Stump: The Remarkable Influence of Coach David Norwood
Words by Matt Adams | Images by Justin Hunter
I was in my mid-twenties, sitting in the office of a potential client almost twice my age. Looking for some type of connection, I found out that this potential client was from Hartselle and quickly asked, “Do you know David Norwood?” The man’s eyes lit up and a big smile spread across his face as he excitedly said “Know him? I played football with Stump Norwood!” For anyone who knew Coach Norwood, this is a familiar and common reaction.
David “Stump” Norwood played nose tackle at Hartselle High School under legendary coach Don Woods. Short and undersized for that position, he earned the nickname “Stump” based on his stature. I always assumed that his gritty unwillingness to be moved off the line of scrimmage—like a tree stump’s stubbornness to be removed from the ground—had something to do with the nickname as well. He was energetic, full of life and laughter, and loved those that came across his path as if they were family. I never saw him back down from a challenge.
When I met Coach Norwood, it was on the football field at Walker High School, where he was an assistant coach. He quickly recruited me to join the wrestling team. As head coach of the wrestling program, Norwood’s pitch was simple – “It will help you stay in shape during the football offseason.”
Later in life, he went on to be the head football coach at Gardendale, leading the Rockets to their first undefeated season. He also had football coaching stops at Austin, Cordova, Shades Valley, and Bibb County.
As it turns out, wrestling practice was brutal. It started with conditioning, ended with conditioning, and had more conditioning sprinkled in the middle. I played football because I loved the sport, even the practices. I wrestled for a different reason: I loved Coach Norwood.
Norwood loved to tease wrestlers trying to make weight by eating something in front of them. I remember him eating jambalaya in front of me one day with a laugh that someone should put a patent on, while he said “Jam…Ba…Laya” (in the tone of Newman from Seinfeld) over and over.
It wasn’t uncommon for us to leave for a tournament early on Saturday mornings and get back Sunday morning after 12:00 a.m. One Saturday morning, a member of the team overslept. Norwood proceeded to load us all up in the van and pull up in West Jasper in front of the player’s house. Before 5:00 a.m. Coach Norwood proceeded to honk the horn repeatedly, yelling for the player to wake up because we were going to be late. At some point, I asked “Hey coach, are you sure this is his house?” Norwood replied, “Yes. I drop him off every day after practice.”
It was always Norwood’s heart that endeared him to anyone who ever played for him.
But that heart extended to others as well, students who didn’t play sports, his two sons, Chris and Prentice, and his wife, Tracy. Stump’s stature may have been small, but his heart was as big as the tallest oak tree.
At one point, our wrestling team got beat handily by a vastly superior Birmingham area team. Norwood wasn’t disappointed that we got beat; he was disappointed in our effort. The next day at practice, he announced that we would be conditioning. Outside, he had us line up behind the school’s driver’s education car. Norwood in the driver’s seat and the car in neutral, two of us took turns pushing the car throughout the streets of Jasper while the rest of the team jogged behind. When Norwood blew the whistle, the next two started pushing. No doubt, half of the city thought the wrestling coach had lost his mind. While that practice is still a source of laughter for me, I will never forget what he said to us after. Our effort reflected him as our coach and he was unwilling to tolerate a lack of effort, but then he hugged us individually as we left and told us that he loved us. While Norwood could be tough on the field or the mat, he never did so in a manner that pushed people away.
He was ever excitable and quick with a laugh, and that infectious personality drew everyone close to him. Once I was driving my car away from practice when he waved at me to stop. Excited to see Coach Norwood, I hopped out of the car and failed to put my car in park. Ole’ Stump never moved quicker as he chased my car across Viking Drive. After we caught up with it and put it in park, we laughed for what seemed to be an eternity.
Twenty years after that potential client meeting, David Norwood passed away at the age of 61 from cancer. About five days after his passing, I had been texting with some classmates from Walker about Norwood’s impact. I posed the question: “What do you think it was that made everyone love Coach Norwood?” Answers varied, but for me, I think it was a genuineness that is rare, a loyalty to his players that never wavered, and the dichotomy of a coach who demanded excellence but simultaneously was a friend that loved to laugh and loved those around him.
We all have people who were influences on us when we grew up, and it was my good fortune to have David Norwood as one of mine. 78