Where Are They Now? Coach James Atkinson

As the Friday night lights of football season return, so do the memories of coaches who shaped us—not just as athletes, but as people. For many who played at Lexington Senior High School, one name stands out: Coach James Atkinson. He was more than a coach; he was a force of nature, a mentor whose impact extends far beyond the final whistle. A graduate of Appalachian State University and a history teacher by trade, Coach Atkinson’s lessons were a blend of discipline, strategy, and life wisdom.

I remember his practices vividly. You didn't dare "loaf." Coach Atkinson had a way of commanding the field, pacing as he lectured, his words echoing with a conviction that demanded attention. He wasn’t about sending players to the dreaded "hill"; his method was the relentless up-down, a slow mental grind designed to build resilience. Yet, beneath that tough exterior was a nurturer, a coach who gave 100 percent to get the best out of every player. He saw our potential and pushed us to meet it.

As his defensive end, I spent a couple of years trying to keep up. He’d move me all over the defensive line, a strategy I didn't always understand as a young, impatient player. I’d question his authority, copping a plea about his play scheme. I didn't realize he was teaching me to be a hybrid—to adapt to any circumstance. This skill would prove to be one of the most valuable lessons I'd ever learn.

The Salisbury game my senior year is a story I'll never forget. I was having a stellar night, causing havoc despite us losing, when Coach Atkinson sent in a sub. Furious, I told the other player I wasn’t coming off the field. A moment later, I saw Coach’s look and sprinted to the sideline, knowing the consequences were coming. “Boy, what in the heck is wrong with you?” he yelled. I told him he took me out of the game. His reply was simple: “I took you out for a breather.” My young self, still stubborn, insisted he had "taught me better" and that I wanted to "go out with a bang." He eventually put me back in, but not before I learned a crucial lesson: in life, things won’t always go your way. You have to learn to stop, breathe, and reset.

But the most enduring lesson Coach Atkinson preached was about being a saboteur—someone who repeats the same mistakes over and over. He pushed us to take accountability and never settle for average. This philosophy wasn't just for the football field; it was for life. It was a call to continuous improvement, a rejection of complacency.

Many years later, people still ask about Coach Atkinson. His path after leaving Lexington took him through Thomasville High School as a basketball coach, Ragsdale then to Parkland Magnet High School in Winston-Salem as an athletic director. But he has since returned to Thomasville, where he is now the athletic director at Thomasville High School.

To Coach Atkinson: Thank you for all the "rough days of preparation." You didn’t just make me a better player; you made me a better man. You instilled lessons that have guided me long after I hung up my cleats. Happy Friday, Coach. Your legacy lives on in the lives you’ve touched.

—Thomas