This is a column about Dave Ferrenburg. If he was here, he would ask me not to write it. He would do it in a friendly, “aw shucks” kind of way, almost apologizing for making a request. But he would ask.
Why?
His life was never about Dave Ferrenburg. His focus was on everyone else. So a column about Dave Ferrenburg?
He would cringe, maybe even whisper, “Judas Priest” or “Dagnabit” or “God bless it.” That’s as close as Ferrenburg came to cursing.
Dave Feeney learned that while playing basketball for him in the 1990s at El Paso High School (now El Paso-Gridley). If Feeney heard, “God bless it, Dave” from his coach, he knew he had messed up.
Yet, he knew Ferrenburg was in his corner. That never changed from the day they met in 1991, Feeney’s freshman year, through last week, when Ferrenburg died unexpectedly on March 11. The beloved athletic director at El Paso-Gridley was 60 years old.
“He would always act like he was so excited to see me,” said Feeney, a teacher and girls head basketball coach at Normal Community. “He always found a way to brag about the people around him and to make the attention about other people.
“The world was a better place with him in it. El Paso was a better town with him in it. I feel very fortunate not only that he was my high school coach, but that he was a friend for me from the time I was 14.”
When they crossed paths, Ferrenburg would tell Feeney he was doing a great job. It could be at a game or a tournament or in the hallway of a nursing home, where Feeney’s mother was recovering from surgery and Ferrenburg’s father was a patient.
“We bumped into each other and it was right back to him being super excited to see you, even on what for him was probably a stressful day and for me was probably a stressful day,” Feeney said. “He made everything feel better. As a coach, that was a gift. Just in life, that’s a pretty special person.”
Feeney learned of Ferrenburg’s death from Normal Community athletic director Nic Kearfott. Kearfott went to Feeney’s classroom to deliver the news.
It hit them hard. Kearfott also played basketball for Ferrenburg at El Paso, graduating three years after Feeney.
“I really enjoyed playing for him, and since then he’s been a friend,” Kearfott said. “Since moving back, it’s been very enjoyable because I’ve been able to have conversations with him from A.D. to A.D.
“He touched so many lives, from when he was a young coach all the way to today. It was not just kids’ lives, but adults, too. He was well-respected in the community and the state of Illinois. He would do anything for you and was always willing to serve others.”
Ferrenburg began his teaching and coaching career with three years at Springfield Ursuline, arriving at El Paso in 1991. After one season as the junior varsity basketball coach, he took over as head coach.
His 11-year run included a 187-102 record with four regional championships. El Paso was 20-5 in Feeney’s senior season of 1994-95 and 20-8 when Kearfott was a senior in 1997-98.
The 1998 squad won the school’s first regional championship in 36 years.
“Our senior class had a bunch of different personalities. He did a great job of getting us all on the same page,” Kearfott said. “A lot of it (the regional title) was due to him and his leadership.”
There was never much yelling. That wasn’t Ferrenburg’s style. Sometimes, there were few words.
Kearfott and his former teammates still joke about some of the timeouts Ferrenburg called. One stands out.
“He said, ‘Judas Priest, fellas! You guys need to figure it out. Team on 3!,” Kearfott said. “We looked at each other like, ‘OK.’”
Such memories flood back when tragedy strikes and Ferrenburg’s death qualifies. He was planning to retire in 2025, in part so he could help next year with the transition to a new athletic director.
Retirement would mean more time to spend with his wife, Kelly, a teacher at EPG, and his daughter, Morgan, a 2017 EPG graduate who lives in Morton.
They mourn his loss along with Morgan’s mother, Susie Vincent, and so many others. Feeney is among them.
“He was an old soul, but he always seemed like he was so full of life,” Feeney said. “I was devastated because he meant so much, but as I told my students the other day, ‘You always just think those people are going to be there.’
“I know Coach Ferrenburg knew to a large degree how much I appreciated him. But you always regret that, ‘Man, I should have said this stuff to him.’ I never would have thought there wasn’t going to be more of a chance to do that.”
Feeney’s favorite memories as a player revolve around the times he and some teammates would want to stay after practice to shoot. Ferrenburg always obliged.
At some point, Ferrenburg would say, ‘Gentlemen, I have to go home.’ He would shut the lights off and, on occasion, Feeney and his friends would hide. It was fun stuff, silly stuff.
But now …
“I look back and I think, ‘We wanted to be there,’” Feeney said. “Part of it was we loved basketball, but a lot more of it was to be around Coach Ferrenburg. He was such a good person and always made you feel special.
“I got better as a basketball player I’m sure, but I think I just got better as a human by being around him.”
How’s that for a legacy? It’s the gold standard, and Tim Fairchild saw it play out often.
Fairchild went against Ferrenburg as head coach at Gridley. The schools were rivals, the coaches were friends. When El Paso and Gridley merged in 2004, Ferrenburg became the high school athletic director and Fairchild the junior high A.D.
They were like family and worked well together.
“He was a deep thinker,” Fairchild said. “He would take time to process situations. When you got the information from Dave or the guidance, you knew he had really reflected on it. He did that beautifully.
“One of the most important jobs of an athletic director is the way you represent your school at conference meetings and IHSA meetings. We couldn’t have had anybody better. We just couldn’t have. He represented us in a classy way. Always. Behind the scenes, he was that good, too. It wasn’t a show. That’s who he was.”
Bill Gaddis knew it before most of us. Gaddis was Ferrenburg’s basketball coach at Danvers Elementary School and for four years at Olympia High School … first on the JV level and then as head coach.
If Ferrenburg ever had a bad day, Gaddis never knew.
“He was always the same,” Gaddis said. “He had a good sense of humor and he had that little grin … just a nice person all the way around. He took people as they were and was a loving guy to everybody.
“I’d say, ‘David, you need to shoot a little bit more.’ He’d kind of smile and say, ‘Yeah, I know.’ But he wanted to make sure everybody got to share the ball on the team.”
From sixth grade to the day he died, Ferrenburg called Gaddis “coach,” never Bill. He loved and respected his former coach, treasured the lessons learned from him.
Gaddis choked up talking about it. Ferrenburg’s loss leaves a void in his heart.
“He was an easy guy to like,” Gaddis said.
Writers write about people like that. So this column was about you, Dave, and also for you.
Hope you understand.
