November 16, 2005

Life after Bill
Wildcat fans and Manhattanites are struggling to imagine a world without their beloved coach

By J. BRADY McCOLLOUGH
The Kansas City Star

MANHATTAN, Kan. - Winter has come early this year.

The first snow of the season falls outside Ballard's Sporting Goods on Tuesday afternoon, peppering the cars parked on Moro Street. Inside the store, Becky Ballard is trying not to cry.

Ballard, 41, holds her hand nervously over her mouth as she listens to Bill Snyder's retirement announcement over the radio.

"He rambles a lot," she says with an easy smile.

Snyder's voice is comforting to her, like an old record. The Kansas State football coach for the last 17 years, Snyder can't get through sections of his speech because he keeps getting choked up. It's been an emotional day for everyone.

"I've never seen him cry before," Ballard says.

That's the way Manhattanites talk about Snyder - as if he's liable to stop by for Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's or their cousin's baby shower.

"It goes back to his character," Manhattan Mayor Ed Klimek says. "He's our coach, not Kansas State's coach. When you walk down the sidewalk, you don't hear people talking about Coach Snyder. It's Bill. He's a firm part of who we are and what we are."

After Saturday's home game against Missouri, the Bill Snyder era at Kansas State will be over. And as the news spread all over town Tuesday morning, the community began to reflect on what is widely considered the greatest coaching tenure in college football history.

"Everyone is carrying their emotions with them," Klimek says. "We're not just losing a football coach.

"This is a moment to be long remembered. Twenty-five years from now, we're going to remember where we were."

Before 7 a.m. Tuesday, Klimek got a call from a friend who told him the news. At 7, Mesha Pine was awakened by a call from her boyfriend in Kansas City. Pine, a senior at K-State, had been considering selling her tickets to the Missouri game because the Wildcats are 4-6 and out of bowl contention.

"Do not sell your tickets," her boyfriend demanded.

"I was shocked," Pine says. "Thoroughly shocked."

Thanks to Snyder's abrupt retirement, Pine will be one of many sentimental students holding on to those tickets.

"It's sad," Pine says. "Now it's not just my last home game. It's his, too."

Says sophomore Joe Grdinovac: "We have to win his last game."

Tuesday morning, many students battled the frigid winds and discovered the news splashed above the masthead of the student newspaper, the Kansas State Collegian, which incorrectly spelled Snyder's name "Synder."

"They couldn't even get his name right," sophomore Kyle Swanson says, flipping the paper down in frustration.

Swanson's buddy, sophomore Mitch Myer, picked up the paper and turned to the section's letters to the editor. One letter asserted that the Wildcats "are in need of some new blood" at head coach.

"Stupid," Myer says. "They don't understand football."

"He's given them everything they want," says junior Tim Rheem. "They're spoiled."

The majority of K-State students were simply wondering why Snyder would leave on a losing note.

"See you later, then," says sophomore Lindsey Darter, feeling abandoned.

Students just assumed that Snyder would always be there, like Joe Paterno at Penn State and Bobby Bowden at Florida State.

"He's like God," Grdinovac says. "If he said class was canceled, nobody would go to class."

God doesn't age, however. The guys at Haynes barber shop in Aggieville don't understand why college football coaches don't sit back and let the Social Security checks roll in like the rest of us.

"How old is Bill?" asks Edgar Chambers, a professor at K-State.

"I think he's 67," a man responds.

"Well, it's retirement time, then, isn't it?" Chambers says, laughing.

Ballard, who owns the sporting goods store that's become an Aggieville mainstay, isn't laughing. She's one of many Manhattanites who has benefited from Snyder's success. See, when Kansas State wins, more people want to buy purple and silver gear.

Pre-Snyder, Ballard's had only a small section of its store devoted to K-State clothing, and there were only two or three licensed clothiers in town.

Then Snyder came. Then came the 1993Copper Bowl T-shirts that flew off the shelves like Snyder's boys had just won the national title. Then came the win over Nebraska in 1998. And you thought the Copper Bowl T-shirts were cool.

"That was probably the wildest one," Ballard says. "Even Michael Bishop showed up at the store."

Ballard has encapsulated Snyder's career milestones in T-shirts over the years. Turns out the K-State licensing department has other plans for Snyder's last game on Saturday. Ballard was turned down for rights to print T-shirts and towels commemorating Saturday's game.

Nobody wants to believe it's true, even the licensing people.

But judging by Snyder's words on Tuesday, winter is indeed here for the Kansas State football program and the surrounding community. The days seem to be getting shorter, but nobody in Manhattan wants to think about that.

"Before Snyder, I'd be on a trip, and I'd say I'm from Manhattan, Kansas," Klimek recalls. "They'd say, `Where's that?' I was in Philadelphia a couple years ago and said the same thing. A guy said, `That's where Kansas State is! That's my favorite team! Did you see what they did last week?'

"I don't think anybody wants to accept that we could slide back down."

To reach J. Brady McCollough, sports reporter for The Star, call (816) 234-7747 or send e-mail to jmccollough@kcstar.com

 


J. Brady McCollough - jbrady@coveringsports.com (email) - 816-868-2621 (cell)