Ray Stange, master of the hardcourt. (Photos courtesy Ken Stange)
The mission is complete … for now.
Ken Stange recently wrapped an 18-year run as Coupeville High School tennis coach, leading the Wolves through two seasons most years.
As he marinates in his “retirement” down at Bailey’s Corner Store, he’s sharing memories, deep thoughts, and (maybe) clues to where the bodies are buried.
A nine-part odyssey inside the mind of the man, the myth, the always-entertaining net guru:
Some of the seeds of my coaching career were planted by my dad, Ray.
He gave me tennis.
Dad got me out on the court when I was about eight years old.
We loved sports. We were huge fans of all the Seattle teams, especially the Sonics and Seahawks.
I’ve got endless memories of trips to Seattle to see our teams play against some of the greats.
Tennis was the game we played, though.
He taught me and paid for some lessons.
He kept me flush with racquets, strings, and shoes.
I loved playing. I was average at other sports but in tennis, I learned how to wield my racquet well.
I wanted to get better.
When he was at work and unable to play with me, I’d hit against a wall, or I’d try to convince my friends to play with me.
Eventually, I was almost good enough to play with his crew, so he obliged and let me learn from the older men.
My game improved by leaps and bounds.
Ken Stange (left), always at home on the court.
In the spring of my ninth-grade year, I was excited to join the tennis team.
It had been a rough year.
My mom had passed just before Christmas, and I was full of depression and angst.
On the first day of the season, I walked from the junior high to the big bad high school (that school was grades 10-12) with excitement.
It was a welcome escape from what had been a hellish year so far.
Turns out, my depression and angst did not sit well with my tennis coach.
It didn’t take long for him to hate me, and he didn’t really disguise his feelings for me.
My tennis coach, who was ironically, the psychology teacher, came up with a nickname for me.
My new name was Fat. True story!
He was not my favorite person.
Luckily, I found a family in my teammates, who welcomed me with open arms, and with the assistant coach, who went to great lengths to help me process my mom’s death and all that depression and angst.
But that coach … he planted the other half of the seeds of my coaching career.
The ones that would help me focus on being kind and understanding; a coaching career that would allow players the chance to grow and the chance to be competitive.
Funny story: eventually, my coach could not deny me. In my senior year, my teammates voted me as captain.
He finally gave me the chance to play him at practice.
While I was up 4-1 in the first set, he stopped playing, grabbed his gear, and left practice early.
Years later, I would play Ben Hayes in practice.
He beat me. He was the first CHS kid to do so. I think I hugged him.
I owe a lot to Coach SoAndSo.
In my early years of coaching, when I often didn’t know how to proceed, I would ask myself how he would have done it. Then I did exactly the opposite.
Aside from doing the opposite of Coach SoAndSo, I often looked to my dad for advice related to tennis.
He was an excellent resource that possessed a wealth of information and experience.
My dad was the biggest CHS tennis supporter who never came to a match!
Forever the inspiration.
Every time we talked on the phone, Dad would listen to me give the details of matches … my players … the kids I felt could possibly make it to state.
He was my rock, and until he was 89, he was the official supplier of CHS practice tennis balls.
He collected the once used balls from the places he played and saved them for me.
Twice a year, I’d pick up several hundred tennis balls, many of which would end up being given to opposing teams, nursing homes (for walkers), and teachers whose classrooms had uncarpeted floors and metal chair legs.
Coupeville Sports 