On Tuesday, Feb. 15, 2011 the Linn-Mar High School varsity bowling team was at the Cedar Rapids Bowling Center practicing for the upcoming regional championships, which would determine the teams that would go to the state championships.

As practice was wrapping-up around 10 p.m., I decided to check my phone and discovered several missed calls. Half of these calls were from my mom, and the other half from my brother. Obviously, something was going on, so I returned the call to my mom.
She indicated that my dad had fallen unconscious while attempting to hook up oxygen, and he was taken to the hospital. He then would be flown by helicopter to Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha.

My brother Allen and I decided to drive to Omaha that evening to meet my mom at the hospital. We arrived shortly after 3 a.m. Wednesday morning. After a very long day of testing, waiting and wondering, we still did not know what happened to our father or what his prognosis was. Practice for the Linn-Mar boys continued as scheduled, led by team captain Corey Prokop and the girl’s head coach Jeremy Moser.

By Thursday, there were still a lot of questions and meetings with doctors, teams of doctors. My dad was only 57 years old. He had his health problems in the past. He suffered from diabetes, heart disease and had a kidney transplant in 2004. Even with the previous medical history, nothing in this current situation pointed to anything related to his heart or kidneys. Thursday came and went, and we continued to wait, while Dad remained unconscious and was not breathing on his own.

By Friday, the rest of the family had joined us in Omaha, and we took over the waiting rooms as we have a tendency to do in our frequent history at hospitals. Oddly enough, we tend to fill the waiting rooms with people and laughter, rather than tears and sadness. We also received news as to Dad’s prognosis. It was not the news we hoped for, but at least we knew something.

It was determined that he had hypoxic brain syndrome, most likely from a stroke. This essentially meant his brain was starved of oxygen for too long, and it resulted in him having no brain activity. We decided to remove the ventilator making him breathe and allow nature to take its course. My mentor, my hero, my friend and my father, Mike Diercks, passed away on Friday, Feb. 18, 2011. It was our mother’s 55th birthday.

I was unaware at the time, but that evening, Prokop and a previous team captain who graduated in 2010 (Robert Wyant) rallied the team together to share the news of my father’s passing and get them motivated for the regional championships the following day.

Allen, Makala (my wife) and my mom insisted I return to Cedar Rapids to coach the Linn-Mar boys at regionals, even if I didn’t feel I would be that effective. During the four-hour road trip, I discussed with Makala that I felt bad for the team. How awkward would my presence make it? They wouldn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want my sorrow to adversely affect their bowling. We came up with only one logical solution. I decided to wear my Loudmouth golf pants that are Linn-Mar colors. I figured this would lighten the mood upon my arrival and relax the team immediately.

We were certainly not favored to win the event as we were facing the powerhouse and favorite, Muscatine High School and Cedar Rapids Jefferson, who beat us in a dual only two weeks prior. At best, we were projected to place third in the event.

When I entered the bowling center, all eyes were on me. It took me a second to realize that not everyone knew my father passed. They were just looking at my ridiculous pants. I made my way through the crowd to my team and their parents, who applauded and smiled at my choice of attire. Success! Of course, there were kind words and hugs going around, but the tension had been removed. I gradually noticed that the entire Linn-Mar crowd and both girls and boys teams were wearing black ribbons in honor of my father. All this for a man most of them had never met, but it meant the world to me.

Most of my boys told me they were going to win this one for me. I told them I appreciated the gesture, but just make good shots and let the pins fall. I didn’t want any of them to feel like they failed me if we didn’t win. About four frames into the first game, my mind and mood completely shifted. The Lions were making good shots, and my adjustment suggestions were working. We were fired up, the crowd was behind us and I was back in my element. The bowling world once again lifted my spirits and brought me back home.

We ended the day averaging a 214 as a team, led by sophomore Dreyson Robe, who averaged 253 in the individual round. Linn-Mar averaged 219 during the Baker round to upset some very good teams and set a school record. Our team connected on a deeper level than anyone expected, and I truly felt my father was with us. He was kicking a few weak 10 pins and tripped a couple 4-9s. There were no individuals during this tournament. Those who threw bad shots were picked up by their teammates and supported for their efforts. They bowled as one, and the energy was truly magical.

Following a very emotional win and heartwarming group hug from the team, and many more from their parents, my family and I had to travel four hours to attend to the funeral arrangements. This meant I could not help the team prepare for the state championships.

They practiced as scheduled anyway, and while we did not come home with a state title, the regional championships will be with us all forever. It taught me a lot about the rewards of coaching. I always try to show my students I believe in them even when I am disappointed in a poor performance. I am still their coach, and they are still part of the team.

During this match, the Linn-Mar boys showed how they believed in me. They had my back and were there to pick me up when I needed it.

Every generation says that the generation following them has no respect, no work ethic and no hope for the future. Coaching has taught me that 99 percent of the youth I work with are fantastic kids, who have compassion and a drive to win and will do anything to help a teammate, on or off the lanes. I believe they have an incredibly bright future, and I hope to be a small part of helping them shine.