I’ve told the story here about one of the funniest and most unforgettable moments involving one of the funniest and most unforgettable men ever in Cleveland sports media, the late, great Dan Coughlin.

Then working for Channel 8, he went to Browns headquarters in Berea in mid-October 1993 to get sound ahead of their home game against the Miami Dolphins that Sunday. It was Wednesday, when media members could participate in conference calls with the head coach and a player of the opposing team. The coach then was, of course, Don Shula.

Coughlin went to the top level of the tiny media room, placed his big tape recorder near the phone speaker, turned it on and then walked around talking to other reporters. It was a great call, because Shula spent a lot of time comparing the three Pro Football Hall of Fame quarterbacks he coached in Dan Marino and Bob Griese with the Dolphins, and before that, John Unitas with the Baltimore Colts. That was a tape to have.

When the interview was over, Coughlin went back to grab his recorder, only to find out that he had never turned it on. With his face turning beet-red, he screamed, in his slightly Irish accent, an obscenity at the top of his lungs that seemed to rattle the furniture and nearly blow out the big windows looking out onto the practice fields. Reporters covered their face so Coughlin couldn’t see them cracking up.

As all that was playing out, I thought back to 15 years earlier when I had a similar incident happen to me. I thought about that incident again the other day when I learned of the passing of Jim Dennison, the iconic, longtime head football coach at first the University of Akron and then Walsh University in North Canton, where he started the program. He was 87.

It was late August 1978 and I was beginning my second senior year at Akron. I had basically enough credits to already graduate, but I took a couple classes to stay enrolled so I could get the experience of serving as the sports editor of The Buchtelite, the student newspaper, and also be the beat writer covering Dennison’s team. What a treat! What an opportunity! I was even going to fly to the road games in a tiny airplane with two announcers from radio station WAKR, which aired the Zips football and men’s basketball games back then, and also from the campus radio station, and “Big D,” Jim Derendal, the beat writer from the Akron Beacon Journal. I was in rare air, literally and figuratively.

I set up a preseason question-and-answer interview with Dennison in his office that I would tape record. He graciously and patently spent a lot of time with me, about an hour. When we were done, I thanked him and left to go back to the newspaper and begin transcribing it. When I sat down and got to work, I found, to my utter disbelief, that, just as what happened with Coughlin, my recorder had never turned on.

My heart sank. I nearly became physically ill. This was my first big break in the business. I had just met Dennison and the season wouldn’t start for another two weeks, and I had already messed up the whole thing royally. I didn’t know what to do. I needed that interview for the story — the managing editor was counting on it — but there was no way I could call Dennison to ask if we could do it again. That would be too humiliating. Plus, he was way too busy. So, l was squarely betwee a rock and a hard place.

I went back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, trying to figure out what to do and what would be the lesser of two evils, but was probably only a few minutes. What could I do? Finally, I decided to call Dennison back and see if we could reschedule it. I held my breath as he picked up the phone and I sheepishly asked for a redo, waiting for him to scream, “No!,” and slam the phone down on my ear.

“Sure, no problem,” he said calmly, quickly and in matter-of-fact fashion. “Come on back over. We can do it right now.”

I breathed again. I bolted out the door and ran to the football office.

He couldn’t have been nicer.

I thought back to that day, just as I have 100 times over the 47 years since since it happened, and it has always been clear to me that, at that young and impressionable age that I was, if he had cut loose, which I certainly deserved for not being more responsible, I know it would have crushed me and I might well have given up and sought another career path.

Don Shula wasn’t going to redo the conference call, but Jim Dennison had no issue listening to my silly questions a second time and providing good, complete, well-thought-out answers.

Rest in peace, Coach Jim Dennison. Thank you, again, for having had, probably unknowingly, a pivotal role in my becoming a sportswriter. It’s been a great ride, one that was sent into motion by your unwavering kindness, compassion and patience.

Steve King