Sports

Kremer: USF Golf Coach Shatters Hall of Fame Color Barrier

Paul Downey, the men's golf coach at the University of St. Francis, became the first African-American inducted into the Illinois Coaches Association Hall of Fame on May 17.

In my book, Paul Downey always has been a Hall of Famer, and it matters not that he can crush a golf ball.

I’ve watched him launch a big tee shot. And I’ve watched him teach youngsters how to swing a golf club on the driving range. I’ve watched him mold young men by teaching them life lessons on the golf course.

And I’ve followed his golf coaching career, chronicled many of his triumphs, in fact, from his infant days at Joliet East and Joliet West to his salad days more recently at the University of St. Francis.

I applaud the Illinois Coaches Association for bestowing upon Downey the honor of becoming the first African-American to enter its Golf Hall of Fame, a long overdue rite of passage that took place during a ceremony on May 17 in Bloomington.

Downey rushed home from coaching his Saints at the NAIA nationals in Oregon, halfway across the country, to be a part of the ceremony in a town about halfway from here to where he grew up, on the playing fields of Centralia. He was a three-sport standout in high school—football, basketball, track—and never picked up a golf club until he was in his 30s.

During his senior year, Centralia went 29-2 in basktball and reached the IHSA supersectionals before falling to Collinsville in an epic battle 64-62. Downey and his teammates celebrated the 50-year anniversary of winning the storied Centralia Holiday Tournament in 2011. He still tells that tale to anyone who will listen—and how could you not listen to Downey?

He is a Hall of Fame storyteller.

Did you know the Centralia Orphans gained their nickname from a newspaper writer? A long time ago, they visited Chicago to play in a basketball tournament and were described as a raggedy-looking bunch, one that could be mistaken for orphans were it not for the talent they displayed on the court.

“And that nickname stuck,” Downey said.

If you don’t believe him, then you won’t believe Centralia won USA Today's state and national mascot competitions, either.

Downey—the man who today is 70 years old—first was shaped by his days as an “Orphan” and later his days working alongside Don Nichols, Bob Dwyer, Ron Larsen and all the gang in the Joliet Township athletic department who took him in and eventually turned him on to golf.

His job at USF has morphed into caretaker of a men’s golf program that has come to be viewed as a small-school powerhouse. The Saints have won 17 conference championships under Downey, including 15 in a row from 1997 to 2011. They’ve also won the respect of so many who have come to admire how Downey goes about his business.

His title is that of coach. Really, he is a father-figure. He takes his players under his wing before he sends them out to spread their wings.

“I didn’t like anybody telling me what to do,” Downey said. “I wanted to make that decision myself. So, that’s basically my coaching philosophy. I try to get the kids to realize if you’re in trouble, you’ve got to come out with at least two options.

“Now, the thing about it is, when you come up with these options, you’ve got to pick the option you think is going to be best for you. It may not be the one you should take. In other words, they may be trying to hit the ball through an opening in the trees when they should just push the ball out in the fairway.

“But thing is this: I try to give them options. I let them make the decision on what shot they want to hit. And the key is to own that shot. If you make a choice and it doesn’t come out right, don’t get upset because you made the choice.

“I didn’t make it for you. You made the choice. I tell them all time, ‘If you make that choice and it doesn’t work out and you get upset, then I’m going to be upset because you’re not owning up to what you decided to do.’ ”

Downey relates choices on the golf course to choices faced by his young men every day of their college lives and pushes them to do the right thing. Just as no caddies are allowed in college golf, no caddies are found toting books around campus, either.

“Just like in life, golf has storms,” Downey said. “If you’re able to weather those storms, you’ll be all right. In 18 holes, somewhere along that line you’re going to run into a problem with a drive or something else and you’re going to have to get through that.

“So, it’s important that you’re able to weather the storm and try to stay as in the moment as possible. I use a line from Braveheart when I’m talking with them, ‘In the now.’ So, it’s always stay ‘in the now.’ That way you’re not worrying about what’s behind you or what’s in front of you.

“You’re staying with what you have to do right there ‘in the now.’ Too many times we get ahead of ourselves, looking at the end rather than staying in the process. And you’ve got to stay in the process with this game. Otherwise, you’ll get beat up.”

Downey never goes around looking to pick a fight, but he is more than capable of standing his ground. He has climbed to the top of his profession, emerged as a leader in a game played and coached by very few of his ilk.

He said African-Americans and other individuals of color are limited in golf because the game is so expensive to play and because equipment is not as readily as available as, say, a basketball.

“We could meet up at the schoolyard and play games all summer with one ball,” Downey said.

He considers himself lucky that two individuals of color have played for him at USF—Kirk Blakney, an African-American, and Steve Sourigno, an Asian-American. Both were gifted golfers. Both could have gone to school elsewhere. Both elected to stay close to home.

Blakney works now as the manager at Woodruff Golf Course, on of three Joliet Park District layouts. He remains in close contact with Downey. In fact, Downey said he grows closer with many of his players after they depart from USF.

Then, his tough-love style turns to Teddy Bear-warmth. I’m glad to see others finally are taking notice of his work, taking off the blinders that were all too prevalent a part of his upbringing during the civil rights movement. Then, he didn’t dare go near the country club in his hometown.

Now, he is part of a special club.

“One of the guys came up to me at the induction and he said, ‘Man, it’s nice to see you go into the Hall of Fame,’ ” Downey said. “I said, ‘Well, thank you.’ And he says, ‘I’m a brother, too.’ I didn’t realize he was.

“He said it gives me something to look forward to, to aspire to be. Those guys have never talked to me or treated me any differently than any of the rest of them. They’re all friends, the people who taught me and the people I’ve met in the association.

“Plus, the thing about it, most of the guys I was associated with are Hall of Famers. It was about five or six years ago that they gave me the meritorious (service) award. I’m thinking, ‘That’s it. What else am I going to do?’

“They told me, ‘Paul, we’re getting you in the Hall of Fame. You deserve to be in the Hall of Fame.’ So, what they did, technically I was short on years coaching in high school to qualify, so they said, ‘OK, if he doesn’t have the years in high school, what about his years at St. Francis?’ ”

Golden Years.

And, thankfully, members of the Association arrived at the only possible answer to that question, what if? They elected Downey to the Illinois Coaches Association Golf Hall of Fame. I say congrats, my friend.





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