."
State championship coaches at Fair Park High School, James Farrar
(left) and Clem Henderson, revered by their players and friends.
    "Coach Farrar used to say, "You can't coach a mule to win the Kentucky Derby,' " Giles said. "We had lots of great talent, but he coached the players to the point where you had the experience of having gone over things in practice so many times that it made the games easier."
    Under Coach Farrar and under coach Clem Henderson in basketball -- Fair Park won the state championship in 1963 and was the state runner-up in 1964 -- Turner said, "The biggest thing I learned was character. You stand in the trenches and you perform when you needed to perform. It was a life lesson. It was so invaluable to me. You face those type situations the rest of your life."
---
     Don Barteet -- Donnie in high school -- was the sparkplug of the 1965 state champs, a terrific (All-State) centerfielder who could hit, hit with some power, run the bases and run to cover some ground in the outfield. He loved playing for Farrar ... except for one day in his junior year.
     Barteet was in left field then because Mike Herron -- also an outstanding player -- was in center. The Indians were playing in an Easter tournament in Baton Rouge, and it was an overcast, windy day.
     "You know how the weather is that time of year, and the wind was really blowing," Barteet remembered. "Batter hits a high fly ball, and I call for it right away, 'I got it, I got it, I got it.' Everyone backed off, and I run in, and I run, run, run ... run. I end up diving for the ball, and I hit the infield dirt, dirt's all over my uniform, up my nose ... and I didn't catch the ball."
      The batter reached base, and Barteet retreated to left field, squatted "and I'm trying to get the dirt off me, out of my nose. I look up and here's James Norman coming out there to take my place in left field. Couldn't believe it. End of the inning, OK, maybe. But in the middle of the inning?
     "I've never let him (Farrar) forget it. I always tell the peckerhead, 'You lost your temper, that's all.' "
---            
    Fred McGaha knew James Farrar longer than any player who played for him because Fred's dad, Mel McGaha, and Coach Farrar were close friends.
    Mel was player-manager of the Shreveport Sports who won a couple of Texas League championships in the mid-1950s, went on to manage in the major leagues and wound up as a coach for the Houston Astros when Farrar first was a scout for the club in the late 1960s. Mel made his home in Shreveport and retired from baseball to become the head of SPAR.
    And young Fred played for Fair Park in the mid-1960s, then went on -- with Farrar's recommendation -- to become an all-conference college player at Louisiana Tech. He is an attorney in Monroe, assistant district attorney at one time.
    "I've known Coach since I was a kid," he said in 2012. "He and Miss Kate were like a second mother and father to me."
     What he remembered about Farrar's coaching style was "he paid great attention to detail, starting with the way you wore your uniform. He always said that you will play like you look. If you want to play good, you've got to look like a ballplayer first.
      "He was very particular about the fundamentals. We spent so much time on those. You knew what to do with the ball before it went into play. You know what to expect in every situation. His teams always won by making the fewest mental mistakes."
      But it was Farrar's human touch that Fred remembered most.
      "The boys who played for him respected him so much; he commanded the respect," he said, "by letting you know that he cared about you. He would spend whatever time was necessary with kids to help them reach their potential, whatever that was."
      Fred was only a so-so player in high school, but went to Tech on a partial scholarship because "Coach Farrar told [Tech coach] Pat Patterson that I was about a year away (from being a player). He knew that I would work hard, that no one would outwork me. I played sparingly in my first year, but the second year, it kicked in. He was right on the money with that.
      "He and Pat were two of the most influential people in my life."
     Farrar's reputation in the game was wide-spread, said Fred: "Everyone in baseball knew who he was, and they still do. They respected him so much as a talent evaluator." 
      ---
      MJ Trahan is one of Coach and Ms. Kate Farrar's granddaughters, the daughter of Tammy (Farrar) and Dan Trahan, who met while students at Centenary. MJ is a Georgia Southern graduate who was a media relations coordinator with the Houston Astros -- as you can imagine, a particular point of pride for a man who scouted for the Astros for some 30 years.
      She now is an assistant sports information director at the University of Tennessee in charge of covering baseball and she is married to Mike Burns, who was in the scouting department with the Astros (he's now the South Texas area scout for the Toronto Blue Jays). Mike is from central Pennsylvania, which was a point of emphasis with Coach Farrar.
    "Granddaddy used to kid him about his accent," MJ said in 2012. "He'd say, 'Boy, you ain't from around here, are ya? You understandin' me alright?'
    "They actually have quite a bit in common though, which is fun. ... So they talk baseball and scouting, and also know a lot of the same people. It's a small world."
---
     The fungo is a long, light, thin-handle bat used especially for outfield and infield practice. James Farrar was a fungo master.
     "Oh, he could handle a fungo bat," Bouknight recalls. "He could really swing that thing."
      "Best I've ever seen; his skills with a fungo bat were incredible," said Greg Bickham, who played first base for Farrar's last Fair Park team in 1967 and whose younger brother Donnie was a star football and baseball player under Farrar at Northwood High a couple of years later. "He could hit the ball through the eye of a needle."
     Talk about working players until they got in shape ...
     "I have seen him wear people out hitting them balls with the fungo," said Bickham. "He brought them to tears chasing after balls. I've seen him wear outfielders out; they'd get to where they dreaded it. They could be running 100 percent, all out, trying to catch balls he'd hit. Every shot he'd hit with it was right where he wanted to put it. I think he enjoyed watching them suffer."
     But if fit into the Farrar reputation, said Bickham, because "his rigorous practices had a lot to do with his success."
     What he remembers most is that he "was just so passionate about coaching, especially baseball. But he was a very good defensive coach in football, too" when he was in charge of the linebackers as a Fair Park assistant.
---
    When players and coaches talk about James C. Farrar, the words that keep coming up are dedication, discipline, friendship, and mostly respect.
    "It never occured to me not to be respectful toward Coach Farrar," said Giles, pointing out that the early 1960s were a time when most parents and teachers had come through the Depression times and had some military background. "They had paid their dues, and we were mostly respectful toward them. ... Coach knew what he was doing; he got the results, so there was nothing to argue with him about."
      Greg Bickham: "He had a way of enforcing discipline without anger. He taught life lessons and baseball lessons." The players, he added, had "the epitome of respect for him. He wasn't feared, but he was so loved."
    And while he had a Southern gentleman's manner and mostly was an upbeat, encouraging, optimistic coach, don't think James C. didn't have some fire.
    Giles remembers the state championship series in 1965, Game 1 of a possible three, against Redemptorist (New Orleans) at SPAR Stadium. Weather was a factor and in about the fifth inning, the rain came and Fair Park trailed 1-0 when play had to be stopped for that day.
    The Fair Park team took the bus back to the school, retreated to one of the classrooms on the bottom level of the gym, and Coach Farrar proceeded a lengthy diatribe that could be described as a "chewing-out session."
   Giles says two of the team's top players -- seniors Tommy Ford and Larry Ostteen -- began cutting up in the back of the room. A couple of players remember that Ostteen was giggling.
   "Coach was always fair, but at the same time, the scoreboard mattered to him most of all. We were a confident team, but when he was talking, they weren't paying attention, and they were being disruptive," Giles recalls. "He came through those chairs so fast, to the back of that room, and he was going to kill them. He didn't feel like they understand the gravity of the situation."
    The Indians came back the next day and rallied to win Game 1. Ostteen -- the team's No. 2 catcher but also capable of playing first base or in the outfield -- might've been in the doghouse, but in Game 2 of the series in New Orleans, he was called on to pinch-hit late in the game with the bases loaded. Ostteen promptly hit a grand slam, and soon Fair Park had its third state baseball championship in nine years, its second in three years. 
---
    Ronnie Burns, who played third base on Farrar's last Fair Park team, said it "was an absolute thrill playing for him. He was a bigger-than-life type guy, what a character he was. He's one of the great ones. ... Everyone that played for him had loads of respect for him."
    Burns, now a homebuilder in Fredericksburg, Texas, said, "The biggest thing with him was, 'Don't ever give up, don't quit.' He had the bulldog attitude, he wanted to let you know that you were the best. ... Attitude was the biggest thing he taught. Mental toughness."
---
   Tom Giles said he spent some 10 years as an usher at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral, along with Coach Farrar, and it was a delight.
    "We were handing out church bulletins and greeting people, but we talked about all sorts of things we probably weren't supposed to," he said in 2012, a few months before Coach's death.
    "We always had a great time. He's such a relaxed, easy-going guy. Get him off the field, he was always entertaining. From a personal standpoint, he's just a great person to be around."
    "It's been unique over the years to recall the attitude we had about him when we were in school," David Worthington said in 2012, "and to relate to him now as adults. He was an encourager to all of us, to every young man he coached, and it's a special blessing to continue the relationship, to connect with him through the years."
 


















































Wednesday, February 22, 2017

James Farrar: An inspiration for his fellow coaches

      (Note: Second part of three pieces written 4 1/2 years ago -- and updated a bit to reflect changes since then. James Farrar died a few months after these first appeared.)
---
    The men who coached with or against James C. Farrar have fond memories of him. And the fondest memories are that of fun.
     Jerry Burton became a legend at Northwood High School, the longtime head football coach and athletic director. But in his first stint there, he was an assistant on Farrar's staff when the school opened in the fall of 1967.
     "Best time of my life," Burton said in 2012 (he died in June 2014). "We enjoyed each other. There was no bickering. We'd gather at Coach's house after games with him and Miss Kate as hosts. We were a close staff ... and we were pretty good."
     It was Burton who helped pave the way for Coach Farrar's induction into the Northwood Hall of Fame and for the naming of the school's baseball field for him.
     "I worked under several head coaches," said Burton, "and he was the very best for discipline and organization.
      "We were prepared for anything that [opponents] could do against us. ... He was thorough in everything he did. If the kids saw defenses they hadn't seen before, we had a call, 'Ungodly.' It was a defensive set we were supposed to get in. He had a defense ready for everything."

     But it was more than the X's and O's.
     "Don't get me wrong, he knew football," Burton said. "But it was his organization and his discipline that I remember most. He had that military background, so he had these rules, and the kids had to follow them. He was hard on the kids, but they loved him. ... And he was such a unique person; he had a story for everything."
      In fact, the stories might get repetitive.
      "Grover (Colvin) started this code for the stories," Burton recalled. "Coach would start a story and Grover would call out a number [to signify which story it would be). Oh, that gave Coach Farrar the red ass."
      "I figured, we might as well number them," said Colvin, a longtime coach in Shreveport-Bossier and in 2012 a financial consultant in Fort Worth who lived in nearby Godley, Texas. "Is this story No. 8 or No. 15? We'd heard all the stories, so to save time, if we just said a number, we wouldn't have to hear them again.
      "He could tell those stories, though. You felt like you were right there with him."
      And there was one day, on a weekend, when the Northwood staff was spending extra hours doing laundry and working on tasks around the dressing room.
      "Philip Johnson was griping about having to wash the uniforms, and he kept on about it," Burton remembered. "Coach Farrar is listening and he's patting his billfold. You can see him getting irritated. And then he says, 'I'll tell you one G.D. thing. When I was at Sibley, I had to do it all -- the laundry, the equipment, line the field.' And then Philip says, 'Well, if I had to coach at Sibley, I wouldn't coach at all.' "
     Not exactly the correct reply.
     "We all just starting ducking under desks," Burton said.
     Burton also recalled a night when Northwood was playing against Bethune at State Fair Stadium. We kept running the wham play [from a Power-I formation, the fullback and wingback lead on an off-tackle run by the tailback]," he said. "We are hurting them with it, and they had a linebacker who kept moving closer and closer to the line of scrimmage, sticking it in there and he's stuffing the runs. I'm in the press box calling plays and I get Coach Farrar on the phone and say, "Let's run the wham pass,' figuring we can throw down the middle to the tight end, and the linebacker isn't going to cover him.
     "We fake the run, throw the pass, and the linebacker steps in and intercepts the ball, runs it back for a touchdown.
      "Coach Farrar gets me on the phone and says, 'Got any more ideas, Burton?'
       "And I said, 'No, sir, not tonight.' "
        At a time when game-night attire for coaches always had been coat-and-tie, Burton remembered that Farrar was the first in the area to have his staff wear coaching shirts and khaki pants.
       "He always had the kids prepared, the coaches prepared," Burton said. "I adopted a lot of what he did with my teams. Any success I had, he had a lot to do with it."
---
     Lynn Mitchell was also on that Northwood staff, and his recollection was that Farrar "was a special guy to be around coaching. He let you coach; he didn't look over your shoulder. You knew who the (head) coach was, but he let you coach. He expected you to do your job and coach kids the best you could."
     Mitchell remembered a game, against Leesville perhaps, when he was in charge of defense and Farrar "says to me, 'Coach, let's go man to man and send everybody we've got [after the quarterback].' So I called that defense. Well, we didn't cover a man coming out of the backfield and he runs up the middle of the field and scores an easy touchdown.
      "Coach Farrar comes up behind me and leans over my neck and says, 'Coach, I'll never say anything to you again.' "
      Mitchell said the coaching staff often had to wait a long time near the practice field while Farrar talked to the team in a meeting room. "When he got into those motivational talks, it could take a while," he said. "We would just be sitting around on the practice dummies waiting. Finally, he would bring the kids out.
     "He was some kind of fun. But discipline, he was made for that. He had signs around the dressing room, 'Discipline, hard work and sacrifice,' and he held the kids to that. ... He was well-respected by the kids. They were in awe of him, but they were not afraid. When he said something, they knew they needed to do it."
---
    Jimmy Orton is one of the best all-around athletes in Fair Park history -- a shortstop and leader of the 1957 state championship team coached by Milford Andrews, the first basketball player to have his jersey (No. 10) retired at Fair Park, and a standout quarterback who went on to play at Louisiana Tech before signing to play pro ball in the New York Yankees' organization. He came back to coach at Fair Park in 1964, eventually was the head football coach and just missed winning a state title in 1974.
     Orton's first association with Farrar came when the coach was player-manager of the Minden Redbirds in the Big Eight (semipro baseball) League, and Orton -- after his junior year in high school -- was the league's youngest player. He had to receive permission from the Louisiana High School Athletic Association -- and commissioner T.H. "Muddy" Waters -- to play and remain eligible for his senior year at Fair Park.
    "Coach Farrar took me under his wing," he said, "because I was so young. Most of the guys in that league were older; some had played pro ball, some were in college. It was a fast league. I learned more that year about life and baseball than I ever did."
     Orton was an assistant coach on Farrar's 1965 state championship baseball team.
     "He knows so many people, and he can tell stories on them, and they tell stories on him," Orton said in 2012. "It was great to be around him. He was so unique, and he is so unique."
     Orton said one of the secrets to Fair Park's baseball success was that Farrar "had it set up where he got his kids at 12:30 p.m. (with study hall for a fifth period and P.E. counting for sixth period), and they'd start practice soon after that, and practice until dark. He really worked them."
    He said Farrar was "especially good with catchers and pitchers. Give him any time with a catcher and if the kid had any potential, after Farrar worked with him, he was going to be a player. 
    "He had a knack for talking to the kids in a way they understood, the way he taught them. He would get on them -- if I talked to them that way, it wouldn't work -- but they loved him, loved being around him."
--- 
    Charlie Wilkinson -- "Sam" to most everyone -- was one of Coach Farrar's close friends for many years. An All-State first baseman for Fair Park before Coach came there, he got to know him in the mid-1950s when Orton played in the Big Eight league.
    Sam was a trainer/equipment manager in the Houston Astros' organization for many years, so he had an Astros tie with Coach Farrar. The friendship grew through the years and Sam helped at Northwood as a volunteer trainer.
    "He was so detailed, took care of all the details, even to the way his players wore their uniforms," Sam said in the last year of Farrar's life. "... He kept his players in line, kept them doing the right things. It was his personality. He could grind on them, but they loved him. His was always constructive criticism, trying to make his players better."   
     What he liked especially about the Northwood days was "that the whole school rallied around him, and he rallied the school. His players behaved and he supported all the programs. He had everyone involved."
    Sam says Farrar "loved watching the history channels, the shows on the military" and he loved duck hunting, and of course, telling stories. "And he had all the one-liners.
    "He's just an old warrior,' he said in 2012. "He calls me 'Big C,' and not long ago when I saw him, he said, 'Big C, I might have health problems, but they can't take away the good memories.' Great attitude, but it hurts me to see him going through this."
---
    Doug Robinson, the LSUS athletic director in 2012, was the head football coach and an assistant at several Shreveport public schools. In his first year as a head baseball coach, his 1970 Fair Park team surprisingly won the state championship -- continuing the tradition Farrar directed just a few years earlier. A few years later, Robinson was on Farrar's staff at Southfield.
    "He's the finest guy that ever lived," Robinson says. "... He's awesome, awesome to work for. He's fun. Those were priceless years -- four great years at Southfield. I got my ass chewed a few times by the very best.
     "He got more out of kids than anyone I know."
    There were a few times when the coaching staff clashed, and Robinson said he was the cause at least once. He was in charge of calling defenses.
    Robinson: "We were playing someone -- St. Mary's maybe -- and looking at the films, Coach Farrar said there were situations that we could drop our defensive ends off, and I said, 'That's stupid.' He came across that room and his nose is about an inch from mine and he says, "Stupid? Are you calling me stupid?' "
      Robinson said he quickly answered, "No, sir" and he then offered an explanation. But Coach Farrar wasn't buying it. "You are calling me stupid," he repeated. End of meeting for that day.
     The game was played, and Southfield won it. But afterward, Farrar said to Robinson, "You never did drop off those defensive ends, did you?" 
     "No, sir, I didn't," Robinson answered. "Never saw a situation where it would've worked."
     Postscript: "Good thing we won the game."
     But in another situation, Robinson was in the press box at Cotton Valley being harassed by a couple of men who were hanging out up there. "I thought I was going to have to start swinging," said Robinson, "and Coach Farrar sent a couple of guys up there to help out. I'm glad he did."
    Robinson says Farrar "inspired me in coaching. ... He's a wonderful man, he was a wonderful coach. Loved his kids. He wasn't going to let them get away with anything, but they all just loved him. And he was such a special man when it comes to baseball."
---
     Leonard Ponder went from a P.E. teacher at Oak Terrace Junior High -- I was in the first class he ever taught, at age 21 right out of Northwestern State -- to the head of the Health and P.E. department at Texas A&M, where he wound up a distinguished career in education.
    One summer in the early 1960s, he taught drivers' education, and his teaching partner was James C. Farrar. Sometimes at the end of the teaching period, they would ride together to turn in a car at the Caddo Parish School Board offices.
    "I'd be driving, and he'd be sitting in the passenger seat," Dr. Ponder remembered, "and he'd say, 'I'm gonna get home and walk through the door, and Miss Kate is going to go to the refrigerator and pull a nice, cold glass out of the freezer, and then hand me a cold beer.' Then he would describe in great detail how he would pour the cold beer into the frozen glass, and how he would drink that beer ... 'very slowly.'
    "Not only did it cool me off just listening to him, but it almost tempted me (a teetotaler) to want a beer."
---
     Billy Don Maples, who coached Airline's baseball teams in the 1970s: "He was a versatile coach. Not only an outstanding baseball coach, obviously, but also a very good football coach. He leaves a legacy, not only with the guys he coached, but with the teams he coached. He never put a team on the field that wasn't competitive, from Sibley on."
---
     Tommy Henry -- T.K. Henry -- wound up his career as the longtime commissioner of the Louisiana High School Athletic Association. He began his coaching career at Bossier High School, where he built a baseball program in the late 1960s and especially the early 1970s that rivaled Fair Park as a dynasty. The biggest difference: Two Bossier teams lost only once ... in the state championship game (1972 and '73).
     Henry will tell you that James Farrar "was kind of my idol" as a coach. "I really looked up to him."
    It was Mel Didier -- who like Farrar went from coaching in Louisiana to make an impact in the scouting/development area of pro baseball -- "who showed me what you could do coaching baseball in high school," said Henry, but it was Farrar who had a more direct influence.
    "He was so special; he had a great program, great teams," said Henry. "What he did with his pitchers ... they only pitched, didn't play a position in the field, where most teams if they weren't pitching, they were in the lineup somewhere else. He ran his teams like a pro baseball club."
    As the Bossier coach, Henry's team faced Farrar and Fair Park twice, and he admits "I was really intimidated by him." 
    In their teams' first meeting at Bossier's Walbrook Park, he remembers going over to talk to Farrar during batting practice, and "he asked me if I was pitching a right-hander or left-hander. Told him it was a right-hander (Earl Cornette)." As they were talking, an errant throw hit Farrar in the head. Down he went.
    "There was my idol lying at my feet," Henry said. "I thought, 'Well, he's not so tough after all.' "
    Bossier won that game -- Henry says it was 5-2 -- and Fair Park won the second meeting, 6-3, at Fair Park.
    "I remember he taught some baseball classes one year," said Henry, "and I made sure to go to all of them. ... He showed all of us how good baseball could be up there. It was a time when baseball wasn't as popular as it would become -- a lot of football coaches considered it a nuisance, really -- but James Farrar helped make high school baseball special and grow into what it would become.
     "He pushed baseball, made it popular, made it attractive, and he was dedicated to his sport. He was an outstanding football coach, too; he could coach anything because he was a great teacher, period."
      (Next: His players remember)