Barry Davis: My Hero

The morning after the best finish in the long history of the University of Wisconsin wrestling program, I'm moved to write about one my heroes: head coach Barry Davis.

When I was a sophomore in high school, my dad found a front row seat in the UW-Field House during my quarterfinal match at the state tournament. When Barry took the open seat next to him, my dad asked if he had his eye on anyone that weekend. Barry pointed in my direction and said, "that Kevin Black kid right there." As proud as can be, my dad introduced himself. That moment started a family friendship that will last forever.

During my senior year, the most difficult part in choosing a college was trying to discern what Barry was actually saying. He was thinking 1,000 miles per hour and he talked even faster. I had to pay attention closely so I could follow along with his lingo because no one understood what he was saying. He had an excitement for life that I wanted to be a part of.

On my recruiting visit, he picked me up at the airport in his Chevy Blazer and took me for the "ride of my life." He raced down University Avenue timing each stop light. Each time, I clinched the door handle because I thought he was going to run the red light. Without touching the break, the light turned green as he passed through the intersection. I was overcome by his competitive nature and made my decision to be a Badger. I have never second guessed my decision.

Barry told me that he was looking for good wrestlers, but also for great people. Madison has the potential to change teenagers who are in a vulnerable state. Fortunately, Barry helped steer me in the right direction. The path that I chose was the same one Barry was already on. My number one priority became glorifying God. Barry set a great example of what that looked like and it created a bond that was stronger than anyone elses in the wrestling room. He was my coach, but he was also my brother in Christ. He held me to a higher standard and we held each other accountable.

I have countless stories of Barry Davis. One time, we were traveling back from Central Iowa together and we had talked about everything imaginable for 5-plus hours. We ran out of discussion topics 30 minutes from Madison, so we focused on the road ahead. Since it was almost 2:00am, Barry was already tired and he started nodding off at the wheel. I didn't have anything to talk about and I was afraid to nudge him because I didn't want to embarrass him. After several nods, he fell asleep. His chin hit his chest and he was out, but the car stayed in between the lines. I didn't know what to do. Only Barry could drive while sleeping. His eyes were closed for at least 20 seconds (and it seemed like five minutes) before he picked up his head. Then it was business as usual. We still didn't have anything to talk about the remainder of the trip.

In Ohio State, he got hopped-up on (Diet) Mountain Dew. He came to my room late with Scott Mottice and did flips on the beds, push-ups on the floor and jumped from bed-to-bed. I laughed as hard as I ever had before. Later in my career, he tried to quit regular Mountain Dew. He showed me his scientific secret one day as he kept a 2-liter picher in his mini-fridge with one can of Sprite, one can of Diet Mountain Dew and two cans of regular Mountain Dew in an attempt to ween himself from the Dew.

He also had a "thing" for Cyndi Lauper. He would put her greatest hits in the CD player and go to work on the AirDyne. No one could out work him; I tried every day. If we placed top 7 in the NCAA's, he said he would dye his hair like Cyndi Lauper - red, orange (pronouced "oi-ange") and blue. Unfortunately, he never did.

The team gave him a hard time because he loved finishing sentences with, "and doin' that" or "and things and such." It's still an inside joke with many of my teammates.

Knowing his personality and kind heart, my favorite story of Barry was when he stuck his foot in his mouth with a recruit my junior year. The father of the athlete told Barry that he was concerned about college wrestling because it's very boring to watch and the matches are all low scoring. Barry assured him that it wasn't boring at Wisconsin because he had "these two Black boys that rolled around like a couple of monkeys!" Obviously, Barry was talking about Tony and me and our unorthodox style. The father was appalled and Barry did his best to dig himself out of the hole. Needless to say, that recruit never did become a Badger.

I could go on for days about Barry and the stories that make me laugh, but I don't want to take away from the reason I wrote about him today. During the recruiting process, he tells kids that he cares more about his athletes as men than he does about them as wrestlers. To him, it's about the big picture, not the fleeting fame. I had an opportunity to experience him "put his money where his mouth is."

I went to Wisconsin to win a national title. My career had progressed to the point that I had set myself up for a legitimate chance as a senior. By the end of January, I was ranked #2 in the nation and set to compete in the All-Star meet (#1 vs. #2, now it's done before the season). We had dual meets against Michigan and Michigan State the weekend before the meet. In a 10-0 win over my Michigan State opponent, I hurt my knee defending a high crotch. It progressively got worse throughout the night and Barry pulled the plug on the All-Star meet.

After returning to Madison, I had an MRI and the results showed a torn meniscus--a typical wrestling injury. The tear happened in a way that it could have been repaired. It had also torn and set in the joint, so my knee was "locked" and I couldn't wrestle. The decision was mine to make. Repair it and keep the cartilage or remove it and wrestle at Big Tens. My wife is a runner and we had dreams of a life of running together with our family, but I had a dream of winning a national title. I thought about it, sought wise Christian council and then went to Barry for his advice.

Barry said the decision wasn't mine and as the head coach, he was making the decision. I was going to have it repaired. He said he wasn't going to let me make a decision that impacted today when I had a family to consider. We cried and hugged and he told me a national title isn't worth the aches and pains I'd face when I got older. He didn't want me to hurt playing with my children. He definitely lived up to his end of the deal when he said he was going to treat me like a man.

He prayed for me, hurt for me, felt joy over me and loved me like a son. For as long as I live, I'll have Barry's back because he had mine. He had the foresight to think about my future when I didn't. I know I'm going to have more time with my children than I would have had the podium.

Thanks Barry! You're my hero.