Remembering Coach: My Tribute to Lance Gates
- Jake Watson
- 13 hours ago
- 3 min read
The Cedar Springs, Kent City, and Pierson communities are mourning the loss of a dear friend. Lance Gates passed away on November 13 at the age of 58 while on a hunting trip in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, leaving behind a legacy that extends far beyond the borders of these three small communities. To those of us who had the privilege of playing under him or calling him a friend, his loss feels deeply personal.
Lance Gates was the assistant coach for my rocket football team, the Kent City Eagles, when I was a young kid, and he was the kind of man you'd never forget. On the practice field, he often wore a stern look and could be tough as nails; the kind of coach who believed in hard work, discipline, and doing things the right way. But behind that toughness was one of the most caring, passionate, and encouraging men you could ever hope to meet.
If you ever played for Coach Gates, you remember his rather high-pitched voice as he would issue his infamous command: “Go to the pole!” Whenever we messed up a play, lost focus, or maybe just looked a little too comfortable, he’d bark those words, pointing toward the lone powerline pole at the end of our practice field. He kept us running, but he also kept us growing, both as players and as people.
But for every ounce of toughness, there was an equal, if not greater, measure of genuine care. While you dreaded his command to run to the pole, you lived for his praise, because you knew it was earned and it came straight from the heart. That praise could make you feel invincible.
For me, I remember it like it was yesterday, even though it’s been 25 years now. I was a young linebacker, running full steam to make a tackle on the opposing team's running back on an "end-around" play near the sideline. I hit him hard, stopping him short of the first down. The momentum of the play carried us both into the bench on the sideline, taking Coach Gates down with us in a heap of pads, helmets, and Gatorade. For a terrifying second, I thought I was heading "to the pole" for the rest of my life. But Coach jumped up, yanked me to my feet and screamed, "Was that Watson?!" He spun me around, grabbed my facemask, and with his face inches from mine, he yelled, "Watson! Now THAT'S how you tackle! Great job!" A firm slap to my helmet, and I was sent back onto the field. That one simple praise made my 13 year old self feel like I was someone worth believing in.
That intensity and passion weren't confined to the gridiron. As the years passed, the coach who once molded boys into football players became a cherished friend. My wife and I would often get together with Lance and his wonderful wife, (and one of our most favorite people) Kim. We’d sit and talk for hours about fishing, hunting, his kids, Darrick and Tiffany whom I had the pleasure of growing up with, about our plans for the future, and, of course, we’d relive the glory days through old football stories. We shared many laughs together during that time. Off the field, his character shone just as brightly. He was enthusiastic, affectionate, and always armed with a word of encouragement. He was the kind of man who would send you away feeling better about yourself than you knew possible. The type to yell your name across a grocery store and chuckle as he said "get over here!"...as I once learned.
And that’s the man Lance Gates was. Though we weren't related by blood, he was nothing short of family to me; a bond forged in shared coaching, victory, and mutual respect. He is, and always will be, greatly missed.
Not everybody is so fortunate to have such a lasting and positive influence in their life. I was one of the lucky ones. The lessons, the stories, and the memories of Coach Gates will forever echo in the halls of my memory, and I know, in the hearts of the countless others whose lives he touched. Thank you, Coach Gates, my friend Lance, for everything.
