I never met anybody quite like Dale Wolfley, and I doubt I ever will. “The Wolfman’s Call,” on which we worked together, was more than a sports talk show. It was a magical ride chauffeured by a larger-than-life personality.
PREAMBLE: As a personal remembrance, there’s more to the story than what I relate here. Dale lived a full life, and Bob Herzel and John Antonik do a wonderful job telling his story, especially when their offerings are read in tandem. You can read their respective accounts here and here.
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Writing shouldn’t be a tall order for somebody like me who writes daily. But it was an excruciatingly tall order this time because of the emotions involved. Dale Wolfley made it so–in life and in death.
Dale died unexpectedly last Sunday, and his passing marked the end of a personal relationship that spanned months, not years.
But anyone who knew Wolf understood that time isn’t the best way to measure his effect on you. Intensity is, and (in that regard) Dale’s needle always pointed to “high.” Those anointed were invited into his world, which included an extensive network of diverse relationships, and you were catapulted into an energy field of thoughts, plans, activities, and aspirations. The best thing to do–indeed, the only thing to do–was hold on and enjoy the ride.
We were an unusual pair because he was a football guy, and I’m a retired professor. Because I like to analyze, ponder, and profess, Dale called me “an academiac” (his portmanteau, academic + maniac). After I got carried away one day on the show, Dale declared, “Frank, you can’t help yourself, can you?” Of course, he was right.
Dale and I were different on the surface, but the surface view didn’t hold up. Dale did what I did–analyze, ponder, and profess–all in his own way, not just about football either. When he phoned to share his thoughts about this and that, I realized that we had a common worldview about college sports and how it was evolving, what college athletic administration should be doing, what a university needs to be, and how those in charge should lead.
There was something else that we shared, and Dale frequently mentioned it on The Wolfman’s Call, including in the last social media post of his life. He ended that message with these words: “The Wolfman’s Call, Where the Truth is Always Part of the Call!”
What did Wolf mean? Authentic and principled, Dale was all about unvarnished communication, including speaking truth to power, especially about WVU athletics and the university writ large. He avoided what I call “happy talk.” When issues came up about WVU, he never looked the other way, got defensive, or made excuses for missteps. Instead, Dale would fearlessly call out WVU athletics and the university, imploring both to do and be better, never sarcastically, mind you, or in a demeaning way.
Those on air with him would sometimes talk afterward about whether he and we went too far. The answer was “never” because Dale was the voice of critique, not criticism. I often used that word with him, too, both on- and off the show, because I knew (by critiquing) he was sharing an honest assessment. Moreover, Wolf had singular and sincere intent. Whatever isn’t measuring up, let’s get it fixed, and then do things the right way. While Dale loved WVU athletics and the university, he was unwilling to be a homer, i.e., a person with an uber-strong attachment and a severe case of biased judgment. Dale embraced the former but never suffered the latter.
The more I got to know Dale, the more I wanted him to take us wherever it was that we were going. But that’s where things got complicated. There wasn’t much time (as academics would say) to “sense make.” By that, I mean the time to understand what was happening; the pace was too fast and intense, and I wasn’t in charge anyway. Translated, that means this: while Wolf was alive, I never fully appreciated who this man was, what he represented, and how special the experience was.
But now that Dale is gone, there’s time to reflect, and (with that) the emptiness I feel is palpable. With Wolf’s omnipresence gone, his departure has created a void. The saddest part of all is not having the opportunity to see where/how things might have evolved. Dale was just getting started, after all.
That seems strange to say about somebody in his mid-50s who had done so many things in life, including a lot of media work. While The Wofman’s Call wasn’t his first media rodeo, it was a different type of rodeo. Dale called it his “New World,” and for good reasons. He was on his own, Wolfman’s, Inc. The benefits were obvious because he could call the shots, but the downside was steep, too, financially, career-wise, and more.
While that sounds like Dale had the choice–doing The Wolfman’s Call or not–I got the clear impression it wasn’t. I don’t know how to express this other than to say it this way. Some of us get to the point where it’s no longer possible to do what is expected of us without looking in the mirror and wondering who is looking back. I’m not necessarily talking about right or wrong but about fitting comfortably into a work environment and culture. Organizational priorities change over time, employee performance expectations change as well, and what at one time “felt right” can change, too, especially when you have strong feelings about where things should be headed and when what you value runs counter to the espoused preferences of those in charge. Then there are co-worker temperaments, relationships, and all the other things that make up a workplace–some for the better and some for the worse.
Dale had to figure out how to reconfigure things to continue his lifelong love and passion–college football and WVU–under his flag. That allowed him to do his professorial thing (analyze, ponder, and express) from 30,000 feet. It also meant that he would be unencumbered by obligations and expectations associated with working for others. It was a high-risk proposition, certainly, but it was well worth the risk given his name recognition, reputation, and following.
Courtesy LinkedIn
As he always did, Wolf poured himself into the endeavor–the business side and the technology side–establishing and expanding the number of commercial partners and improving the quality of the show’s feed. Offering a once-a-week program would have been difficult enough, but his was a four-times-a-week show and then, when the football season began, a Monday-Friday offering, with some shows also done on the road.
I was part of the scene soon after launch, witnessing its growth and development, and was pleased to be part of the action. I learned a lot and met wonderful people who appeared on the show and viewers who engaged religiously, whom I now count as friends.
Wolf treated me graciously, providing a platform from which I could talk about important things to me, and in ways that I preferred, first on “The Frank Fear Hour” and then as a member of “The Fabulous Five” panel. He promoted my book and this blog, The Sports Column, and made me feel at home. Indeed, I was home. It was West Virginia, at WVU, and talking about sports. What a blessing!
But what Dale Wolfley did for me was nothing new or different. For Dale, it was always about what he could do for others. Besides, I had authored a book on football brotherhood, which Dale Wolfley embraced and endorsed with all his heart.
Then, suddenly, that heart stopped beating.
5:34 p.m., Sunday, October 8. A text message arrived from “Pod” (Rob Podbesek), one of The Band of Brothers, West Virginia University football, 1966-70, and the book with the eponymous title that launched my relationship with Dale Wolfley. “Call me, Frank!!! We have a death.” Pod didn’t wait for my response; he rang first. “Frank,” Pod began, “Dale Wolfley has passed away.”
… a bit of us died with him.
Courtesy WV Sports Now
Wolf’s theme song, one last time ….
Go wild in a world that wants to tame me.
Can’t catch me on the run because I’m gone.
Yeah, I blaze trails and set fire to what’s behind me.
Looking back, I’m on the run.
I can only be what I’m meant to be.
Feels good when I’m living on the edge.
WATCH ME NOW! We’re going put a stake in the ground.
Can’t stop me now. I can’t stop and won’t back down.
WATCH ME NOW! WATCH ME NOW!
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To Keith “Hawkeye” Hawkins, Darryl Prue, and Al Johnson, we spent many enjoyable days together, and to stalwart viewers Mike Rollins, Kelly McCourt, and Timothy Green…. Wolf appreciated all of you as much, and perhaps even more, than you did him.
Frank this a really nice tribute to Dale. You have shown the readers what it was like to be in the eye of the human tornado that was the Wolfman. There was no road map or GPS when it came to running with him. You had to think fast and be on your toes because he was a runway freight train ready to come off the rails at any moment. Then he would slow it down coming into the station and wrap everything up in a nice neat little bow at the end by summarizing everything we would discuss. He was straight forward and to the point. The truth wether it fit the narrative or not.That was the Wolfmans Call and I enjoyed every minute of it with him and all of us.You might have known Dale better than you thought because you captured the heart and soul of the man in your writing. Dale was more then a friend he was my brother. You don’t find friend like Dale very often but when you do you know you have a friend till the end. Well the ride is over but this is not the end it’s just a minute to catch our breath because I know I will see me brother again.
Outstanding article Frank. Thank you so much for talking about your personal relationship with Dale as those of us who knew him personally. He was a ball of energy, unique in every way, and bigger than life. Dale was a true Mountaineer. I miss him and look forward to the day we are reunited on the other side and can rejoice eternally in our days as friends, brothers and Mountaineers!
I knew Dale from his teenage years. Thanks for painting a picture of his media years which was, in many ways, similar to the Dale I knew. Zany, but serious and kind. One of a kind.
That is the true meaning of being a Mountaineer. I think you did great, Frank, and thank you for writing this article. Your fan, Tim. Let’s go mountaineers!