I’ve had coaches on my mind lately. I did a little research and discovered some interesting trivia. “Coach” is one of the few English words borrowed from the Hungarian language. The village of Kocs, northwest of Budapest, became well-known for the quality of its carts, carriages and wagons. As these vehicles became commercially successful, they began to appear throughout Europe. With the spread of these Kocsi vehicles from country to country, the name morphed from language to language. Over time, they became known in English as “coaches.”

The meaning of the word expanded to include mentors of some kind via British university slang. In the 18th century, tutors came to be called “coaches” because they were expected to safely convey their students through the rugged examination landscape — like the reliable Kocsi carriage.

For several generations, now, coaches, in the sense of athletic mentors, have come to play an important role in helping to convey boys on part of their journey from youth to manhood. Occasionally, I’ll hear someone bemoan the fact that many modern coaches are little more than performance techs, P.R. agents and glorified baby sitters. I don’t know about that, but I do know that a good number of manly men I know owe a debt of gratitude to coaches they had in their youth.

Some of the guys have asked me to express our appreciation to some of the coaches who served as important role models and motivators. So here goes.

First, let’s get the disclaimers out of the way. Nobody’s perfect. Coaches make mistakes like everybody else. There are good ones and bad ones. One bad apple spoils — blah, blah, blah.

Now, let me voice a collective “thank you.”

First off, our coaches added an important exclamation point to some things our parents taught — or tried to teach us. Mom and Dad told us that people judge us, in part by the pride we take in our appearance. Our coaches went a step further. They taught us that people judge the team by the appearance of the team members. Consequently, our coaches demanded that we be mindful of our appearance and our manners — not just at school, but everywhere. We knew that if we pulled shenanigans or treated someone disrespectfully, and it got back to the coach, there would be consequences. And it wouldn’t do any good to bellyache to our parents. Everyone trusted the coach to be fair and if you didn’t want to live up to his expectations, don’t go out for the team.

Then there was academic responsibility. The coach expected athletes to attend class and be on time. And it wasn’t enough just to show up. We were expected to put forth a good effort at our studies. Coach had a pretty good appreciation of our scholastic capabilities and was not likely to accept bogus excuses. Make the grade or go to study hall. If you still can’t make it, you’re off the team until you can.

All this was part of the regimen before we set foot on the practice field. As for practice, the coach led by example. He was in shape and was ready to demonstrate every exercise that would be required of his players. There was an ironclad recipe for making the first team. Show up for practice. Put out your best effort. Beat out the other guys. No shortcuts. No favoritism. On game day, show up with a clean uniform and a belly full of fire.

Everyone that suited up was bound to get his tail chewed out some time or other. But when we did, it was because we made a mistake when we should have known better, or we didn’t put out the effort the coach knew we were capable of.

When we moved along and left our coaches behind, a lot of guys were better dads, better husbands, better employees and better leaders because these men picked up where our parents and teachers left off. In many ways, they carried us, as good coaches should, from one point in our journey to the next. For all the good things they did that are still with us, thousands of us want to say, “Thanks, Coach.”

On a personal note, next month coach A.J. Hickman, formerly of Crooked Oak, will be honored by many of the men whose lives he influenced over the years. A very special “thank you” to Coach Hickman. We’ll never forget you.

I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.