Mattingly: Kerin's influence came through loudly

There is respect, and then there's respect. "R-E-S-P-E-C-T," as Aretha Franklin sang so many times over the years.

Here's a wonderful example.

The Tennessee football team was flying home one Saturday night after a game in the late 1980s or early 1990s. From start to finish, game days are always exhausting, particularly in another time zone. Everyone seemed anxious to be off the plane and doing something else.

That was evident before the plane landed, long after the two sandwiches, bag of chips, apple, large Snickers bar, and PowerAde drinks had been consumed, even before coach Phillip Fulmer made his usual remarks about how proud he was of the team's performance that afternoon or evening and, please, don't get into any trouble tonight or over the rest of the weekend.

The pilot announced the final approach into Knoxville, south to north, and the plane landed without incident, maybe with one big bounce. Turned out there was some delay getting the plane to the gate, but there were already players and staff in the aisle getting their stuff out of the overhead compartment.

In a very nice way, the pilot said that everyone had to be in their assigned seat before the plane could taxi to the gate.

No one moved a muscle. The pilot made the announcement again. No one moved.

Finally head trainer Tim Kerin had the last word, really the last two words.

"SIT DOWN!"

It was a command of Biblical proportions.

Everybody who was standing up sat down. Immediately. The plane got to the gate, with everybody disembarking and making their way to the buses going to Gibbs Hall.

That incident came to mind on an early August day in 1992, when there were hushed conversations and ashen faces all across Stokely Center. Tim had died that morning, with doctors later calling the cause of death a "dissecting aortic aneurysm." That was a blow to the Vol program in more than one way.

Tim was a prime John Majors confidante since the days at Pittsburgh. Not only was he head trainer, but he also understood the dynamics involved in a big-time college football program. His was a voice of reason, a voice of integrity, a significant voice in the community, particularly on the Metropolitan Drug Commission.

In the intervening days, the University of Tennessee named the training room in the Neyland-Thompson Center in his honor and memory.

Thinking back, the 366 days of 1992 were not the most glorious in the program's history.

In the Fiesta Bowl on Jan. 1, Penn State took a 42-17 decision, after the Vols had led 17-7 halfway into the third quarter. A spate of turnovers killed Tennessee's chances. The coaching staff was not at all a happy group.

During the spring, Majors had heart problems while in Milan and was rushed to Memphis. Things never did get in sync on the Big Orange Caravan, with raised voices at a stop in Nashville, the foreshadowing of internal problems that would surface later.

One day in August, 10 days or so after Tim died, Majors left practice early, with the media being told it was for a doctor's appointment. That was correct as far as it went. The next morning, a local radio station announced Majors was undergoing heart surgery. He missed the first three games of the season, with Fulmer being appointed interim head coach.

It probably didn't help that Majors came back before anyone expected, just a day after a 31-14 win over Florida, the second win over the Gators in three years.

It also didn't help at all that the schedule-maker had made things significantly worse. There were successive losses to Arkansas and Alabama and open dates before and after a one-point loss at South Carolina. That game pops up on a regular basis on SportSouth Classic.

Then came a trip to Memphis, where Majors stepped down as coach on Friday the 13th, at the Wilson World Hotel. Vol fans lined the hotel's hallway, many near tears, hoping to catch a glimpse of a Tennessee legend's history-making announcement.

Thoughtful people close to the program believe had Tim been alive, things might have transpired much differently, considering the influence he had on Majors. No one could even speculate, then or now, how the history of the program might have changed.

Here's the bottom line, a subtle, but telling, testimony to Tim's life and example.

You want to know about influence and respect?

When no one else could make a tired group of Tennessee football players sit down at the end of a long charter flight, all it took was Tim Kerin making the request.

When he did so, they sat down.

That was Tim Kerin.

A man whose influence and integrity live on in the history of Tennessee football.

Tom Mattingly authored "The Tennessee Football Vault: The Story of the Tennessee Volunteers, 1891-2006" (2006), to be published in second edition in June 2009, and "Tennessee Football: The Peyton Manning Years" (1998). He may be reached at tjmshm@comcast.net. His News Sentinel blog is called "The Vol Historian."