Dick Luther is more than just a coach, more than a friend, and more than a teacher. He is family. He has been there in my life for events that don’t deal with basketball and given me (as well as hundreds if not thousands of others) lessons on what it takes to be mentally and physically tough.

Growing up in Waukesha, Wisconsin, Coach came in and taught my gym class. I remember my elementary school gym class including the multi-colored parachute, the four-wheeled rollers, and of course, school dodgeball. Coach Luther made class fun and enjoyable, no matter what we did.

Once my family and I moved into the Arrowhead school district (about a 25-minute drive) he wasn’t going to be teaching my gym class, but those exciting games, competitive attitude, and lessons stuck with me. The most important was his lesson on toughness. Being tough is something that plays an important role in my life. But he didn’t stop there.

Coaching in over 1,000 games and holding 3,500 plus practices in his almost 54 years of coaching isn’t where he stopped. Five championship rings aren’t where he stopped. Holding his own basketball camps that my Dad attended when he was a kid isn’t where he stopped. And being inducted in the WIAA coaching hall of fame isn’t where he stopped.

He was always there for me. Even when I stopped pursuing basketball and started wrestling, where he was in the stands, cheering and supporting. Even when I went to the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater for camps, there he was, guest speaking about toughness and overcoming adversity. He talked about his daughter Robyn and how she had been a great student-athlete growing up. Starting life with three kids and a career, her life was going well. Then on May 18th, 2017, she got diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme, a terminal brain cancer that has her fighting for her life every day. I remember how stern he was when he talked about her. Normally he slouched 5 foot 3 inches on a good day, but when he talked about Robyn, he stood 6 feet tall and as straight as a board. After countless MRI’s and months of radiation, she is still fighting. “That is toughness,” he said. “She is the toughest person I know, and tougher than I will ever be.”

This taught me that if she can be battling brain cancer every day, working, raising her kids, and never complains about a thing, then I can be mentally and physically tough with my life.

Dick Luther is more than just a coach, more than a friend, and more than a teacher. He is family. He is my grandfather.

Coach would tease me about being “out of the will” when he dies for “quitting basketball for wrestling,” but still drives any distance to see me compete. He is the greatest educator I know and I am both lucky and proud to wear the name Luther on my back every day.