The first time I ever met Dwight Smith was at a Karns vs Doyle baseball game. I’d ridden with the Pioneers on the bus and sat in the dugout with the team. Several of the Doyle players were in my English class, and I’d promised to watch them play. I didn’t know at the time, but I was about to meet one of the “true characters” in the Knoxville area.
The game hadn’t been going long before a skinny, “bird-legged” man came tearing out of his dugout to dispute a call. Dwight was infamous for crawling all over every umpire when he thought a wrong had been done to his team. As he squalled out at the injustice, the coach jutted out his chin only inches from the umpire’s face, put his hands on his hips, and stuck out his elbow until his arms resembled chicken wings, and stood in a ready-to-fight stance. I looked at Bobby Campbell, the Doyle coach, and muttered, “What a jerk!” Bobby replied, “Nope, That’s just Dwight being Dwight.
My next encounter with the Chief, a name either he or his players bestowed upon him, was in the faculty dining room at Karns High, where I had moved to teach. Dwight and a table of coaches were eating and talking, and they invited me to sit with them. The man was in the middle of some kind of argument with Ernie, another coach. Suddenly, Mount Dwight erupted, and I thought punches would begin raining down any time. However, in another minute or two, everyone was again sitting at the table and having a good time as if nothing had happened.
Dwight Smith became one of my best buddies at Karns. The common thread was baseball. I liked the game; Dwight loved it. I could sit and listen to him tell stories and give tips forever. His players didn’t feel the same. Chief would begin practice in the gym during cold weather. Teams assembled at one end and waited for him to come out. Then the talk began, and more than once, Dwight rattled on for 45 minutes or more. He’d talk about techniques or personal skills, and then he’d switch to a long discussion about his philosophy on something and always included personal events to prove his points. Some players nodded off and had to awakened to begin practices.
Those daily sessions could be brutal. Boys ran and batted and defended, and Dwight managed to critique any player on the field, especially when a mistake was made. Yelling at players was part of his instructional method. The man also used sarcasm to deliver his displeasure with a play or an at-bat. Today’s players can’t take what Dwight and other coaches of his era gave out at practice. However, the instruction stuck, and his players developed into some of the finest athletes on a baseball diamond. What Dwight did was chew players behinds out, but at the end of the growling, he always put his hand on the backs of their necks and gave them squeezes or slapped the butts to let them know he loved them.
Saturday, January 22, Dwight Smith was inducted into the Tennessee Baseball Coaches’ Association Hall of Fame. The event was held in Franklin, Tennessee. A dinner marked the end of the weekend coaches’ clinic. At that time awards to state champions and outstanding players were passed out. For me, the highlight of the day was knowing that Dwight had been inducted into something that gave him the recognition he wanted and certainly did deserve. It was confirmation that he was one of the best baseball coaches in the state.
Dwight Smith’s impact on players has been tremendous. Even younger players have come to appreciate Chief and his yelling, complaining, and storytelling at summer baseball camps. College coaches have come to work with those young players because they are friends with Dwight. After those camps, as well as after practices and on weekends, I can see in my mind a bird-legged, hairy chested man raising a cloud of dust as he raked the infield. Dwight has done it all and loved every minute of it.
Over the past few years, Dwight has faced some health issues, and his strength has been sapped enough for him to use a walker. He speaks slower now, and perhaps that’s a good thing; otherwise, he might still be talking to Saturday’s crowd. How important has Dwight Smith been to baseball and to his teams? Ask the nearly 20 former players who took a Saturday to congratulate their favorite coach for being inducted to the Hall of Fame and for the things he did to help them become better men. We should all hope to have such an impact.
Dwight, you deserve being inducted in the HOF. My final hope is that beside your name is a photo of you wearing those shorts and socks you loved so much. Congratulations friend!
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