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JEFF WILLIAMSON '73 REMEMBERS...

Albert Loeffler is a man for all ages. He is a teacher, a coach, and a man I greatly admire. He is a soft-spoken man. Words from him could almost not be heard. You had to lean forward. Yet, when heard, they brought intense emotion, urging you forward. He was my high school soccer coach. Under his tutelage, I was part of three state championship teams.

His gray hair with wisps of white added to his power. His hands are huge. When you shake them, yours are enveloped by his. He is a tall man, with big bones and formidable structure, who carries himself with ease. I recall going to his office in between classes, just to talk. It might have been about soccer or other topics, possibly about one of my courses. It didn't matter. Often I would go into his office just to be with him. We would sit quietly.

He always wore a tie, with nice slacks and shirt. He wore his glasses slightly down his nose, to read or to see you. I would notice him walking along campus with an immense stride, never seeming to move fast yet always arriving quickly.

He coached the same way, never raising his voice, not even during tense moments in a match. During halftime all of us, in our huddle, leaned forward to hear him, often catching only a phrase or two. That was all we needed. I recall winning the state championship my junior year. I scored the winning goal. But I also remember a moment that happened that year that will last and endure with me the rest of my life.

It was during a game when I was not playing well. I was not moving when I should have, and making bad passes. I quit playing. Mr. Loeffler, as we always called him, sensed it, and took me out of the game. While I sat on the bench he walked down and stood in front of me, so close no one else could hear. He said, "Jeff, great players like you never quit." Those words have stayed with me the rest of my life.

The following year, at our preseason meeting, we had six returning players. Needless to say, we were pretty cocky. Mr. Loeffler began the meeting by saying, "Well, gentlemen, we might finish .500 this year." And then he stared at us for 10 minutes. He put the fear of God in us. We finished that year 18-0-1, the best record my high school ever achieved.

It is now years later. Mr. Loeffler has retired, and his wife Carolyn has died. He married again, at the age of 79. I run into him and nothing has changed; he has the same chiseled features, yet does not seem to have grown older. He has the same wise expression and knowing look. I grasp his hand with love and courage, trying to evoke passion and send it through our touch. He winks at me. I stammer briefly, but his strong hold on my hand and soul bring comfort.

We are together again; he is my second father. Now we exchange Christmas cards. Every so often I call the man who shaped and guided me through some tough times. I remember: "Great players never quit."

I am handicapped now, trying to regain my walking. Mr. Loeffler's words inspire my progress. I will never give up. I am in a wheelchair, but that has not diminished my efforts to walk again. I thank Mr. Loeffler for his lifetime of inspiration to me.

We welcome your own recollections of your Staples soccer days. E-mail dwoog@optonline.net. To contact Jeff Williamson directly, send e-mail to jwilliam@pressenter.com.