Cactus Jack: Against All Odds

By Walter Hubbard

What sets Jack Mason Carlisle's story apart is the adversity he overcame and the many lives impacted because he did. He constantly coached and taught as if he had something to prove, because he did. After a boyhood accident resulted in the amputation of his leg, the odds were stacked heavily against him to ever fulfill his dream of becoming a coach. Coach Carlisle was old school. He was tough. Players did not often make his team without first adopting a bit of his personality and a large portion of his commitment. When it came down to a player making his team, talent played second fiddle to just wanting it more than the next guy. The extreme physical demands he put on players stemmed from a philosophy that young people will only do what you make them do and everybody can do more than they ever imagined. The storyline here is not a distinguished sixty-one-year career or a Mississippi high school football record of 262-70-17, it's the number of hearts changed along the way. Stories and testimonials illustrate how players took their sweat equity with them long after old-school football. Although his teams frequently felt the thrill of victory, Jack's career was more about young people experiencing the true meaning of commitment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635750768

Book preview

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Cactus Jack:

Against All Odds

Walter D. Hubbard

as told by Jack Carlisle and friends

ISBN 978-1-63575-075-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63575-077-5 (Hard Cover)

ISBN 978-1-63575-076-8 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 by Walter D. Hubbard

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

296 Chestnut Street

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Preface

What sets Jack Mason Carlisle’s story apart is the adversity he overcame and the many lives impacted because he did. He constantly coached and taught as if he had something to prove, because he did. After a boyhood accident resulted in the amputation of his leg, the odds were stacked heavily against him to ever fulfill his dreams of becoming a coach.

Coach Carlisle’s extraordinary determination is what stands out most in his career. He was tough. More than likely, a player wouldn’t be on his team come game time without first adopting a bit of his personality. In his mind, talent played second fiddle to someone who just wanted it more than the next guy. This character trait is what so many of his guys took with them into adult life. In fact, the rigor in which many of his guys pursued life may be very well attributed to their Cactus Jack experience.

Where did Coach Carlisle’s toughness and determination come from? Along with his physical challenges, an unprivileged upbringing during the depressive 1930s and 1940s surely played a role. Heredity likely had a big part as well when you consider how the blood of his Native American mother often boiled just like his. His will to overcome adversity fueled his passion to convince thousands of young people that they could do even greater. Coach Carlisle’s distinguished career of more than sixty-one years is not the storyline here at all; it’s the number of hearts he changed along the way.

The following stories and testimonials illustrate the extent to which players took their sweat equity with them long after old-school football. Although Coach Carlisle’s style of coaching is by necessity extinct today, it could easily be argued that he had more impact on young people than most of the coaching culture today. Pain is simply an effective teacher. A glimpse into his career reveals the life-long impacts he made—many positive, some not so much. How he affected others always began with his demand to either match his commitment or go elsewhere. His influence becomes apparent when those who refer to him as Cactus, Happy, Captain, or Papa Jack, tell their stories.

Although his teams frequently felt the thrill of victory, Jack’s career was more about young people experiencing the true meaning of commitment. Quitting or making excuses were unacceptable and getting beat was simply a learning experience. The bar was set high for discipline and backed up by his leadership. The extreme physical demands he put on players stemmed from a philosophy that young people will only do what you make them do and everybody can do more than they ever imagined.

Jack’s disposition included a strong craving to get the job done with little patience getting there. One of his nicknames, Happy Jack, was an ironic tribute to his perpetual state of being all riled up. The nickname Cactus Jack was coined by Coach Warner Alford, then at Georgia Tech University, after a recruiting visit to Murrah High School right after they had lost a game. Jack’s nature was to express immediate intolerance for anyone exhibiting a lack of focus and commitment. Many coaches worked to instill confidence in their players. Jack’s style triggered a response more similar to a life-or-death situation.

Successful coaches must be exceptional leaders capable of handling the endless pressure to win. Aside from the controversial and competitive process of recruiting, winning still depends on the coach’s ability to motivate others to prepare and perform. As Jack’s players will attest, their motivation and success came from Cactus Jack’s tough leadership.

Jack’s work ethic impacted everyone around him. Extracting the best from players, students, and himself was his driving force and gaining approval from others along the way was of little concern. Determination defines Jack’s coaching legacy. His winning record is just a sidebar conversation. His record did, however, put him in an elite group of the most successful coaches in Mississippi with a high school football record of 262-70-17.

Championships

Mississippi and Tennessee Public Schools

Tombigbee Conference (1958 football, 1959 track)

Shelby County, TN (1960 football)

Eight City of Jackson football titles, twice co-champions

North Big 8 (1961 football)

Big 8 (1965 football)

Central Big 8 (1970 football)

Eight City of Jackson track titles

Seven Big 8 and state track titles

Mississippi Association of Independent Schools AAA

Football Champions 1971, 1972, 1974, and 1992

Track Champions 1971 and 1972

Professional Acknowledgments

BS in History, Mississippi State University (1952)

MS School Administration, Mississippi College (1972)

Collierville (TN) High School Athletic Hall of Fame (1975)

Jack Carlisle Day, Nettleton, MS (1989)

Mississippi Association of Coaches Hall of Fame (1989)

Contribution to Amateur Athletics Award presented by the Central Mississippi Chapter for the National Football Foundation and Hall of Fame (1990, 2003)

Jackson Preparatory School Hall of Fame (1996)

East Mississippi Community College Athletic Hall of Fame (2003)

Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame (2004)

Key to the City of Collierville, TN (2009)

Carlisle Football Field at Nettleton High School (2010)

Jack Carlisle Room of Champions at Jackson Prep (2011)

140 players received college athletic scholarships

Named Coach of the Year 20 times (10 football, 10 track)

Mississippi Association of Independent Schools Coaches Association Hall of Fame (2013)

Ask his players and associates, as I did for this book, and it’s clear that Jack’s grit and determination left indelible impressions and created a treasure chest of memories. Memories, life’s most cherished possessions, are constantly in danger of being stolen by time. Inspiration to write this book came from the thought of losing such rich memories and failing to document the impact made on so many young lives. During family gatherings or with coffee-drinking buddies, it was often suggested that Jack write a book, so he did.

High-spirited, driven people like Jack have a knack for creating compelling stories, both good and bad. We have only scratched the surface of stories here. A conversation with Jack today would likely reveal another print-worthy memory.

Added value always comes when memories are shared. Jack’s playbook is now open to all.

—Walter D. Hubbard

Cactus Jack’s son-in-law

Some of Jack’s Favorite Sayings

Built like Tarzan, play like Jane: simile, athlete with a great physique who makes very little impact on the game.

Cur dog: simile, disparaging term for a person of lower status due to actions of their own (e.g., Don’t you even think about going on a date with that cur dog, Jane!)

Dangest: adj., unusual, unique or peculiar; can be positive or negative (e.g., Then the dangest thing I’ve ever seen happened).

Fact-a-business: interjection, as a matter of fact, actually (e.g., Fact-a-business, they’ll walk if you let ’em).

Gee money: expletive, exclamation of excitement, amazement, urgency (e.g., Gee money, I didn’t know he had it in him!).

If ignorance were bliss, you’d be a blister: expletive, saying often used to describe a person who made a bad decision.

Peanut hull: simile, wide open; reference to an eligible receiver who has separated himself from all defenders (e.g., They took the fake and Mike was open as a peanut hull in the flat).

Rippin: adj., emphasis added (positive or negative), a substitute for profanity.

Tar pit: n., excessive cigarette smoking (e.g., Smoking was not allowed on the sidelines so at halftime I was a tar pit).

Third and long: simile, a difficult, demanding or challenging situation; easier said than done.

Tree full of owls: simile, obnoxious, crazy (e.g., Class, settle down and get quiet, ya’ll are worse than a tree full of owls!).

Tits on a boar hog: simile, of no use whatsoever (e.g., That referee is as worthless as tits on a boar hog).

Pregame

Boyhood: Amory, MS

In 1929, I was born in Amory, MS, the first planned city in Mississippi. Residing there in Frisco Park is one of six Model 4-8-2 1529 Baldwin Locomotives in existence today.

My father Herbert operated the train on its twenty-four-mile route to Fulton. The train then ran in reverse back to Amory the same day. I’d ride with him as a small boy and we’d sometimes stop along the way to bird hunt. Hitchhikers were common. One of my first, close wins in life came when the train jumped the tracks while passing through the river bottom and lodged into the hillside instead of tumbling down into the river.

Old train depot in Amory, MS (2015).

As a teenager and before he had kids, Herbert pitched baseball for the Memphis Chicks (short for Chickasaws). He got $50 a game, $75 if they won. Coincidentally, my mother Estelle had a large dose of Chickasaw blood in her. Herbert quit baseball to help pick cotton and tend to chores back home.

Our family didn’t have much, and hard work was a way of life. Things were simple. We grew our own food and everyone did their share. You just dealt with things on the spot. That no-nonsense type of upbringing still has a big influence on me today.

I remember Herbert coming home one day and being upset at Mother for having me on a leash tied to the front porch. I was five. One of my dastardly deeds that day had been to throw a rock through the church window. When I’m gone tomorrow, you try to do something with him, Estelle told Herbert. Next day, when Estelle got home, there I was, tied to the porch again. Let’s just say I was a busy kid. Being outdoors all day was great for energetic kids like me. Today they use medicine on kids who act like I did.

Herbert died suddenly at age thirty-three when we were eleven (brother), eight (me), six (sister), and five days old (sister). Mother was still bedridden from delivering my sister and couldn’t even attend the funeral. She used my father’s insurance money to buy ten acres ($50/acre) just outside of town from her stepparents. We lived with them in their farmhouse without electricity or plumbing. Kerosene lamps provided our light and wood fires kept us from freezing. We hunted, fished, farmed, and made do just like many folks did back then. I learned to like chicken gizzards because by the time the plate got around to us kids, rarely was there anything else left. Life was simple, but it was pretty good.

Estelle was the toughest woman I ever knew. At age thirty, she was left to raise four children at the peak of the depression. She worked hard in a clothing factory for $1 a day. When World War II broke out, she worked at a munitions factory. How she did all she did, I’ll never know. Us kids were assigned many essential chores before and after school.

Estelle’s stepfather, John Fugua, was about as tough as she was. At five-feet-eight and two hundred pounds, he was solid muscle. A backhand from him was to be avoided. I never saw him show emotion other than anger.

One hot summer day, my brother and I certainly didn’t question why he didn’t have us picking cotton. John had been waiting all morning on the front porch until mid-afternoon when a man from the Agricultural Adjustment Administration rode up on a big horse. Are you John Fuqua? he asked.

Brother and I ran out to get a closer look at this funny-talking fellow. I’m here from the government to check your cotton, he said. John had apparently been brewing all day over his expected visit. As convincingly as his conviction and while looking down the barrel of his big pistol, John said, Nobody tells me what to do with my own land. Get the hell off my property. That incident prevented us from being able to sell our cotton for two years until farming restrictions were lifted during the war. We made one bale in 1938 that brought us $36.

The preacher rotated through our community once a month and families took turns providing him a home-cooked meal. I looked forward to our family’s turn since it meant we’d have banana pudding. As we all sat around the table, John’s wife asked the preacher when he had been called to preach. I was behind a plow one day and it just hit me, he said. I went straight to the barn, put the mule up and went inside to tell my wife.

Without expression, John Fugua said, Mule fart drove many a man to preaching, and kept right on eating.

Somehow, Estelle managed to send us to the good school in town. The walk to school wasn’t that bad, except for the swampy area of tall gum and cypress trees near the farmhouse, especially at dusk on the trek home. The slightest sound, and some not so slight, conjure up many a scary thought in the mind of a young boy walking through the tall, dark trees along a narrow, mushy path where limbs and briars constantly