Passion for Sport Put Coach, Parent Dangerously at Odds

CANTON, Texas —  Just one person gets to call the plays. But in little Texas towns, just about everybody is a football coach.

Here in Canton, where the shops are decorated with pictures of kids standing next to their prize-winning hogs, where men in overalls descend upon the shaved-ice stand on summer nights, the title of head coach went to Gary Joe Kinne.

A 37-year-old father of three, Kinne was a star linebacker in high school and college. Many believe he could have made the pros if he were a little bigger. Two years ago, he became the coach at Canton High School. He still has the neck of a football player, like a tree stump. He loves his church, his family and his team.

Jeffrey Doyle Robertson, 45, who authorities say shot and critically wounded Kinne on Thursday before attempting to take his own life, was like many others here, an armchair quarterback.

Married to a pharmacist, the father of two sons -- including a freshman player at Canton High -- he liked to talk football, dissecting games, offering scouting reports on opponents, questioning every play Kinne called.

“It’s a small town. It’s something to do,” said Paul Bridgefarmer, a local insurance salesman and the father of two grown children. In their school days, one was a football player, the other a cheerleader.

But Robertson stood out from the crowd of sideline second-guessers.

Authorities and acquaintances say he was feared, a bully unable to contain his temper.

He collected guns. He was charged in August with disorderly conduct after shoving an assistant coach at a team picnic. The coach decided not to pursue the charges and they were dropped, but city officials ordered Robertson to stay off school property.

In November, he was involved in a “road rage” incident east of town, police said Friday, and was partially run over by a truck after he punched another driver.

He has a tattoo on his arm featuring the cartoon character Yosemite Sam, surrounded by the words: “Born to raise hell.”

Robertson was charged Friday with aggravated assault and was being held on $1 million bail. He appeared in court -- his wrists bandaged where he appeared to have attempted suicide with a pocketknife -- but he was not required to enter a plea.

If convicted, Robertson could get 20 years in prison. His attorney did not return phone calls seeking comment.

Kinne was shot once in the chest with a large-caliber pistol while he was in a field house next to the football field. He remained in critical condition Friday.

And this town of about 3,300, where many people said say they had moved to keep their kids from encountering violence like this, was left grasping for answers.

Outside the Billie Rose Floral Shop, where you also can rent tuxedos, employee Stephanie Mosier knelt in the morning sun Friday, changing the letters on a sign. It had read: “It’s prom time.” Now it reads: “Hug your child. Pray for our coach.”

“I just thought this was a better message,” Mosier said.

The Canton High coaches and their critics converge regularly at a handful of restaurants and shops that serve as gossip mills and de facto meeting halls here. Kinne and Robertson were regulars at the Backwoods Bar-B-Que. They both liked the large beef sandwich, which goes for $4.25, and sweet tea.

Backwoods isn’t far from the town square. Its floor is red-and-white tile, and there are pegs on the wall where you can hang your hat. Wooden signs say things like “Thou shalt not whine.” There is another popular placard that features a pistol and the words: “We Don’t Call 911.”

Actually, there are two of those signs, in case the message isn’t clear.

Football is usually Topic A during the lunch rush, when locals line up in front of owner Danny Shepherd -- his son Ty is on the team -- as he ladles pinto beans onto a plate and tops it with a heaping pile of beef and sausage. The Eagles have been winning the last two years, even made the playoffs for the first time in 19 years, and big things were expected next fall.

On Friday, restaurant patrons were having some big-city conversations: Some wondered if the school would install metal detectors at the doors.

“We never thought about things like that before,” Shepherd said. “Now we do.”

Canton is the kind of town where the produce stand works on the honor system at night. You take your peas and melons and leave your money in a bucket. It’s in a dry county; the nearest beer is 30 miles down the road. The local newspaper’s headlines, in previous days, had been about two local women arrested for credit card abuse and a proposal to replace 11 air conditioners at the courthouse.

The shooting is so out of character, in fact, that Canton residents say they refuse to be defined by it.

Bridgefarmer grew up in Dallas, about 60 miles to the west. He was in fifth grade when President Kennedy was assassinated. He remembers watching on the news as the world blamed Lee Harvey Oswald, but blamed Dallas too, like it was just a town of “guns and hillbillies.”

“That wasn’t right,” Bridgefarmer said.

Police said Friday that they were still trying to sort out Robertson’s motives. He appeared to have been unhappy with his son’s treatment by the school and the athletic department.

He had informed friends that he had a “hit list” of people he wanted to hurt, authorities said, including one of Kinne’s assistants, who may have been spared because he was home Thursday morning taking care of a sick child. Earlier this week, officials had informed Robertson’s son, Baron, that he could no longer play school sports because of disruptive behavior.

A lot of the debate at the restaurant the last two years focused on the changes Kinne made to the football program. The offense revolves around Kinne’s son, starting varsity quarterback G.J. Kinne, and many fans, parents and players felt it was unfair. Some players even threatened to quit the team.

“I said it myself, and you’d always talk to disgruntled parents,” Bridgefarmer said. “But he’s a talented kid. He can play football.”

Investigators have suggested that Robertson might have been unhappy with the direction Kinne had taken the football program, but many here don’t believe there is a connection. Baron Robertson hadn’t made the varsity team, and was not considered a potential star. Locals said he could not have felt slighted by an offense centered around the talents of another player.

But some have drawn parallels between Robertson and Kinne. Both seemed to be doing their best for their sons.

“If I’m a coach and my son is on the team and is that talented, I might be a little less impartial,” said Bridgefarmer, stabbing a pickle slice with a fork. “We try to be objective, but when it comes to your own children, it’s hard. Coach Kinne was jus trying to take care of his son. This guy thought he was trying to take care of his son too.”