A Tribute to a Teammate

Driving west on Missouri Highway 19, twenty miles outside of Hannibal, I type the words "white house" into a text message and hit “send” to my brother. I pass by this small white house and then through the rural town of Center, Missouri in a matter of seconds.

On the receiving end of the text, my brother Jaryt knows exactly what the message means. He understands where I am. More importantly, we both appreciate the importance of the small home, quietly tucked at the far edge of a town of 500 residents. For most people, it is easy to miss. Not so for my brother and I. We understand the lasting impact of both tradition and tribute, in regard to a late friend and former teammate.

Center, Missouri mural

In the summer of 1995, our Clark County varsity and junior varsity teams attended the Norm Stewart Team Camp on the campus of the University of Missouri. The 3-day event allowed our team to spend some much appreciated quality time together in the Hearnes Center competing. Off the court, we made strides in gelling as a basketball team, and in cementing a circle of friends.

Following team awards being distributed at the conclusion of camp, it was time to drive back home to Kahoka. But first, we would stop at Hannibal-LaGrange College for a summer league game. With a handful of hours to spare before game time, five of us decided to waste a few hours in Columbia before heading northeast. That meant going to the one place that any small town kid believes to be a symbol of the splendor and sophistication of a “bigger” city - the Columbia Mall.

With a handful of dollars in our pockets, we wanted only one thing - to win enough candy at the arcade for the long ride to Hannibal. We were failing at this endeavor until our center, Chis Jones, walked up to the Spin to Win game and hit the jackpot. Bounty in hand, Chris supplied both cars with a full bag of Laffy Taffys – always a game changer for any journey.

The infusion of sugar would certainly carry us through to our game, which was now only a few hours ahead – or so we thought. But as we drove slowly through the east side of Center, our car's coolant temperature warning light was suddenly illuminated. Our engine was overheating. We immediately pulled over, concerned that we were going to be late to our game. Pulling up behind us was Chris Jones and Matt Riney, more than curious as to why we suddenly stopped.

"What do we do now?", my brother Jaryt griped, as he and I exited Rob Elwell's car. Teammates always, we huddled up to evaluate our circumstances, and then someone suggested that all we need to do is add water to the engine, as we didn't have coolant. As if on cue, our collective focus panned to a small white residence just up the road. We all looked at each other nervously, as if silently drawing straws as to who would make this important journey.

White house on the edge of Center, Mo.

"Who wants to go ask for water?" Rob asked. We all just stared quietly, like we’d done so many times in class, not wanting to be called upon for the answer. Then the quietist of us spoke up. "I'll do it", Chris said. I turned to Chris and asked, "you'd do that for us?". "If you want me to do it, I will", Chris replied. Without another word, he took the first of the few hundred steps separating us from the small white house on the outskirts of Center.

He knocked at the door.

"Come in if you want. It's open", was the response from the voice inside.

A few minutes later, Chris emerged, walking back towards us with a jug full of water. He had a smirk a mile wide across his face, the kind you wear when the fear and uncertainty preceding a new journey, suddenly intersect with the realization that you’ve arrived. "You just have to ask", Chris said to us while pouring the water in the radiator fill.

I think of that response every time I think of Chris. It represented the core of who he is and always will be.

Junior center, Chris Jones (#52) rebounding

During that upcoming season, Chris entered the rotation as the team's sixth man. He spent most of his junior season as a defensive rim protector and getting most of his points off offensive rebounds or dump downs off penetration from perimeter players. We needed that large defensive presence inside and he was accepting of that role. In fact, one of my favorite moments that season was Chris pulling down the final rebound against Palmyra in the District semi-finals as we held a 3-point lead in the final seconds. As Palmyra's deep threat had two attempts to convert and tie the game, the final attempt hit the back of the iron and rebounded long. Chris ripped the ball out of the air. He wrapped his arms around the ball as though he owned it, never relinquishing possession until the buzzer sounded.

By all accounts, Chris was a player that you enjoyed playing alongside. He would do what you ask him to do. Unfortunately, I only had one season with him, but others had the opportunity to see him mature into a well-rounded, inside threat. His hard work didn't go unnoticed, nor did his fun-loving, easy-going disposition.

"He almost never complained or really said anything to [coach] Church about getting him the ball. He just worked hard all the time and accepted his spot on the team," Aaron Beckmann, a friend and 1997 teammate recalls about their senior season together.

Chris was a late bloomer who really was a baseball first guy, as he would later attend Culver-Stockton College and become a member of the Wildcat baseball team as a left-handed pitcher who went twice to the NAIA Baseball World Series.

Chris was a competitor. His senior season was a testament to that. Beckmann looks back to the first hour of the school day when he was a teacher aide and Chris had physical education class. "I think about 95% of the time, he and I shot the entire hour. It was great because we were both overly competitive. Chris was just quiet about it. I could not beat him one on one and he could not beat me in shooting games. No matter how many times one of us lost, we would always want to play another game."

That 1996-97 season, first year head coach Jason Church recounted, "when Chris asked me about the stats, he always asked, 'How many points did my man score?' or 'How many turnovers did I make?'". It was never about him. It was always about how his role helped the team. He was all business on the court.

At halftime against a talented Fort Madison team, Church remembers keeping Chris in the locker room after all other players had returned to the court. "I was getting on him about stepping up". Fort Madison's star center, Chris Hester, who would eventually play Division I basketball at Eastern Washington had been dominating the game and Church knew that Chris needed to step up. With his Clark County team down by 10 with less than 7 minutes remaining in regulation, Jones would score twelve points that final quarter in route to a triple-double stat line of 21 points, 15 rebounds, and 12 blocks. Chris' two three-point plays, two free throws and a tip-in put the Indians ahead in the final minutes. Clark County would outscore Fort Madison 22-4 and hold Hester to only 2 points in the final quarter.

Some players just need that reassurance and challenge. Sometimes you just have to ask.

Church recalls that during his senior year, "he maintained that role until around the holiday break when he started to come into his own as a skilled post up guy and gain confidence in his overall game. I’ve never seen any player control the defensive end of the floor from the middle of the 1-3-1 as he did. His ability to mirror the ball from block to free throw line and transition with one long cross over step was phenomenal. His wing span discouraged penetration from the top and his length and quickness impacted any shot attempted in the lane or short corner area. He had a unique ability to gather himself after contesting a shot and explode back up and rebound after the miss. He was the rare talent who was a raw athlete but could learn a new skill or move and apply it correctly almost immediately."

"Chris was one of the most genuinely good people I ever knew," Church said. "He rarely had a bad day and his quiet smile brightened any situation. I have little doubt that if Clark Co. had been Class 2A his senior year, he would have lead us to a deep tourney run and have made “The Wall” at CCR-1 HS by being selected first team All-State." 

Beckmann agrees that a long postseason run could have been possible if not for the class realignment. "We played Mexico in Districts our Senior year," Beckmann remembers. "We had just moved to 3A that year and were the #1 seed in the district", Beckmann said. "Jones was dominate in the first half but picked up some quick fouls. He fouled out in the second half with a lot of time left on the clock. The game was close at the end but we ended up losing. I have zero doubt in my mind that if he [Jones] was in the whole game we would have come out ahead."

Being the smallest Class 3A school in the state that year was definitely a bad break. "As a first year head coach", Church said, "I didn’t realize at the time what a rarity Chris was. Players with his skills don’t grow on trees."

Chris would earn many accolades his final season. All-conference, all-district, all-area and most importantly, all-around good teammate.

After Chris' senior season, I remember asking why he never played that aggressive the year before when we played together. His response? "I wasn't asked to". That always stuck with me, and I ponder what may have been if we would have asked Chris to take more control inside, like we asked him to get us that small jug of water the summer before. 

On the morning of July 5, 2005, our friend Chris set out on a much different journey, although once again a walk he would take alone. There was an accident - one that slowly turns everything as white and vivid as that small house in Center – and then to gray. This journey also ends at a house - a much different house, but one just as welcoming as a decade earlier. There is a wrap at the door – the kind of crisp, knowing knock someone makes when they arrive back home after years away – untroubled by the slightest bit of uncertainty.

"It's open,” a voice calls. "You’re early, but you can come on in, if you’re ready."

Chris opens the door slightly, takes a step into the heavens and responds, "You don't have to ask, I've always been ready."

God asked us for our best that day. When he picked Chris Jones, he selected what represents the very best in all of us. The years since have been dotted with inspiring stories, beautiful life lessons, and amusing memories of a great friend. It is through these memories that a legacy is created, shared and cemented in the minds of those left behind. We are all grateful for the very fact that he was given to us, if only for a short while.

"I remember how his many former classmates made the trip back to Linn County for his funeral. They came from all over the Midwest to pay their respects," Church added. "He was a beloved teammate. Trying to summarize his character and basketball talents is as daunting as delivering his eulogy. There is no way to properly memorialize Chris Jones in all the ways he was special to family, friends and teammates."

You couldn't ask for more from someone.