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was coaching the Bulldog basketball team.

In a game at old Woodruff Hall, Whatley at his redwood height walked out on the court and began berating a pint sized official. After enduring considerable abuse from his towering verbal aggressor, the official pointed his finger at Whatley and told him that he was going to get a technical for every step it took him to return to his proper place on the bench.

With that, the Bulldog coach dropped to his hands and knees and crawled off the court.

Humor was the staple of Whatley’s personality, but he was a serious competitor— he just had a colorful, albeit sarcastic style, but underneath all that nonconventional persuasion, there was a big-hearted man whose cynicism belied his empathy and generosity.

A lot of kids, including little girls, hung around the ballpark—eager volunteer batboys and batgirls. Some fell into the low economic category. Whatley was given to going grocery shopping and leaving sacks of groceries on their family’s front steps, ringing the doorbell, and stealing away in the twilight.

He gave me hell, good naturedly, and I did my best to reciprocate all the time enjoying matching wits with a man I greatly admired and appreciated to the fullest. He was truly an unforgettable character. We all miss him but will never forget him and his colorful ways.