Do you want to have fun? Or do you want to win?*

This post most likely will hold the interest of only a small collection of people: a group of knuckle-headed beer league hockey players from forty years ago, and the family members and acquaintances that latched on to the phenomenon of a group of friends having the times of their lives. One of those friends, our one-of-a-kind player-coach, Terry Yeager, left us last week.

Terry, the rambling remembrances presented here are for you, and for the players of the Stahley’s Brewers and White Knights hockey teams that you assembled.

Yeager, you put together one of the best group of guys anyone could have played with. We were hated by the league and we loved it … and loved you for it.

Lynn

There are a chunk of years in my life … stupid, goofy, hilarious, formative years … that I can’t imagine without Terry. I go back to those years often. My goofball friends and I tell stories and relive those times when we get together — too much, probably — but I don’t care. At times Terry was at the periphery of those events, at others he was the epicenter.

He provided me a job when I needed to make money.  I’m sure he covered my league fee when I couldn’t come up with it. Taught me so much about how the team is bigger than any one player. 

Danny

Every group of beer league players needs someone to wrangle the team in the right direction. It’s a thankless job. Terry Yeager was just the man for us. Most people would tell you there is no need for a coach in beer league hockey. My friend, in the case of Stahley’s Brewers, you would be wrong.

Terry was exactly the type of coach our group needed. I wouldn’t trade my time with Terry and the team for anything!

Sam

The stories are near legendary. His generosity unmatched. When guys on the team were suddenly unemployed Terry would get us jobs at the Danskin store he managed. He proclaimed us “Slugs.” A Slug’s job mostly consisted of goofing off while occasionally stocking a shelf or moving a pallet of leotards.

If the Slugs were working on a day when the Brewers happened to have a game that night, Terry would call us to his office on the intercom, where we would hang out with Terry for HOURS, talking (ha-ha) “strategy.” Being a Slug was the best job I ever had.

David

If he didn’t get you a job, he’d find a way to help you out.

I had brought my season fees to a game intending to pay Terry afterwards. Came back into the locker room and the money was stolen. Terry covered me that season. He was someone who always had our backs. What a great guy.

Tommy

He didn’t ask of anything in return. Being a couple years older than most of us, maybe he saw something the rest of us just took for granted.

I believe Terry covered a lot of us at Stahley’s for years and kept a rag tag bunch of misfits always moving in the same direction.

Paul

If a game got tight, he’d give up his shift to get someone better out on the ice. His joy was being with the team. He always had something in his player-coach bag of tricks.

Terry had extras of everything. Missing an elbow pad? “I’ve got an extra.” Shin guard? “Take mine.” Forgot your cup? “I’ve got another one.” He came to one of the team’s Halloween parties once and brought an extra costume.

David

His stepsons Scott and Shawn (christened “Itchy and Scratchy” before the Simpsons ever existed) manned the doors on the bench during games. His daughter Lisa was a presence at almost every team function. Off the ice, his thoughtfulness and friendship left an indelible mark.

When I was first married Terry and Sally would have Leslie and I over to their house in Kutztown for dinner and hours of card playing. It was a simple and welcoming gesture. Few people in life can be the emotional glue that Terry was to hold this diverse group (a polite term) of guys together.

Jack

Hockey — and the group of friends he played with back in the ’80s — remained a constant in Terry’s life after he left Pennsylvania for North Carolina many years ago. He didn’t forget us. And we can’t forget him.

One of Terry’s final conversations with his daughter Lisa was a wish for all of us to get together, have some drinks, and “talk bullshit about me.”

Lynn

So … as we come up with a way to get together and honor our coach, take a moment, raise a glass, remember Terry, and share in Lynn’s perfectly written sentiment:

You were the best player-coach since Reg Dunlop. A true leader. We were the “slugs” … but you buddy? You were the heart and soul. Good shift Terry.

Lynn

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Video and Photographic Evidence of a Time Long Ago.

I went searching through my photos and videos of those times. There is a lot, but not enough of Terry. Jack had some gems. (Thanks Jack.) I knew there was video of a game with Terry in it somewhere, and I finally found it. A White Knights game from 1990. Maybe a few years past our peak hockey talent, but it’s something. There are more videos from other games out there, but that’ll take a little excavation time. Until then take a gander at these clips, shot at (fittingly) the Ice Palace. Also a warning … while considering the video evidence versus what we picture in our heads, the video wins every time.

*

It’s 1983 and the “Lehigh Valley Senior Hockey Association” decides (no, really) to have an All Star Game. Three players from all the teams are put together on an “all star” team that will play last year’s champions, the Spartans (“Booooo …”). Terry Yeager, coach of Stahley’s Brewers (“Woo-hoo!”), who lost to the Spartans the year before (“The fix was in!”), is the coach. Before the game, Terry looks at the three members of his beloved Stahley’s team, who he believes are the best players in the locker room, whether it’s true or not. Setting aside the fact that this is a meaningless game that’s “just for fun,” he turns to the rest of the players in the room and says:

“Okay guys I only have one thing to say. Do you want to have fun? …” Then he glances at his three Brewers teammates … “Or do you want to win?”

In a world of winning and having fun, I think Terry chose both.

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