Terrell Lester
June 13, 2009 — L.D. Bains saw early on the advantages of playing sports. The youngest of seven children, he was reared on a farm near Chelsea.
“The reason I played ball was, I didn't have to do chores at home,” he said.
The family moved from the 320-acre spread into Chelsea when L.D. was entering the ninth grade.
He had one coach from junior through his graduation in 1953 — Rupert Cross.
“And he had a big influence on my life,” Bains said.
Between the positive impact Cross made on him, and the work ethic Bains brought with him from the farm, L.D. became the first member of his family to seek, and ultimately obtain, a college degree.
“If I hadn't gone to college, I'd be working on the farm in Chelsea, or in the oil fields,” he said. “But I made up my mind I was going to college.”
Not only did L.D. Bains make it to college, but also he made a name for himself in college.
Playing football, he earned all-conference honors at two institutions and earned that sought-after degree. Then he became a giant among Oklahoma high school coaches.
He was a head coach for 35 years, leaving his footprints in the sand along the way before his retirement in 1997.
Bains coached at Ringling, Hugo, Miami and Sand Springs, and was selected to coach in the 1965 Oil Bowl and the 1973 All-State game. He was elected president of the Oklahoma Coaches Association and served during the school year of 1971-72.
In 1990, he was inducted into the OCA Hall of Fame.
Now 74 and living in Tulsa, Bains recently reflected on his days in Chelsea and his childhood friend Ralph Terry.
Their careers might have taken separate paths — Terry chose baseball, Bains chose football — but in Chelsea, they were known for whatever sport was in season.
“Nobody ever told us anything, we just went from one sport to the next,” Bains said.
“I'd have been afraid not to play. It was expected of you.
“Guys like me, and Ralph Terry, we didn't have anything else to do.
“But there wasn't anything else we wanted to do.”
Cross was the coach. The only coach. Head football coach. Head boys and girls basketball coach. Head baseball coach. He had one assistant, in football.
“It still amazes me how he did all that, with one assistant in football,” Bains says.
“The football season was over with on Friday night, well, we're in the gym Monday afternoon. All of us. When would he have put all that equipment up? I wondered about that after I got out of school.
“Then, after basketball season was over, on Friday night, we were out playing catch on Saturday morning, getting ready for baseball.”
Bains played every sport. Cross coached every sport.
With the influence of Cross, and the example he set, Bains wanted to follow a like path.
Terry signed a professional baseball contract and by 1960, he was pitching in the World Series with the New York Yankees.
That's the same year that Bains took his first coaching job — as an assistant at Okmulgee.
Bains had accepted a scholarship and played three seasons at the University of Tulsa. He was an all-Missouri Valley Conference tight end his junior year under coach Bobby Dobbs before transferring to Northeastern State to play for first-year coach Tuffy Stratton.
Bains again made all-conference before graduating in 1957.
After one year at Okmulgee, Bains had attracted the interest of schools looking for head coaches.
They were not always schools or towns that he recognized.
Ringling, in Jefferson County, made him an offer in 1961. “I had to look it up on the map,” he said, laughing.
A couple of years later, he was courted by the superintendent at Hugo. Bains had to ask the superintendent: “Where's Hugo?”
Bains took both jobs. And had success at each stop.
He might not have known much about Ringling, but as the football coach, he quickly put Ringling on the map. His first team went 10-0.
“I said to my wife, 'There ain't nothing to this coaching. Whoever told me it was hard?'”
The townspeople of Ringling took up a collection and presented him a little gift of $250 for his efforts.
As Bains likes to say, “Then, reality set in the second year.” He went 5-5, and then answered the call from Hugo.
Bains arrived in 1963 remained through 1969, when he delivered a district championship.
But he had tired of the burden of classroom teaching and on-field coaching.
He moved to Miami in 1970 to become director of athletics in addition to coaching football.
It was at Miami that Bains experienced a couple of life-altering situations.
First, in February 1972, he suffered a stroke. The Miami booster club chartered a plane to take Bains to a Tulsa hospital. He remained there for about five days before being released and returning to work.
“It scared hell out of me, but I have not had a problem since then,” Bains said.
“It didn't slow me down for long.”
He and the Wardogs reached the state finals the next season and had two other semifinals finishes.
Ten years after the stroke, in 1982, Bains was asked if he would take the position of high school assistant principal.
He agreed, and turned his football program over to longtime assistant Archie Loehr.
He moved into a new office, a new world.
And did not take kindly to it.
“By Labor Day, I knew I had screwed up,” Bains said. “I told my wife (Peggy), we're going to be coaching somewhere next fall. And I don't really care where it is.”
As luck would have it, in the spring of 1983, Sand Springs offered just what Bains was seeking. A football coaching job and the role of athletics director.
In 1987, Bains and the Sandites reached the Class 5A semifinals.
He finally retired at the age of 62, but he continues to keep an eye on the football scene he has walked for so many years.
“I am really impressed with what the high school football coaches are doing today,” he said. “They are improving the game.
“I think the game, with the 10 days of spring practice, and the dedication of these coaches, the game is better now than it was 12 years ago,” he said.
“The best thing about coaching is all the fine football players I've had the privilege to work with. They've given me some fond memories.”
L.D. Bains created some fond memories himself.
He was asked if his initials, L.D., were an abbreviation for his given name.
“No, just L.D.,” he said. “I guess after six children, my mother just ran out of names.”
