The Coach Who Played “Big”

Former Townley Junior High Coach Kenneth Lakey is remembered for always demanding excellence from his players, students, and himself

Words by Terrell Manasco | Images by Al Blanton and courtesy Paula Lakey 

If you played basketball for Kenneth Lakey, you’d better bring your A-PLUS game. Anything less wouldn’t cut it. 

The former Townley Junior High coach was notorious for being fiercely competitive, whether it was basketball, golf—or playing cards with his wife, Paula, and her family.

 “He didn't want to be my partner in Rook,” Paula says with a small grin. “He said, ‘Paula, you will never take the bid.’” 

Born August 19, 1946, Kenneth Marion Lakey grew up on his grandfather's farm near Townley. A natural at sports, he played basketball and baseball at Townley Junior High and lettered in basketball at Walker County High School. “He was good at it, despite not being tall,” Paula says. “He played ‘big.’”

Lakey arrived at Walker College in 1964 with the intent to study business administration—until he met a 6’5” redwood tree from Ardmore, Alabama named Glen R. Clem. After a year of playing point guard for the legendary Clem, Lakey pivoted to coaching. Unable to secure another scholarship, he missed playing a second year but later assisted Clem with summer basketball clinics.

Appropriately enough Lakey and Paula met during the winter holidays of 1965 at a Rebels basketball game, began dating, and were married in 1968. 

After earning his education degree at Jacksonville State University in 1970, Lakey accepted a coaching position at Townley Jr. High, where he soon became a fixture as familiar as the school’s feline mascot. During games, he was often seen courtside, his thin frame draped in a blue Oxford shirt and khakis, holding a clipboard and a blue-and-white hand towel which he smacked on the floor if a play didn’t go well. 

Lakey also had a unique way of commanding attention in a huddle. “They knew they were in trouble if he grabbed and pulled their jersey a little,” Paula says. “Sometimes he might get a little skin.” 

J.J. Hadder, who played point guard for the Wildcats, confesses he felt the “Lakey tug” on his own #32 jersey more than once. “He would put that thumb in your belly button and just pinch that fat and pull you in right there to his face,” J.J. says. 

Describing Lakey as “very fundamental,” Hadder says he could be intimidating without saying a word. He recalls a halftime locker room encounter his 8th grade year. “Our fifth guy fouled out with four minutes left in the game. We were down 16 at the half,” Hadder says. “(Lakey) came in our locker room, threw that towel against the locker, threw the clipboard down, and just sat down. He didn't say anything for two or three minutes. You could hear a pin drop in that locker room. Then he said, ‘We're going to go man-to-man.’ Everybody said, ‘Yes sir.’ He didn’t say anything else, then he got up and walked out.” 

With two or three minutes left in the game, Townley came back and won by three points. 

Former Townley point guard Jeff Cooner says even the officials were intimidated by Lakey. “The referees would notrun up and down on his side of the court,” he laughs. “If they called a foul, he would look at them and his eyes would pop out.” 

Cooner says Lakey didn’t allow players to have girlfriends, which he considered distractions. He expected them to focus only on basketball, even at home. “He knew where you lived, and he would ride around the neighborhood and make sure the grass wasn't growing where you practiced basketball,” he says, laughing. “During holidays, like Thanksgiving…we’d be practicing on Saturday.” 

In his science class, Lakey was a disciplinarian who didn’t tolerate disorder. To underscore the point, he had a sidekick: a two-foot-long wooden paddle. “When they got rowdy, he would open the bottom drawer, take out the paddle, and lay it on the front of his desk…not saying a word,” Paula says.

Lakey remained at Townley for 28 years, amassing 15 county championships during his impressive 518-126 career. He also coached the school’s first girls’ basketball team.

“He liked coaching junior high,” Paula says. “He was teaching them basic skills and they were younger so you could hold their attention more.” 

When Lakey hung up his coach’s whistle in 1998, he made sure his vacancy was filled. His replacement, Heath Burns, feels deeply indebted to Lakey. “[He] called the Townley principal, Ms. Ruby Pike, and recommended me for the job,” Burns says. “If it weren’t for Coach Lakey, I might not be coaching today.”

Burns says Lakey had an advanced mind for basketball and could always be called on for advice. Lakey had also left notes that were extremely helpful. “He had a filing cabinet in the science lab with basketball stuff in it,” Burns recalls. “I really studied the game by going through notes he’d taken at camps and clinics. I figured out coaching was a lot about ‘acquired knowledge’ and ‘when you’re through learning, you’re through.’”

After retirement, Lakey hunted, fished, golfed, and watched Alabama’s basketball team practice. In 2000, he began coaching B-team basketball at Sumiton Christian School. Although he wasn’t an outgoing person, he surprised Paula by taking a real estate course.

Lakey always kept himself in top physical condition, even after he retired, through exercise and a healthy diet.  “I remember calling and inviting him down to play in a faculty versus students basketball game,” Burns says. “He came to the game in better shape than our basketball team. Coach could really play, and man, the guy liked to compete.”

Early in 2005, Lakey began suffering from back pain. He’d tried thermal patches but found no relief. 

Finally, the pain became unbearable, and Paula insisted he see a doctor. X-rays showed one vertebra was completely consumed with cancer. Doctors termed it an "unknown primary.”  

“He had spots in his pelvis and femur,” Paula says. “I don't understand how he was walking around.”

Lakey underwent weeks of chemotherapy and radiation. Then doctors discovered the cancer had metastasized. They gave him 18 months and advised him to get his affairs in order. 

During his last weeks, Lakey accepted his fate with grace. The coach who loved to win had to admit that this time, he faced an unbeatable opponent.  

“He was the best patient. He wasn't angry or bitter,” Paula says. “He told me, ‘Do what makes you happy.’

In March 2006, Kenneth Lakey lapsed into a coma. He died two days later. 

That October, a resolution was passed renaming the Townley gymnasium after him.  

Reflecting on their 38 years of marriage, Paula says, “He was a good person. I feel very fortunate to have been a part of his life.”

Many—faculty, staff, and especially his players—undoubtedly share that sentiment toward Kenneth Lakey, the coach who played “big.” 78