Tag Archives: crowley’s ridge academy

Guest Post by Request (Terry Austin, Communications & Development Director, CRA)

logo-craheader4Today, we’ve replaced the fine writing usually served here at Al Sturgeon’s blog with the literary equivalent of Folger’s Crystals. Let’s see if his readers can tell the difference…

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If you’re reading his blog, you’re either a friend of Al Sturgeon or you’re stalking him for nefarious purposes. I suppose both could be true, but let’s focus on the former option.

I’m firmly in that first group and have been for literally as long as I can remember. Al and I grew up together (though he is much, much older). We lived in the same small town in the northeast corner of Arkansas, attended the same church for several years, and went to the same school. I was even his deadbeat roommate for a time, which I choose to recall as a practicum of sorts for his later work in helping the needy.

So if it’s a skeleton in Al’s closet you seek, I’m the man to ask. I could tell you about the time he… well, no, that wasn’t Al. Or how about when the cops busted him for… well, shoot. That wasn’t him, either. That might have been me.

Clearly, the plain if somewhat aggravating truth we must face about Al Sturgeon is this: He’s always been this way, folks. Head of the class, seeker of justice, dispenser of mercy, speaker of truth, friend to all. That’s Al. The darkest stain on his character is his affinity for canned tamales and the Dallas Cowboys.

And so, because of those characteristics (and in spite of the tamales), I’m honored to take over Al’s blog today to announce this:

For his personal and professional accomplishment and his faithful spiritual example, Al Sturgeon has been selected as the 2017 Distinguished Alumnus at Crowley’s Ridge Academy in Paragould, Arkansas.

Al graduated from CRA in 1988 as the valedictorian of his class, the president of the student council, co-winner of the basketball award, and — as chosen by the school’s faculty — holder of the honorific “Mr. CRA.”

Shortly after college, he returned to the school as coach and teacher. His track teams delivered the school’s first-ever state championships (1994 and 1995). And his office was frequently a refuge for students quietly wrestling with turmoil within or at home. They naturally gravitated to Coach Al. He was, then as now, a solace for those in pain and need.

While teaching at CRA, Al met his wife, Jody, and they and their daughters, Erica and Hillary, have since journeyed together from Paragould to a pair of coasts, always together, always building or rebuilding, and always serving.

Readers of this blog are likely familiar with Al’s work in the years that followed, first picking up the pieces after Hurricane Katrina in Ocean Springs, Miss., and then as student, dean, elder and minister at Pepperdine. Along each step in the Sturgeons’ remarkable journey, those of us “back home” have watched with pride and claimed a small, mostly undeserved ownership in it.

And so, at CRA’s Homecoming on Friday night, December 8, in the same gym where Al once rained three-pointer after three-pointer, we’ll claim that stake once again. If you’re in the area, please join us as we honor our friend, Albert Andrew Sturgeon, III, as our 2017 Distinguished Alumnus.

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Madness

17126701_1108437092601567_4197244785582407680_nBasketball used to be my thing.  I thought about it all day, every day, and dreamed about it at night–and sometimes still do.  Hour after hour alone in the driveway getting sunburned, soaked in rainstorms, and frozen in the snow and ice.  Dreaming I was Dr. J.  Dreaming I was an Arkansas Razorback.  Dreaming I was the hero of a state championship game for the C.R.A. Falcons.  Alone in my dreams.

Basketball became my community.  Countless practices.  Pickup games anywhere there were players and some version of a ball and goal.  My very best friends and mortal enemies.  Jammed fingers.  Shirts and skins.  Dunk goals.  Make-it, take-it.  We got next.  Cut-off t-shirts and short shorts.  High tops and two pairs of socks, pushed down to be cool.  Arguments and hurt feelings.  High fives and heroics.

Popular culture fueled my obsession.  “Hoosiers” hit the big screen when I was in high school, the peak of my love affair with the sport.  Rap music became a thing, and I wore out a cassette learning every word of Kurtis Blow’s “Basketball.”  Thanks to an NBA commercial, the Pointer Sisters’ “Let’s Get Excited” became my warm-up song–even though I don’t think that’s what they were talking about.

I was valedictorian of my high school class and had options, I suppose, but all I cared about was basketball.  Since I wasn’t talented enough to play at the college level, my attention shifted to coaching.  I made every home game at Barnhill Arena during my college years.  Rollin’ with Nolan.  Dreaming that I would some day coach in the madness of March.

I remember the exact day my basketball dreams began a rapid disintegration.  It is hard to forget since it was one week before my wedding.  Appropriately, I was playing basketball in a outdoor three-on-three tournament at a local festival when a nasty fall shattered my right leg in three places.  Emergency surgery led to a four night hospital stay, released in enough time to make it to my wedding in a wheelchair.  In sickness and in health, right?  

In 1994, I began a love that has grown stronger year after year, and maybe not ironically, began to lose my feelings for basketball.  With my broken leg, after the lengthy recovery, I learned that I just couldn’t play all out anymore, and that stole all the fun.  I really don’t follow basketball much anymore.  Sure, I root for my Pepperdine Waves, and sure, I fill out an annual bracket and will be rooting for the old alma mater today as they take on Seton Hall (Go Hogs!), but it is no longer the center of my life.

I’m not sad about this.  I follow other sports as a spectator and am now somewhat obsessed with running.  But what I learned is that it is possible to walk away from something that was once important to you without regrets.  What is not okay, at least in my book, is pretending something is important and then doing it halfway.