Farewell, Coach.

Behind every great something there's a something. Behind every great man is a great woman. Behind every great athlete there's a work ethic. Well for the past 13 years behind every great Lobo win there's been a Casey Pearce. As he takes his fire and passion to his hometown Breckenridge, you better believe we'll feel his absence in the upcoming years. CP was every defensive player's dream as a coach. He came to work every day with his "chili hot," and if you heard his voice you couldn't tell if he was coaching in the state championship game, or if it was just 9th period track workouts with athletes he knew would never run varsity. CP didn't pick and choose. If you came across his way you were going to be coached, from the best player to the worst player.
The Man. The Myth. The Legend. CP.
Our two journeys met path first in the summer of 2007. His second year in Longview, the summer going into my freshman year at Longview, I had no idea what world I was getting ready to enter, but I knew they were going to get 100 percent from me. We first got acquainted on the squat rack. And if anybody has ever been spotted by CP, you know exactly what I'm about to describe. It's a 10:00 session and I've got 315 on the bar. I've hit this weight before with my dad, but with my legs wrapped powerlifting style. I approach the bar like normal, get under, and as I back out I hear, "Take a DEEP BREATH, and he pops me across my chest. I squat and can hear him screaming UP! I've never driven weight up faster in my life. CP brought that funk and energy in everything we did. He created my sense of urgency.

You could find me in the locker room and anytime my friends wanted a good laugh I knew mocking CP would bring it out. The way he would scream and pronounce every letter of the word will always stand out to me. "COMPETE", or "SCOOP AND SCORE!," or personally my favorite, "SHIT"!

No one will ever put in the hours King has, but if there's a second place it's definitely Coach Pearce. There'd be times you'd do a drive by on a Sunday in March and in his parking spot you'd find his vehicle. He would be organizing something in his office (the guy is a neat freak) or he'd be down in the weight room getting his 5th or 6th workout for the week. Honestly, he's the reason I workout as a coach. I remember the off-season of my sophomore year; him, Coach Peters and Coach Little would find some corky exercises for us to do after school. I remember him smoking me in a sled pull and talk crap to me afterwards. We used to joke about him using steroids, because there was no way somebody that small should've been that strong.

Not only was he an awesome coach to me, but Pearce was the perfect coworker. We've kept all of the family Christmas cards his family has sent. When I was struggling with making the transition from a player to a coach he was there to answer whatever question I had. I never worried about anything I told to him circling its way around the office. He was and is the constant professional in that sense. The last two funerals I attended, he attended, the latter being the most touching to me. When L.A. died one of the first faces I noticed while being on that stage was his.


His family is a big part of him. As you open his cabinet there were reminders he set for his self to talk to his mother. When I told him I was getting married, he congratulated me and encouraged me to talk to my wife. "Somebody's gotta understand this bullshit with you." His walk with Christ was never a conversation we had, but it was something that he was well cognitive of. If nothing else hopefully he reads this and knows it's the effort and the love he shows through coaching and work that counts.

After being named the Broyles Assistant Coach of the Year last year, and receiving Howard Payne's Alumni Coach of the Year, I knew this day would be coming. I'm actually quite surprised it hasn't happened any sooner. CP is the coach I wish I could be. Sadly enough it means saying goodbye to Monica and Gunnar as well. Me and Mrs. Pearce go way back, as she was the voice of reason to those who needed it in the hallway during my time in school, or the bad ass who's whipping those girls into shape in White Oak's Powerlifting program.

Who knew you'd stay as long as you did. Glad you got that ring before you got outta here. Love ya, coach. Hope to see you kick ass in Breckenridge.

Go Lobos.

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