STATE EXTRA: SACCO: The coach cried too

PULASKI
Jimmy Eavers’ tears were telling of what the Waynesboro baseball squad was. Some would call them a “team.” They called themselves a “family.”
So when Eavers, a freshman call-up from JV that spent most of his time in the dugout cheering on the guys that accepted him into the purple and gold familia, couldn’t keep from crying as the Little Giants readied to walk out of Calfee Park in Pulaski, it was clear who he was crying for.
Not for himself. Not for his lost chance, but for the guys who wouldn’t get another shot while wearing the purple hat with the gold “W” on it.
“I feel bad for them,” he said as he motioned toward the seniors with his lips quivering. “It’s their last year.”
The tears rained down, hardly hitting the bottom of his cheeks before they dried up in the sweltering heat.
Very telling, you may say, to watch a freshman look at the eight seniors and feel for them. Just like a little brother would do.
And papa cried too. Jim Critzer, the old ball coach you expect to have salt in veins, not welling up into tears in his eyes, quickly flashed his sunglasses down to show how he felt. He was losing a group of seniors he coached as freshmen. The team, according to some, is losing Critzer as well.
After the game, Waynesboro Athletic Director Mel Morris said nothing was final until he and Critzer talked during the summer. Assistant coach and long time friend Webber Payne said getting to the Group AA semifinals was sweet and sad, “since he’s not going to be here next year. He’s told the boys that, and I don’t think the boys believe him.”
Critzer simply answered the question of his possible retirement from the high school dugout with a “No comment,” as he left Calfee Park on Friday.
If it’s the last time the coach dons that ragged hat he wears with pride, it’ll be tough to look back at the Critzer era and not smile. Two straight Group AA Final Four appearances and a Division I player sent off to Virginia Tech. He’ll leave a team that has evolved into a program and the countless things he does that fans don’t see.
“Why do you think we have a team breakfast every game day?” Payne said. “And who pays for it? Jim.
“Who do you think does all the work on [the KC] field? Jim.
“We’ve been through thick and thin together,” Payne said. “There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”
There’s nothing Critzer wouldn’t do for his players. When he found out it would be tough to get breakfast for the team with a 5:30 a.m. departure time Friday, he was up the wee hours of the morning frying up eggs to make 48 sandwiches for everyone taking the bus to Calfee. (He said he made the bacon the night before.)
“And Joseph [Lucas] didn’t want his toast burnt,” he said with a laugh. “So I didn’t burn his toast.”
You’ll miss the coach who looked briefly back as the seniors walked from left field to the dugout after the loss before saying, “I’m going to miss them. I’m going to miss them all.”
Then he went back to corralling the players together to get them off the field, patted a still crying Eavers on the back and walked through the gate.
If it’s his last game, the Waynesboro school system is due up. It can’t afford to swing and miss. Not with a program in scoring position and certainly not with a fan base hoping it’s not just two back-to-back Calfee trips, then they’re out.