My "Bill Stinson Story"

Thank you, Oskie Bill!

Last Saturday I attended (along with several hundred others) a Celebration Of Life for Bill Stinson in Arkansas City, KS. 

One of the highlights of the event was the moving and creative testimony of his two daughters, Heidi and Natalie. Buffeting back their tears they persevered to regale us with an interpretation of what the “book” of Bill’s life would be, chapter by chapter.  And we all knew this was the Reader’s Digest version of Bill’s life because obviously you can’t encapsulate one man’s life, especially that of Bill’s, in one book. 

Another highlight was a moving slide show capturing scenes from Bill’s life from childhood to that sad day on November 19, 2022.  At the close of the ceremonies, the Pastor relayed that in the reception to follow, Bill’s wife, Shelly, would love for those attending to share any stories they might have about Bill.  As I looked around the throng of people, I thought to myself, “This could take months.” 

And though I did have a story to share about that man, I regret I did not do it at that time.  But, hell I’m gonna do it now. 

I don’t know where the term originated but I always called him, “Oskie Bill.” 

This is because in the parlance of Southwestern College Football at the time “OSKIE!” is what you yelled when you intercepted a football.  And Bill seemed to yell that more than any other teammate that I have played with. 

When I was a freshman at Southwestern College at 17 years old, Bill and the rest of the Southwestern defense were like giants to me. 

And as part of the daily ritual, we would scrimmage (10 plays offense, 10 plays defense) with the first string defense playing the second string offense and vice versa. 

As that freshman and second string offensive player I had to face what was then the fifth ranked defense in the nation A LOT. 

There are two components to the story that follows. 

The first is that for some reason still unknown to me, the coach decided to make me a wide receiver.  He must have had a fever that day because I had never played wide receiver in my life.  But being a freshman, you did what you were told. 

Second, staring across the line of scrimmage at me were guys that hit you so hard I can still feel my bones crunching to this day. 

They were, in no order of viciousness, Dave Tasker, Tony Gray, Kelly Siefkes, and of course, Oskie Bill.  This wasn’t just a secondary.  They were the four horseman of my apocalypse. 

During my first attempt at being a wide receiver, the pass went high and I went up for it and Tony Gray about broke me in half.

During my second attempt as a wide receiver, the ball went high and I went up for it and Kelly Siefkes about took my head off.

On my third attempt as a wide receiver, the pass was even higher and I went up for it and Dave Tasker hit me so hard I almost swallowed my mouthpiece.

It was a fun day.

 In the locker room afterward, Bill came up to me and said, “We live for guys that overextend themselves like that.  You’re gonna get slaughtered.  If the pass is uncatchable, just let it go.” 

A few days later at our daily scrimmage they sent me on a deep post pattern and again the ball was overthrown. So I took Bill’s advice and just let it go. 

That’s when Bill yelled “OSKIE!”, picked it off and ran for a touchdown.

He did not gloat about that.  He just did his thing. 

And a couple of days later in the cafeteria, he said to me, “You were right the first three times. Never give up on the ball.” 

There are two points I am trying to make about this story. 

One is that I’ve carried that lesson throughout my entire life—To never give up, as we all know Bill never did. 

And I think the second point is even more pertinent and that is this:  I only knew Bill for a very short period of my life.  We were not nearly as close as so many of the friends and family that I saw in Ark City last Saturday.  But the impact of my small connection with him has lasted a lifetime and I think we should all recognize how the smallest things we glean from even the briefest of connections in our lives can resonate so strongly over the decades. 

That is what you call legacy. 

These are things that live on within us as gifts from those who have no idea that they have given them to us. 

And for that all I can say is, “Thank you, Oskie Bill!” 

On a side note, it was great to see both Tony Gray and Dave Tasker at Bill’s celebration.  But to this day they are the reason I don’t walk so good sometimes.