Greg Kaufman

Nicholas and Ryan.

My family was posted to Ft. Benning, Georgia, home of the First Calvary in early 1965. I was not pleased at leaving Nurnberg High School and being assigned to Baker High School in Columbus Georgia. I entered school at the middle of my junior year and soon was on the track team. The Baker track coach was Coach Sam Roberts and he was, without a doubt, the best high school track coach in the United States. He changed me from an average runner to a championship runner in just a year and a half and was directly responsible for Florida State University offering me an athletic scholarship in track and field. Funny how things work out. Leaving NHS and going to BHS turned out to be my salvation.

The friends I made at Baker were some of the best friends in my life and I still remember many fond memories from my junior and senior year. I was an average student but posted a high enough GPA to be accepted into FSU. I ran on the FSU track team for the next 4 years and graduated with my B.A. in 1970. As I was in Army ROTC in college, I had already completed basic training between my junior and senior years and received my commission upon graduation. I also married my college sweetheart in Sept. 1969 and we completed our last year in college as a newly married couple. My first assignment was to a post in California where I was to spend my entire military career. My wife became pregnant and we had our first son on 11/13/71. I had received orders to serve in Vietnam on 4 separate occasions but each set or orders were rescinded. I opted for an early out and moved back to Tampa, Florida with my family. My wife's family lived in Tampa and my parents had moved to Largo Florida, not 30 miles from Tampa. There we spent the next 20 years raising our family and enjoying the Florida surf and sun.

I completed my master's degree at the University of South Florida in 1977 and became a licensed psychotherapist in 1982. I opened a private practice in 1986 and closed it in 1998 because of managed health care. Since then, I have worked at several local treatment programs as a clinical director. I have 4 more years until retirement when I will move to North Georgia and buy a small apple orchard. Apples are generally less trouble than people.

My sons are both successful adults and my eldest grandson begins his college career at UCF this fall. My life has always been in God's hands and I am grateful for his bounty.

So many stories, so little time. Perhaps the best of all the stories involves Coach Roberts, Randy Whitt and myself. Coach was a very wise man and enjoyed taking young men under his wing and helping them find their full potential. One of the ways he would bond with us is to take us fishing. Coach was a charter member of a private fishing club that had "secret" lakes in Alabama. One early spring day (4am) we met Coach at the BHS parking lot and departed for the fishin' hole. When we arrived at the lake, it was just about dawn and the weather was overcast with a light rain. It was a little cool and once we threw out the lines, we walked to Coach Robert's car to keep warm. Just as we arrived at the car, Coach saw his bobber go under the water. We all ran back to the lines and Coach tried to set his hook only to have the fish escape. We reset the lines and once again were back at the car when his bobber went under for a second time. This time Coach yelled, "Boys, go get that rod and set the hook." Randy and I ran back to the rods and Randy set the hook. Coach arrived shortly thereafter (he was a chain smoker and old, even in 1966). Coach got so excited that he set the hook a second time by heaving back on his rod. He broke the line, of course, and as we stood there dumbfounded, we watched the line snake out away from the shore. As it was going out very slowly, Coach yelled, "Boys, get that line"! Both Randy and I plunged into that lake and snagged that line with our hands. We brought it back to shore and Coach began bringing the fish in hand over hand. Within a few minutes, Coach had landed a 12-pound large mouth bass. He was shaking so bad he could hardly hold the fish in his hands. That day, we took 5 bass of various weight, the 12-pounder being the largest by far. This fish story is the absolute truth, so help me God. I have the photo to prove it and will post it on line as soon as possible.