The Life Story of a Division I Collegiate Athlete

By Randall Minix

The Life Story of a Division I Collegiate Athlete is a summary of my life experiences as a young man and the many athletic successes and failures I had throughout my life. Detailed in this book are all the personal life experiences and my athletic successes that enabled me to earn a Division I scholarship to VA Tech. The book also includes twenty-four years of my personal softball playing seeking a Christian's men's softball team capable of ultimately winning the church's division I state softball championship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644682678

Book preview

Chapter 1

Introduction

To write or not to write! I choose to write.

A statement of fact—not all jocks are dumb. I graduated from Virginia Technical Institute (which I will refer to as VA Tech) with distinction, with a major in accounting (3.75 GPA) and a minor in English. I passed the Uniform CPA examination on my first attempt. Only one in ten can accomplish this feat. Conclusion, I am not dumb, so I have some interesting things to say.

I was born in 1950 and lived in a little community thirty miles south of Lynchburg, Virginia, known as Naruna. Naruna was a community with two grocery stores, a gas station, a railroad terminal, and a population of around seven hundred people. Our Entering and Leaving signs were on the same signpost. There was no reason to stop in Naruna, except for gas or groceries.

My first recollection of life was when my mother was giving me a bath in the kitchen sink. My grandparents, parents, my brother who is three years older than me, and myself all lived in Naruna. My father’s parents lived with us. In those days, you didn’t put your parents in a retirement home. They lived with the child who was to inherit the homestead, which in our case happened to be my dad. I don’t ever remember having a conversation with my grandfather, but my grandmother was someone special. Due to the witness of my parents and especially my grandmother, they were primarily responsible for my acceptance of Jesus Christ as my Savior at a relatively young age.

This conversion experience greatly influenced the rest of my life in all areas. Back in those days, the pastor of our church, Reverend Wallace, made weekly in-home visits to the shut-ins of the church, which included my grandparents. When Reverend Wallace prepared to read the scriptures, my grandmother would call out, Samuel [this was my dad], our pastor is going to read the scriptures. This simply meant stop whatever you were doing and come to my grandparents’ bedroom. No exceptions. This weekly scripture reading and related prayer time greatly influenced my own conversion.

My grandparents had both passed away by the time I was in the seventh grade, so they never knew Randy, the athlete.

Chapter 2

Parents

I learned all of my parenting skills from my parents. Shouting, disagreements, cursing, separation, and finally divorce are all a normal part of today’s society. But this was not the case in the Minix family. My mom and dad loved each other, and it was clearly demonstrated in our daily life. They were married for over fifty years, never apart. My love for them was endless. In high school, I played mostly basketball for four years. They never missed a single game. While at VA Tech for four years, they never missed a home game. After taking my shower and dressing, I would come out of the locker room, and who was waiting for me? My parents.

As loving as they were, they also believed in discipline for bad behavior, doing something we were told not to do, fighting between brothers, or disrespect for Mother or Blanche (you will learn about her in the next chapter).

There were three types of discipline applied. First, we were sent to our rooms for a set time based on the level of discipline. Secondly, for minor offenses, Mom would deal with it herself. She would make me and my brother Gerry go outside and cut our own switches and bring them back to her. She would switch our legs until red whelps appeared. How long? Again based on the level of disobedience. Thirdly, the worst words I ever heard from my mom’s lips were, Go to your room. Your father will deal with you when he gets home. This was reserved for major disobedience. And my dad always dealt with us. One thing you need to understand is that the physical discipline was what we call a spanking and never crossed the line to physical abuse.

My parents lived lives that were an excellent example for me and Gerry. In my life, I never saw my parents take a drink of alcohol, and there were no such beverages allowed in our home. Neither of my parents smoked. This example held true in both the lives of me and Gerry. Neither of us drink nor smoke nor allowed such items in our households.

Both Gerry and I have two children each. Gerry has two sons and I have a daughter and a son. To the best of my knowledge, none of our children drink or smoke. They have been wonderful parents themselves, using the same parenting skills passed down through our family. What a wonderful experience it is to have children and so special to have grandchildren. My son’s daughter, Clara, has the Minix athletic gene. I can already see that athletic ability and competitive drive in her eyes.

Before my parents died, if I had some important decision to make or was worried about something, I would discuss it first with my wife Patricia and then I would call Dad and Mom. My dad died at age eighty-four and my mom at age eighty-three. Both of my parents died during a period of deep depression in my life. When I recovered from my depression, the first thing I said to my wife was I wanted to go home and tell my parents. My dad had been in depression for the last ten years of his life. No medical doctor had been able to help him. My wife had to remind me that both of my parents had died during my last five years in deep depression. However, she told me that Gerry, who also had been in depression, and I had done everything that was necessary and proper for our parents’ funerals and our conduct was completely proper. Even today, if I have an important decision to make, just for a brief second, I think about calling Dad and Mom and then I realize that they have been dead for over twenty years. Old habits are hard to break.

I remember on one occasion being really mad with Dad. The Minix household was always a dog family. Initially, we had two dogs, Brownie, a male Golden Retriever, and Lady, a female mutt. Between the two, we had at least one litter of puppies a year, generally around eight puppies. The responsibility in giving these puppies away was Mom and Dad’s, mostly Dad’s. After numerous years, Dad got tired of puppies. There was no vet in the county to fix Lady and cost was also a problem. Dad’s answer to the problem was to get rid of Lady. Without talking to me or Gerry, Dad got up one morning to leave for work at 5:30 a.m. He loaded Lady up with him, drove halfway to Lynchburg, stopped the car, and kicked her out. Then it happened. When Dad pulled off in his car, Lady began to follow him. Every time he looked back, Lady was still coming. She kept coming as long as Dad could see her in his rearview mirror. When Gerry and I got up for breakfast, we went to feed Brownie and Lady. Lady did not come. We called and called. No Lady. We quickly went to the nearby highway to see if she had been hit by a car but found nothing. As I was only six, I began to cry convinced someone had taken