2009 NCAA Coaches Tour Airmen's Diary Part 3 of 3 (Part 1 | Part 2)

by 2nd Lt. Nicholas Mercurio
22nd Air Refueling Wing Public Affairs

6/25/2009 - MCCONNELL AIR FORCE BASE, Kan. -- Editor's note: This is the final article in a series of three articles depicting the daily events of the 2009 NCAA Coaches Tour, May 27 - June 4.

Background: The 2009 NCAA Coaches Tour: three continents, six countries, nine days. Six active NCAA football coaches: Mack Brown (Texas), Jim Tressel (Ohio State), Rick Neuheisel (UCLA), Troy Calhoun (Air Force), Houston Nutt (Ole Miss) and Jim Grobe (Wake Forest), led by coach emeritus Tommy Tuberville, traveled nearly 17,000 miles, visiting servicemen and women in Germany, Turkey, Iraq, Kuwait, Djibouti, and Spain. The following is a daily account of my experiences with the tour.

Monday, June 1
Footsteps echoed off the marble walls as the coaches made their way to breakfast, casting glances at the gilded furniture and absentmindedly running their fingers along an elegant wooden table that stretched nearly 30 feet down the center of the room. The view through the windows of the breakfast area was dominated by Al-Faw Palace, a monument to the former regime's excess perched at the edge of a vast man-made lake. The coaches visited the palace, which serves as the headquarters for Multinational Forces Iraq, after eating. They were then led on a tour of the Army side of the Green Zone featuring the stops we had become accustomed to. I was amazed by their steadfast motivation; we had arrived after midnight and the coaches did not see their beds until after one that morning. They were tired from a demanding schedule and lack of sleep and yet each and every service member was greeted with a vigorous handshake and a warm smile.

The capstone event was held that evening as the soldiers got the once in a lifetime opportunity to run wide receiver drills with the coaches. Coach Brown taught the routes from the middle of the dirt field as Coach Neuheisel and Coach Nutt threw to the soldiers as they executed hitches and posts. Coach Tressel and Coach Calhoun critiqued the routes as they were run, backpedaling like a cornerback for the first five yards. After a sensational one-handed catch in the "endzone", the usually demure Coach Tressel sprinted up to the soldier, chest-bumping and high fiving him for a great effort. It was an experience he would surely never forget.

Later that evening, several of the coaches enjoyed a moment of quiet conversation, sitting in the still desert air and looking across the water at the well-lit palace. They reflected on the journey so far, talked about what was going on back home, and marveled at the position they were in, puffing lightly on cigars on Saddam Hussein's back porch. The next morning Coach Nutt and Coach Neuheisel would hit a few golf balls off that same terrace from an improvised driving range, bringing the surrealism full circle. We then boarded a C-17 and traveled to Kuwait to meet up with the KC-135 and our McConnell crew to head to Africa.

Tuesday, June 2
We spent approximately four hours on the ground in Kuwait before traveling to Djibouti, arriving in the afternoon. Djibouti is a place of extremes; where the upper and lower limits as applied to all manner things exist with an immense gap in between. The ride from the plane to the front gates of Camp Lemonier took us outside the wire where we witnessed the huge divide between the haves and have-nots. We drove down paved roads lined with whitewashed houses nestled into compounds protected by armed guards and high walls. These paved streets led to dirt roads lined with garbage heaps punctuated occasionally by shanties built from whatever was lying around and held together by a combination of nails, tape, string, and desperation. The base itself juxtaposed retrofitted cargo containers and tents which served as lodging against a two-story bar/lounge complete with patio seating that would not have looked out of place if it were on a side-street in Atlanta as opposed to Africa. American soldiers, sailors, Marines, and airmen walked alongside their counterparts from Japan while French fighter jets roared into flight. The whole place seemed to be afflicted by randomness. Yet, amidst the poverty, sweltering heat and ever present threat of mosquitoes the coaches found a familiar sight: a strikingly green artificial turf field, which stood shimmering like a mirage surrounded by a sea of brown.

The coaches seemed content with the field underfoot as they coached the Air Force/Army vs. Navy/Marine Corps football game. Under the lights that evening all thoughts of the places they had been, the flights, the people they had met and the things they had seen and done, faded into the encroaching darkness. It was just another night game, another group of young people feeding off their charisma, thriving on their enthusiasm. For about two hours on a summer night in Africa, they were home.

Wednesday, June 3
While the McConnell aircrew had been impressive throughout the trip, they really shined as we left Djibouti for Rota, Spain. The temperature in the KC-135 as we taxied down the ramp probably reached 130 degrees which, to those who have never experienced it, is a new kind of hot; oppressive, inescapable, and withering. However, once we were airborne our crew supplied everyone with towels which had been kept in a cooler of ice-water, a personal touch indicative of how they always went the extra mile. After the cold towel and an obligatory change of clothes, we were ready for Spain.

U.S. Naval Station Rota is situated on the Atlantic coast of Spain and is known as the "Gateway to the Mediterranean." As soon as we had landed it felt as if we had turned a corner. The stress of travel and the undercurrent of danger we had known downrange lifted from our shoulders as if it had evaporated into the salt air. The mood of everyone we encountered at the meet and greet was relaxed and it had dawned on everyone that our journey was almost at an end. The following day at Andrews AFB, Md. the coaches would part ways and most of the staff would depart as well, leaving a small contingent for the final leg back to McConnell. That evening we all enjoyed an extravagant celebration dinner at an oceanfront restaurant, course after course punctuated by laughter as we shared stories from the trip. We had all bonded on this trip in one way or another and we would be returning to the United States the following day forever changed by our experience. Fittingly it was with a mixture of joy and sadness that we left the restaurant that night and prepared for the flight home.

Thursday, June 4
Landing at Andrews in the morning we were greeted by grey skies and a slight drizzle. We stepped off the airplane in a daze; worn out, jet-lagged and anxious to be heading home. After the luggage was separated and the coaches retrieved their belongings we posed for one last round of photos. The coaches were led into the Distinguished Visitor's lounge and waited to be taken to the airport to board commercial flights. They shook hands with the members of the team, exchanged information and expectations of visits, and one by one parted ways. As the doors closed behind the last coach so ended my great adventure, the significance of which I suspected I would not truly grasp for a long time. Reflecting on it now I see how truly lucky I am to have known all the members of the team, how incredible our journey really was, and how blessed and humbled I am to serve in the world's greatest Air Force.