Coach Mahon always went to bat for his players

PLYMOUTH — They’re called the formative years — the time when you’re growing up and you encounter people who helped shape you into who you become.

Our parents play the leading roles in this process, but along the way, we are subjected to people who impact us, impress us, educate us on the ways of the world and on the way we are supposed to act toward one another and our community.

I was fortunate to have many people in my life that taught me right from wrong, taught me compassion for fellow human beings and also provided example after example of what it means to be a genuine person who sincerely cares about people and community.

Jim Mahon was one of those guys that impressed me. “Coach,” as I called him, was tragically killed Saturday when he was struck by a car on Main Street in Plymouth. Coach was 86 years old.

He was my Little League coach and one of my basketball coaches. He also taught me at Plymouth/Wyoming Valley West High School.

I have many vivid memories of Coach Mahon. One of the clearest was one day when he showed up at my house and asked my dad if he could talk to me. I was 11 years old and I was a big kid — I was as tall then as I am now. And I could hit a baseball pretty far.

Coach brought with him a wooden baseball bat — there were no aluminum bats back then. This wooden bat was, according to Coach, the maximum length, barrel size and weight allowed in Little League. I remember holding that bat and immediately feeling how different it felt than the bats I had been using. I couldn’t wait to use it in the next game.

Well, when I went to the plate for the first time, I hit one off the fence. This new bat felt really good.

My second at bat was not so good. I hit a line drive for a single, but the new bat broke almost in half. I was really upset.

Well, the next day, Coach Mahon showed up at my house again — this time he had two bats with him. He told me just in case I break another, we had a back-up. Coach also told me that he would keep buying bats as long as I kept hitting.

As I look back on that experience, I realize that it was about way more than the bats. Coach knew I was a big kid and a bigger bat would help me hit. Coach wanted me to be able to have the best option to hit the baseball.

Coach also reminded me constantly that the bat was just a tool. To hit the ball, I had to keep my eye on the ball from the pitcher’s hand to the bat. This was what my dad had always taught me. Dad would say, “You can’t hit what you can’t see.” And Coach Mahon knew that formula worked.

I don’t recall how many wooden bats I broke that year or the year after, but there were quite a few. And every time I went to the plate, I had a bat to use, thanks to Coach Mahon.

That’s commitment. That’s coaching. That’s compassion.

So when I read about Coach Mahon’s tragic death, I thought back to those days when a big kid found out what coaching and caring were all about.

When I was 12, I was locked in a pitching dual with Richie Krystofosky, who grew up one street over from me. Richie pitched for the Eagles and I was on the mound for the Bird Mining squad. This was a game like no other.

As per Little League rules, Richie and I had to leave the mound after pitching six innings. Richie had thrown a no-hitter and I had pitched a perfect game. Coach Mahon never forgot that game.

In fact, Coach told me that he saved the scorebook and he had petitioned the Baseball Hall of Fame to put it on display. Why? Because, Coach did some research and he said he was “almost certain” that the game was unique — he said he could not find any game at any level where one pitcher pitched a no-hitter and the other threw a perfect game.

I really don’t know if that is true, but Coach said he was sure. Every time I saw him he would tell me that he still had the scorebook and that he wanted me to have it. He never remembered to “throw it in his car,” like he said he would. But that’s OK, some legends should remain as is.

Coach Mahon was all about his players. He always wanted the best for them. He coached to teach first and win second. And he did win — even a state title at Bishop O’Reilly.

That’s why he kept buying all those wooden bats for a big kid on his Little League team.

Rest in peace Coach.