The first Crook column: In memory of Bill Crook

The Corbin Redhounds football program is celebrating its centennial anniversary in 2023. Leading up to the kickoff of their 100th season, and the unveiling of a newly remodeled Campbell Field this fall, the News Journal has been publishing a series of columns written by Bill Crook.

For years, Crook’s “Looking Back” columns revisited some of the most important events in Redhound history. In this special installment, we go back to the very first edition of Corbin! This Week, and we do so in memory of Crook, who passed away last month at the age of 81.

From August 12, 1987:

I gazed across the silent locker room, fixing my eyes on my son Scott. He sat weeping as though his heart was broken to where it would never again be mended.

It was his 18th birthday, October 30, 1981, a brisk autumn evening, and the young man was suffering from what, at this point and time, was his most devastating setback. He and his fellow Corbin Redhounds had just lost their first football game after a sixteen-game winning streak stretching over a two-year period, including a triumph over then-undefeated Fort Campbell High School in the 1980 AA Kentucky Championship classic.

Delivering the earth-shaking blow were the Middlesboro Yellow Jackets, who, contrary to how they may play other teams, always manage to play beyond their best against the Redhounds.

As I watched Scott in his agony, many thoughts went through my mind, thoughts of a young boy whose desire to be a Redhounds far outweighed the physical attributes he with blessed with to try and reach his goal. His willingness to learn and desire to achieve, while not carrying him to stardom, did allow him to become a Redhound.

It was evident to me Scott had all the symptoms of and was most definitely afflicted with a rare disease, one confined to a small southeastern region of Kentucky and primarily aligned with the city of Corbin.

The disease as I know it is like a rash, but not one which affects the flesh as do most rashes. Rather, it is a condition of the heart and soul, a condition I have seen many times over the last 30 years. Although it was in the early 50’s when I first noticed this phenomenon, I am sure it originated many years before.

After giving Scott some heartfelt, if feeble, words of consolation, I walked to the car with his mother, little sister and his brother, Jeff. Jeff, much like his big brother, had the same burning desire to be a Redhound, proof positive that the rash is contagious.

After arriving home, I slipped down into the family room to reflect, not just on this particular evening’s happenings, but on the illustrious history, the unfailing tradition, the mysterious spirit that has driven Redhound teams to unbelievable accomplishments in both recent years and the distant past.

I thought about what makes up this spirit that has set into motion this rash that spreads so rapidly through our young men and women. They have erected this invisible monument which encompasses our community.

Could it have been on a torrid, late August afternoon in 1923 when Mark Cadle asked his brother Bill (William A. Cadel) not to participate in what in the annals of Corbin athletics was to be its most despairing moment?

The Pineville Mountain Lions had fielded a football team for several years prior, and were a well-coached and conditioned team for its inaugural game in the 1923 season. On the other hand, the Corbin team members, sporting the nickname of Railroaders, were in most cases witnessing their first game of football.

Bernard Kincaid, a tall, handsome, lanky lad of approximately 18 years, was the only Corbin player with prior football experience.

The heat was unbearable that afternoon, and the Corbin team was sustaining injury after injury. Pineville was a well-oiled football machine that marched up and down the field with ease. Plater after player on the Corbin team were leaving the field. Coach H.B. McGregor summoned young Cadle to his side, sending him into the thick of battle.

Cadle battled furiously, but he was blocked from angles he never knew existed. It must have been complete frustration for the young man as he gave from within, from his very heart and soul.

It was around 4:30 that afternoon, the air thick with humidity, when a foreman on the railroad informed Mark Cadle, at work in Middlesboro, that his younger brother had been injured.

The elder Cadle took a cab from Middlesboro to Pineville, thinking every mile of the way, “I told him not to play, I told him not to.” As he rushed through the wooden fence, he noticed the score of the game on a slate blackboard – Pineville 142, Corbin 0. But that had little meaning to Mark; he was concerned for his brother.

He was too late. William Alford Cadle was dead of a cerebral hemorrhage. William Alford Cadle paid the supreme sacrifice. He gave more than anyone has given since. He gave his life.

Perhaps that day in 1923 the rash came to be, and perhaps the spirit of this young man is where the drive comes from that made the Redhound tradition what it is.

While the spirit of William A. Cadle was in its infancy, just two games after the disaster at Pineville, Herscall Moore kicked a field goal and the Corbin football program had its first victory, a 3-0 win over Barbourville Baptist Institute.