Summer 2024 Issue

Larry Happel ’81, longtime athletics communications director, in his natural habitat: The press box in Ron and Joyce Schipper Stadium, surrounded by student workers on a football Saturday.

As returning alumni wander past the sun-dazzled windows of the renovated P.H. Kuyper Gymnasium, some stumble upon my office, and the startled three-word greeting I receive is rarely, “How are you?” but rather “You’re still here?”

I’ve considered changing the title listed below my name outside my office door from “Athletics Communications Director” to “Still Here.”

Except that after 45 years in that role, I’ve handed off that title to someone else.

That’s right. This Parting Shot is, indeed, my parting shot. I confess my eyes moisten a bit as I type that. Serving as what’s more commonly known as Central College’s SID is woven into my identity. It’s consumed me 24/7, often to the justified irritation of family and friends.

And yet, ironically, I’ll probably be most remembered for helping create Lemming Day when I was a Central sophomore. Apparently, I peaked at age 19.

When new retirees claim to look back and say, “I wouldn’t change a thing,” I wince. Are you kidding me? I’ve got more regrets than Blaine Hawkins ’21 has passing yards, ranging from stubbornly taking my job and myself too seriously to once ordering baked fish at a KFC.

But I’m also filled with gratitude. I’m grateful I got to work so closely with pillars of Central like former President Ken Weller and coaches Ron Schipper, Jack Walvoord ’54 and George Wares ’76 as well as so many lesser-known figures, like cherished all-time fun former co-workers Sherry Meyers and Abby Gonzales Larson ’03. I even got to call them all friends. They each taught me much. Coach Schipper, in particular, impressed on me that everything we do leaves an impression about Central and that sweating the small stuff matters.

Yet Central is about students and I’m most grateful for them sharing their Central adventures with me. My mind glances back and sees men’s basketball center Steve Muller ’85, getting whistled for another foul under the hoop, then yelling over to me at the scorer’s table, “Larry, how many?” There’s softball right fielder Kris Hughes Gardner ’03, picking up her bat and raising a gloved hand to give me our ritual high five before heading to the batter’s box to hit the NCAA title-winning Salem Slam. So many magical images that require no description, only capitalization. Emilie’s Shot. The Miracle in the Mud. The Volleyball Three-Peat. Hawkins to Schminke.

But also, quieter moments. Walking into my office and seeing Laura Bach Olson ’93 with her feet on my desk, killing time between classes. Talking fantasy baseball with Bryan George ’06 or Kansas basketball with Trey Melvin ’23. Purple ink smeared on the face of Lisa Tomlinson ’91 back when we used to run box scores on ditto machines. Emily Grimes Rottinghaus ’94 emptying another bottle of white-out correcting our mistakes. The joyful smile bursting from Meredith Mahoney ’22 after getting the call offering her the grad assistant job she worked so hard to land.

The job isn’t easy. Division III at a small rural Iowa school can feel like the athletics equivalent of the Federal Witness Protection Program when you’re trying to connect with Division I-obsessed media members who view Central as third-rate. Yet there’s nothing third-rate about the anxious feeling I get in my stomach when the Dutch face fourth and one, the joy of seeing students you care about succeed or the amazing people whose stories I got to tell.

Yes, I’m grateful. I had a job for 45 years and never worked a day.