For coach, football comes first

He has stood on the Summerville sideline for what seems like forever. He has won more games than anyone else. He's old, 82. Every year could be his last. But John McKissick knows — there's no place he'd rather be. This is the seventh in an eight-part series.

Previously: Summerville has beaten Beaufort to secure its third straight region title.

It's a heckuva ride.

John McKissick drives a golf cart, more of a sports cart, really, to get around Summerville's five practice fields. It's painted Summerville green and gold with 10-inch rims and glossy, deep-threaded Sahara King tires.

He hops off, chats with his coaches and brings his players tight. It's Monday practice, a day before the election, four days until the regular-season finale against Colleton County.

McKissick talks business, running down Colleton. Two points he neglects: Colleton is the weakest team in Summerville's region, and Summerville has already confirmed a playoff berth.

"I've never had an easy game in the 55 years I've been here," McKissick barks.

He's wrong, of course. He's been here 57 years. And in all this time, he's never had this happen: Three players want to skip practice on Tuesday to work the election polls.

McKissick doesn't understand. "You can't put the election in front of football," he mutters. You can't put much in front of football.

At Presbyterian, McKissick broke his right pinky during a game. The bone was sticking through. McKissick jogged over to the sideline and had the trainer come over. It's just one finger, the trainer said coolly, you've still got nine. He taped it up; McKissick kept playing.

Converse Chellis, McKissick's quarterback in the late '50s, was out sick once. McKissick yanked him out of class the next morning. Where were you yesterday?

"I was sick."

"What do you mean you were sick? You're here today."

"Yes sir, but I'm not sick today," Chellis told him.

"But what am I going to do on Friday if you're sick?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're my quarterback," McKissick said, "and if you're sick, how are you gonna play that night?"

"I won't be sick on Friday, I guess."

"If you're not gonna be sick on Friday, then why were you sick yesterday?"

McKissick kept at it, talking in circles. Chellis figured it out.

"I never missed another day of class."

The practices were hellish then. McKissick forbade water, hard to imagine, but typical for many high school and collegiate football programs. Sometimes the guys slipped a drink. A few linemen would hide lemons inside their helmets and suck the juice when they could.

"If he caught you doing any of that," Chellis says, "you'd have to run extra wind sprints."

McKissick had bruises all over. He seldom wore a shirt when it was warm, just shorts and shoes. He got down in the trenches, face-to-face, belly-to-belly, roughhousing with the boys. It was his way of explaining things.

He used to smoke on the sidelines too, cigars and cigarettes. Then he switched to Dentyne gum.

And the kids today - they need more honey than vinegar.

At practice, he pulls aside DeAngelo Henderson, his sophomore running back. He wraps an arm around his shoulder, like a granddad. He's gotten a note from one of Henderson's teachers. Henderson had fallen asleep during class.

"You've got a 94 in that class, but you still shouldn't be sleeping," he chides.

His running back looks down, sheepish. "No sir. I'm sorry." McKissick smiles, pats him on the helmet, shoulder pads, and sends him on.

He's had his battles with kids through the years, he'll be the first to tell you, the ones who want earrings or want to grow their hair long, just like any other student. But that's his point: They aren't any other student.

"It's the last game of the season. It's a homecoming game," McKissick says at the end of the Monday practice. "Carolina's playing at home. Clemson's playing. Every college in the United States is playing. They ain't gonna take a day off because it's an election."

The context isn't lost, at least not on him.

Reach Rob Young at ryoung@postandcourier.com or 937-5518.

TOMORROW: The finale