Feb 18, 2024 By Bill Hughes 10 min read

In 1996, Linda Ellis wrote “The Dash,” a poem that looks at a person’s

life, with the year they were born, what year they passed away, and

the dash in between which represents the kind of life they lived.

For longtime educator and football coach Jim Dumm, who passed away

last Sunday, his dash reads 1947-2024. However, his dash shines

brighter than that of most others.

It is rare for one person to affect so many lives, but for Dumm, it

came easy, as if it was a calling from above.

A teacher in the Elizabeth Forward School District for 34 years and a

football coach for 35, Coach was a giant of a man with an even bigger

heart.

Seldom does someone like Coach live a life giving so selflessly of his

time, his energy and his resources while leaving an indelible imprint

on countless others, but that is exactly what Coach did until his

passing this past Sunday.

Our introduction happened by chance in the spring of 2002, and it was

definitely a case of me being lucky enough to be in the right place at

the right time.

Coach was the head football coach at Charleroi at the time, and I was

doing my student teaching at the school with Bernie Medved.

It was towards the end of the day, and Coach was there talking to his

son Jared, a senior. Jared called me over and introduced us.

“Powerhouse,” Coach called from that moment on because of my wrestling

career, “it is great to meet you and I have heard a lot about you.”

Until our last conversation, Coach always called me Powerhouse and

never once called me Bill. Eventually, Coach would start every

conversation with, “Powerhouse, the House that Power built.”

I never did ask him what he meant specifically, but it always made me chuckle.

Instantly after our chance introduction, Coach started looking out for

me, and within two weeks, he and his wife invited me over for dinner.

Coach pulled out some newspaper clippings from his career at

Youngstown State and Waynesburg College, his brief stint with the

Baltimore Colts in the NFL, his time with the Chicago Fire from the

World Football League, and from his coaching career.

Coach spoke humbly about his time playing and coaching (up to that

point), but next he pulled out clippings that meant way more to him,

and those were of his two sons, Jeff and Jared.

Jeff had a standout career at Waynesburg while Jeff played at Cal U

and then professionally overseas.

Excited to learn about Coach’s playing career, in his typical humble

ways, he would answer my questions but always try to redirect the

conversation to his sons and his daughter, Lauren.

Mrs. Dumm made her famous lasagna that day, and if you have been lucky

enough to try it, you know what I mean! It was at this dinner that I

realized how special both Coach and Mrs. Dumm were, and it didn’t take

long for me to realize that once you were in Coach’s life, you were

family.

That fall, Coach was starting his last season as Charleroi’s head

coach while I was in my first season as an assistant on Monessen’s

staff.

The Cougars came across the river in the opener and defeated us in

overtime, and as everyone shook hands after the game, Coach stopped me

to make sure he gave me words of encouragement.

Even in a moment of pride by leading his team to a rivalry win, he was

still looking out for someone else.

Again, that was Coach. Always looking out for others.

Fast forward to the opening weekend of the playoffs later that season.

Despite being home underdogs against Farrell, we defeated the Steelers

7-6 and some of our coaches went out after the game.

When we arrived to the chosen establishment, who was there waiting for

us? Coach Dumm.

Despite being rivals, he was so happy for us that he came to share his

joy with us. He picked up the tab, and again, that was Coach being

Coach.

After the season ended, he reached out to me to see if I was

interested in coaching at Cal U. The Vulcans had an opening on the

staff, and although I declined as it would affect my availability for

my wrestling career, I was floored that he was trying to advance my

coaching career.

When I told him I didn’t have enough experience to be considered, he

said it was already a done deal, if I wanted it.

Again, Coach was looking out for others. Coach being Coach.

Coach was an assistant on two of Clairton’s undefeated WPIAL and PIAA

championship teams, and he emotionally shared with me what those wins

and the consecutive 16-0 seasons meant to him, he wouldn’t take any

credit.

“It was the players, Powerhouse,” he said. “I just happened to be there.”

Coach being Coach, he humbly deflected praise.

The bond between Coach and I went from mentor/mentee to close friends

to being like family over the years, and we had a lot of common

interests.

The Boston Celtics, collecting sports cards, and food are just a few,

and heaven knows our mutual love for food saw us go on countless food

runs.

Whether we went to East McKeesport because Coach liked a fish sandwich

from a specific restaurant, or to buffets, or to the Rib Cage for BBQ,

we shared so many stories and laughs over good food.

He would come over for cookouts, and I would take food over to Coach.

He got to know my parents at the cookouts, asked about them every time

we spoke, and instantly considered them friends, like he did with so

many others.

As a school counselor with the Trinity Area School District in

Washington, Wednesdays are a travel day and I would always try to call

Coach to check in on him when driving in between buildings.

The talks would be brief, but it let him know I was thinking about

him. Our last conversation, on January 31, lasted 10 minutes and 47

seconds, as I drove from Trinity South to Trinity West.

Coach’s voice was weak as he said he was going to take a nap, but like

he did at the end of every call, he told me that he loved me. Despite

his pain, Coach was being Coach.

Whether in person or over the phone, Coach would always talk about

hearing from other coaches or from his former players.

He took pride hearing about his players’ families and what they were

up to in life.

If someone needed advice, Coach was there.

When Coach’s church needed fundraisers, he set them up, and in some

cases, helped fund them.

If a high school coach was trying to get a player into a college to

continue his academic and athletic career, Coach would watch film and

call college coaches to help the kids without even knowing who they

were.

Coaches would reach out to coach to watch film, and he loved it.

With Coach’s mobility limited in recent years, watching film gave him

a chance to be involved.

Coaches would call him and ask him to go to practices and speak to the

kids. Coach cherished these moments, and he would always call me that

night or the next day to share his happiness.

No matter what anyone needed, Coach was there for them, again and

again, being himself. Coach being Coach.

Coach’s last few years weren’t just physically hard for him as his and

Mrs. Dumm’s daughter Lauren passed in November 2021, and there was a

void, obviously, in their lives.

Coach’s faith kept him fighting, and there is no doubt Lauren was

waiting just inside the pearly gates to hug Coach as he passed

through.

He battled on, but he never fully recovered from her passing, and

understandably so. Despite this, Coach never stopped being there for

others while so many of us tried to be there for them.

In early 2020, Coach was notified by the Mid Mon Valley All Sports

Hall of Fame that he would be inducted that year. Covid forced the

2020 and 2021 banquets to be canceled, so Coach was finally inducted

in 2022.

Again, Coach being Coach, he gave the credit to his staff, players,

and anyone but himself.

Another honor Coach was beyond proud of was when EF recognized him in

2021 as a “Special Educator” by the EF Alumni Friends Hall of Fame. He

called me that day, nervous yet excited, as I was headed to Penn State

for a game that weekend.

“This is about the kids, not me,” he said, again deflecting praise.

Coach, being Coach, was there for me this past July 29 on what has

been the worst day of my life.

While in Niagara Falls, I received word that morning that my mother

had passed away. Knowing how religious Coach was but not knowing if

he was awake yet, I sent a text to let him know and to say a few

prayers for her.

A short time later, my phone rings, and it was Coach trying to be

supportive while trying to talk through his own tears, not to mention

mine.

Coach called me again later in the day, still shook up yet trying to

be there for me. He genuinely was feeling my pain, and I will forever

be grateful for the support he provided me through those days.

Again, like he did for so many over the years, Coach was being Coach,

being there for someone else, and this time, it just happened to be

me.

When Jeff called me last Friday and updated me on his dad health and

him being in the hospital, I had the family’s blessing to head down to

visit.

The drive from Trinity to Jefferson Hospital seemed to take forever,

and I knew deep down this would be the last time I would be able to

speak to him.

Sharing my goodbyes with Coach as well as being there with Mrs. Dumm,

Jeff (his wife Carrie), and Jared, a sense of warmth came over me as I

left as I knew in my heart Coach would not be suffering much longer.

Jeff texted me 15 minutes after his dad passed Sunday, and while I was

sad, I took solace knowing that that Coach was no longer in pain.

In thinking about what Coach meant to me, and always will, and knowing

what he meant to so many others, I thought about Ellis’ poem.

For those of us lucky enough to be in Coach’s life, even if just a

little, we know what his dash represented. I have never heard a bad

word about Coach, and if I could ask him what he thought his dash

would be about, he would say, “Powerhouse, I was surrounded by great

people who always made me look better than I was.”

Coach being Coach, he would say that and he would not provide any

complimentary self-reflection.

That’s okay, though, because there are a lot of us who will carry on

the lessons Coach taught us. We will keep his dash going, and we will

take it from here as he watches over all of us.

My thoughts and prayers remain with Coach, Mrs. Dumm, Jeff, Carrie,

Jared and his wife Anne, and their four kids.