Coach Has a Calling to Sail, Write

There’s little glamour in being an assistant, no matter what field you’re in. Houdini had helpers, but did anyone give an abracadabra about their tricks? Santa’s elves spend all year making toys, but it’s their boss who gets to ride with reindeers through the sky and pig out on milk and cookies each Christmas Eve.

Even that vowel-flipping gal, Vanna White, must realize she’s just another cog in the Wheel of Fortune.

OK, maybe not.

The point is that any assistant can feel non-existent, especially when it comes to coaching on the high school level. In the department of fame and fanfare, assistant coaches rank just above the cafeteria worker who plops a dollop of who-knows-what on your lunch tray.

You rarely notice them until they’re gone.

Jim Ferguson will not be back next season as pitching coach at Dana Hills High School. He and his wife, Kathy, are taking a six-month leave of absence from their teaching jobs to sail their boat from Dana Point to Acapulco and back, beginning in February.

Jim says it’s a dream he and Kathy have shared since they married 10 years ago. They’ve scrimped and saved for the trip by spending all those years living aboard their 35-foot vessel, Kathy, which is docked at Dana Point Harbor.

The Fergusons will be joined on their trip by two crew members: Sam Conroy, a longtime friend and coach of the San Clemente High surf team, and Tramp, a 22-pound black monster cat who walks on a leash, sits, shakes hands and gives high fives. No kidding.

“Tramp’s just a big, fat cat,” Ferguson says.

Right. And Godzilla was just a big, fat lizard.

Anyway, it seemed a simple story: A couple leaves their worries behind and sets sail for Margaritaville. What could you say but vaya con Dios?

But Ferguson, 47, has been such an important part of the turnaround in the Dana Hills baseball team in the past five or six years--head Coach Bob Canary says he wouldn’t have made it through all the down years without him--it wouldn’t be right just to say adios. Especially now that he’s uncertain whether he’ll ever coach again.

It’s not that Ferguson’s burned out on coaching, or tired of pesky parents--my words, not his--who think they know best. He’s not. And it’s not as if he’s some blase former athlete who doesn’t really give a hoot about kids and sports. No way. Even opposing coaches describe him as one of the most dedicated, caring and knowledgeable coaches in the county--assistant or not.

In his younger years, Ferguson played Class A ball in the Minnesota Twins organization. He caught in the bullpen, listened to different perspectives on pitching, became a student of the mound. His knowledge and guidance have been key to the development of Dolphin pitchers, including ace Jon Spaulding who--after a 4-3 eight-inning loss to Paramount on Friday--finished 11-1.

It’s just that baseball has never been in Ferguson’s blood the way teaching has. His passion for what he calls “creative instruction,” is tops in his heart. When he returns from his sailing excursion--during which he plans to write a math textbook on the ship’s personal computer--he says he’ll probably dedicate his full attention to the classroom.

“You get to a certain stage in your life where you need to make a choice,” he says. “It’s really hard to be a creative classroom teacher and a coach, too.”

Especially when your methods of instruction are so far out, the classroom can’t possibly contain the points you want to get across. Friday morning, Ferguson had his Algebra 2-Trigonometry class stationed on the top four rows of the school’s football stadium. With a small chalkboard leaning against the stadium press box, Ferguson illustrated the day’s lesson.

Then he asked them to take the field.

In a series of math problems, the students stationed themselves at different points on the field forming what Ferguson called the human grid. One of the equations led them into the shape of a heart. Math exercises? You could say that.

“He’s a great teacher; he keeps us awake,” said a girl with a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt and black fingernail polish. “That’s hard to do when you’re studying math.”

His players say Ferguson has helped them not only with technical instruction, but with his patience and positive attitude as well. “The thing I always like,” says junior Dan Anderson, “is when he comes out to the mound, he puts his arm over your shoulder to reassure you and calm you down until you’re ready to pitch.”

It’s obvious Ferguson isn’t enjoying the thought of giving up coaching any more than his younger players are enjoying the thought of seeing him go. Next season, the only dolphins Ferguson will be observing will be those swimming alongside his boat.

If Dana Hills is lucky, Ferguson will return soon. Not only back to school, but back to baseball, too.