Recess football games meant a lot

Resslin' Around by Casey Ressler

As the state soccer tournament winds down at Wasilla High School, the sun is setting on Doug Bean's career as an athletic director in the Valley.

As a sports editor at this paper, I had the privilege of working with both Bean, now the Wasilla High School athletic director and Mike Janecek, the longtime Palmer athletic director -- two men who put in countless years as athletic directors. Both of them worked long hours, all for the betterment of their students. Both grew into Valley legends through their hard work and dedication. They were -- and still are -- two guys I respect immensely.

When putting together a story on Bean's retirement, I knew I had to talk to other people, because the Beaner is just about the most humble guy you'll ever meet. Opinionated, but humble.

Years after a student graduates, they can often point to a couple of teachers who made a difference to them. For me, Bean was one of those teachers. He taught sixth grade at Snowshoe Elementary, and of that class, several of us are still around, and still remember fondly those recess football games.

Bean, weak knees and all, was always the quarterback -- ever the leader. He'd split up the teams, even though you already knew who you'd be playing with, simply because best friends weren't allowed on the same team. He'd dub everyone with a nickname, and as a result, to this day, one of my very best friends, Aaron, still likes to be called "Mega Man," which I find kind of disturbing.

I'm sure I learned something in the classroom that year, but what I'll remember forever are those football games, endless Monopoly games played during lunch and the larger-than-life teacher we had. I even learned how the point spread works on Monday Night Football, but that's something that I probably shouldn't delve into, at least not until Bean's pension checks start arriving. Let's just say I lost a few Shasta's during those informal lessons.

That year, we didn't look to Bean as our teacher, we looked to him as an overgrown kid, one of us, a persona he still has today. He still plays up the down-home, country bumpkin role perfectly, but behind that image, you'll find one of the sharpest, most sincere guys you'll ever meet.

I never thought that some day, years down the line, I'd be writing a story about his retirement, but I'm glad I got the chance.

Six summers ago, at my wedding, the Beaner showed up and gave me a wedding present I'll never forget -- two class pictures from that sixth-grade year. I'm the short kid in the front row with the bad haircut, thick glasses and sweatpants hiked up to my armpits. That gift meant the world to me, along with the seven toasters we received, because I never would have expected him to keep those, let alone dig them out. Of course, I still think he was just trying to embarrass me in front of my wife, so maybe there were ulterior motives.

The Valley, and the Mat-Su School District, needs people like the Beaner, and not just in athletics. While Bean made his mark as the AD at both Colony and Palmer, he made just as big of a mark on his students at the elementary school level. He kept kids interested in learning, interested in advancement and interested in life.

I had a lot of teachers who, looking back on it, were there for the paycheck. Nothing more, nothing less, and while they were good at their job, it was just that -- a job. People like the Beaner, however, don't see it as a job. They see it as a responsibility -- a responsibility to not only give young people the education they need, but also the life skills and the emotional development that are necessary to succeed later in life.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He believes that no grown man should be known as "Mega Man" -- and that betting Shasta on Monday Night Football should be mandatory in sixth grade.