The following personal column by senior Emmitt Dickes was written in his Comp I class. He writes about Coach Brad Feeken’s impact. The first annual “Read for Feek” event will take place this weekend, Saturday, Nov. 11, at Heavy Brewing in Gretna, NE. This event is in celebration of the 20+ years he spent coaching basketball at GHS and his love for reading. There are two family reading sessions, scheduled from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and from 1:30 to 3. An adult read starts at 4 p.m. for those 21 and older. The cost is $10 to enter. Funds raised go towards the For Feek Forever Foundation.
When I was a young boy growing up in Gretna, basketball was everything to me. I’d beg my parents to go to every home game, especially the ones on Friday night when a rival came to town. The players were like gods to me. I wanted so badly to be like them. And of course, there was Coach Feeken. Some basketball coaches blend into the action, but not Feek. He stomped around the court calling out plays and defenses. He looked like a madman. As I grew older, I heard stories of what he was like. I heard he would hold his players to the highest of standards, and this brought out the best in many of them. I truly could not wait to play for the Gretna Dragons under the leadership of Coach Feek. But two weeks before I put on that jersey for the first time, he told us all that he had cancer.
December 30, 2023. I woke up early, nervous about the upcoming day. I had the semifinal game of our JV tournament and the Metro Conference quarterfinal to look forward to. So my dad took me to Billy’s Cafe for breakfast. We don’t hang out very much with just each other, so that was very special for me. After that, I decided to lay down for a bit. But not long after I had put my head to my pillow, my dad knocked on the door. It surprised me, and I knew something was wrong. He told me to come upstairs real quick.
“Coach Feeken died this morning.”
I was stunned. Speechless. I couldn’t move. I knew that his condition was worsening, but there had only been positive updates for the last couple of weeks. But just like that, he was gone.
I sat on the couch and stared at the wall, waiting for the news to come out through our coaches. First, a message that the JV game was canceled, like that really even mattered at this point. Then a message saying to meet at the high school in an hour.
When I got to the gym I was holding back tears, and some of my teammates had clearly been crying already. The ones that had truly gone to war with Feek over their years of high school. He was like a second dad to all of us. The gym was as quiet as I had ever experienced it. The only sound was that of hugging and sobbing. The seniors huddled up with Coach Heard, and decided the right thing to do was to play. That’s what Feek would have wanted.
We loaded up the vans earlier than normal. There was no use for us to be alone at that time. We needed each other. I remember sitting next to Landon on the ride to Creighton Prep, like I always did. He was probably the closest with Coach, and he had been crying most of the day. But during that drive, he wasn’t crying. I could tell that the excitement had taken over, and that he was ready to play. We were all ready to have something else to think about.
When we entered the gym for warmups, we got a standing ovation. A long one. It felt like the whole Omaha Metro had come out to support us, and let us know that we weren’t alone. The public address announcer did a nice speech about Feek, and for the first time, I cried. I cried in front of all the fans, my teammates, my dad in the stands. But as I looked around, I realized I wasn’t alone. Everyone was crying, feeling the weight of the moment.
The game went fast, like a blur. We took a big lead to halftime, but slowly lost it in the second half. It was a grueling game, scores in the 40s even though both us and Papio South averaged in the 70s. But in the end, we came out on top. By the grace of that magical shot by Landon, a dark day turned into a celebration of joy.
I will always remember Coach Feeken. I’ll remember the first time he yelled at me, telling me not to dribble because I was too good of a shooter. I’ll remember his shrill whistle, his conditioning drills, and his summer workout popsicles. I will forever remember the last words he ever said to me. He told me “Keep in the fight.” Yes, coach.
