John Schlarman’s Greatest Legacy

“My daddy’s sick. Is your daddy sick?” asks the happily naïve Evelyn Schlarman. “No. My daddy’s working,” replies my equally naïve son. And with that, the two go back to playing.

Evelyn’s daddy wasn’t merely sick, he was in the final days of his valiant fight against cancer. Evelyn is only four. While the many remembrances of her great father were being written, I found myself praying that she will simply remember her father. Regardless of her memory, his memory is alive in her, his three sons Matt (9), Ben (11), and Joe (14), and his widow, LeeAnne.

The moment LeeAnne knew she wanted to marry John was when he first introduced her to his family. It was a dinner at O’Charley’s, an otherwise unremarkable occasion, but what LeeAnne observed was remarkable. A man who loved, respected, and delighted in his family in a way she had never seen.

She wanted to marry a man like that, knowing that she and her future children would be loved like that. And John never failed to live up to that original vision LeeAnne had of their future.

Coaching football, especially in the obsessively competitive SEC, is a notoriously all-consuming affair, and it’s no surprise that the coach’s family is often the casualty of those demands. John Schlarman was able to do what many never thought possible at UK—recruit and develop an elite SEC offensive line. Even more astounding? He did it all while building an even more impressive family.

John loved coaching football, this much everyone knows. But what I want the public to know is that John loved his family even more. I understand that’s customary to say when eulogizing the deceased, but I don’t say it because of custom, I say it because it’s true. The Schlarmans are our neighbors. As I write this, I can hear Evelyn and Matt playing with my kids just outside my home office door. They are remarkably polite and pleasant, the indelible marks of well-fathered children.

When I asked Joe Schlarman what he remembers most about his dad, his answer was refreshingly ordinary, “Playing Madden and tackle football in the basement, or him just making up silly games like throwing the ball over the house trying to get it to land on the trampoline.” You see, any father can take a week off and treat his family to a vacation, but it’s in the mundane where children are truly nurtured and developed. Of course, John gave his family amazing experiences, but more importantly, he gave them his mundane faithfulness.

LeeAnne is quick to give Coach Stoops credit for creating a culture where coaches are allowed to prioritize family, but that doesn’t mean a coach has to take advantage of it. There is always more work to be done, and even when home, there is the persistent excuse of a high-pressured job to justify a detached presence. But not so with John. LeeAnne said it best, “He always made sure that he separated the football at work from the football at home.” Meaning, no matter the demands of UK football, he always prioritized coming home, getting on his knees in the basement, and playing Schlarman football with his boys.

If you’ve heard UK offensive linemen speak of their coach, then chances are you’ve heard the language of a father figure. While we rightfully celebrate that about him, I asked Joe how it landed on him? Was he threatened by all these young men speaking of his father as their father? Did he feel like he had to compete with football for his dad’s attention? Without hesitation, “No. Not at all. I’ve never had that thought.” Leeanne interjected, “John just always came home and loved being home more than anywhere else.”

But the father his children knew was, shall we say, somewhat different from the father his linemen knew. Fun, goofy, and affectionate, these are the words that repeatedly come up when his family remembers him, not necessarily the traits you would expect from the man who built the toughest, meanest offensive line in the SEC.

It’s the affection, in particular, that sticks out in LeeAnne’s memories, “He would always say to the boys, ‘Come over here for a hug and kiss.’”

“John,” she would interrupt, “Your dad would never have asked you for a kiss at their age!”

“I don’t care. I want to kiss my son.”

It’s that unashamed affection that LeeAnne once teased him for that she now misses the most.

And then there’s precious Evelyn, John’s truest soft spot. “You’re going to have to discipline that girl, ‘cause I’m not,” he would say to LeeAnne, “I’m just going to give her whatever she wants.” And that’s exactly what she got from her dad, whatever she wanted.

And so, when you consider the nobility of this man as a devoted husband, father, and yes, coach, John Schlarman’s death is a gut-wrenching tragedy. As a pastor, I routinely deal with the “Why God?” moments of people’s lives, but this might be the biggest “Why God?” of them all. And yet remarkably, the one most likely to ask that question didn’t. If you open John’s Bible to Romans 8, three sections are highlighted:

“We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God; those who are called according to his purpose…If God is for us, who is against us…For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor heights, nor depth, nor any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!”

In the margins of that page, he wrote down his personal response to those breathtaking promises: “God’s got me. Don’t flinch!” As one who has preached through every word of Romans 8, I can’t think of a better summation of that chapter of Scripture.

Indeed, John Schlarman never flinched. As a coach, as a father, and as a husband, he endured a grueling two-year battle with cancer with unflinching resolve. Even unto his last moment, when he used his last breaths, to gather the strength for one last word to his family, “I love you.”

With sincere respect to his amazing legacy as a football player and coach, those three words reserved for those special people will remain his greatest legacy of all.

“God’s got me. Don’t flinch!” Such an audacious faith in the midst of so much suffering. But John Schlarman’s faith was not in vain. God does have him, now more than ever. Or as Evelyn now tends to say, “My daddy’s not sick. My daddy’s in heaven.”

Robert Cunningham is the Senior Pastor of Tates Creek Presbyterian Church. You can reach out with comments or questions at [email protected] and follow him on twitter @tcpcrobert