When playing baseball at Texas Tech, I played for a guy named Brooks Wallace. Coach Wallace, known as “Gator” to his closest friends, was a remarkable player, but an even more remarkable man.

A Plano Wildcat, Brooks played shortstop for Texas Tech from 1977-1980 and spent a short stint in the minor leagues. His baseball career was nothing to write songs about, or even get an award named in honor of it, but his character was certainly worthy of such recognition.

He was the type of guy you wanted to name your son after, and a few of his teammates did.

The Brooks Wallace Award is presented by the College Baseball Foundation annually to honor the nation’s most outstanding collegiate shortstop. A tribute to a slick-fielding shortstop that led Texas Tech to their first Southwest Conference Tournament in 1980.

I can remember when we had our Red and Black baseball world series in the fall, our PA system was broken so he whistled the entire national anthem, high and low notes! Towards the end, he got so dizzy from whistling that he began to stagger and nearly passed out!

A group of players had a bible study group and we asked Coach Wallace to come speak. There were about ten of us hunkered down in the basement in Weymouth Hall, and what he had to say stuck with me forever.

Coach Wallace was always cutting up and joking with others and could even be a bit crude at times, but when he began to talk about his wife and daughter, all things went serious.

I can still see him in my mind’s eyes sitting in that chair telling us that nothing in life was more important than family and his little girl. He choked up as he talked about the type of father he wanted to be and how everything else in life was small compared to her.

It was a side of him that we, as players, had never seen before, and probably never see again. We learned from him that baseball was important, but not even close to as important as being a good father and husband.

I never looked at Coach Wallace the same after that. He was bigger in my eyes than he was before because his influence stretched beyond the game of baseball. 

Going into my junior year, I can remember Coach Wallace always complaining about how bad his lower back hurt. He had tried treatment, pain killers, stretching, etc., but the pain only got worse.

Eventually, he went to the doctor, and through a series of tests, they discovered that he had Leukemia. I don’t know much about the disease, but this was the worst kind.

He spent most of my junior year in and out of the hospitals going through treatments. I can remember calling him from the baseball clubhouse when our team was struggling.

He was lying in a hospital bed listening to me as I talked about the team’s struggles.

His voice was weak and trembling from the disease and chemotherapy, but he made a statement that I have used a thousand times since, he said, “Howey, you all need to remember that you are out there for each other.” 

So true, so simple. If I have learned anything in sport and life, it boils down to that. We are here for each other.

That does not sound too difficult, but I still struggle keeping it all in perspective.

I can look at my bank account and see exactly how much money I have saved. However, I cannot look at my life and tell you how much time I have left to spend with others. That is why time is my most precious commodity and spending it on unforgiveness and petty – mindedness is a complete waste.

Coach Wallace died later that season, and he did absolutely nothing to deserve that. His lasting impact on his players had nothing to do with wins and losses or how to put down a sacrifice bunt. It had everything to do with putting your family first and never forgetting we are here to help one another in our own God given way.

I can die trying to make money or myself, or I can die trying to make time for others.

Now I’m no fool, I like money and wish I had a bunch of it. But even if I had all the money in the world, I still can’t purchase time.

I can always find a way to make a dollar, but I will never find a way to make a minute.

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Todd Howey is a columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose articles will appear on Fridays.