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When Rick Sparks and Marty Smith were young, Rick had been spending the night over at Marty's house and the boys took a notion to play some football. Being as it was that home was in Giles County, where most all the boys play football, or so it seems, there was nothing unusual about getting a game up.

On this particular occasion though, the fired-up young'uns chose an inconvenient time to start heaving the pigskin around. It was 6 a.m.

Now we can assume that pretty soon after they got started there was some hollering and accompanying racket. Up came the window on the house and Marty's pop, Leo, stuck his head out

"What do you boys think you're doing?" asked Leo, leaning on the sill, coffee cup in one hand and cigarette in the other.

"We're playing football," Marty said.

Leo tried to look stern but failed.

"I think he was thinking he would have done the same thing," Sparks said.

That story and a lot of others were told this week at Leo's funeral. He was 60. Too young, of course, but it had been a hard last 10 years for him, as the preacher Lee Ellison pointed out during the service. When Leo's beloved wife, Joy, died 10 years ago, the always feisty former chief financial officer at Xaloy and unceasing Giles High Spartans booster hadn't been the same.

Everything finally gave out on him a few days ago.

"I know it sounds trite, but I believe he died of a broken heart," Marty said.

Nothing trite about it.

Leo had a lot of heart to break.

Harold Chafin knew that when he was working the mike at Giles football games all those years with Leo as his spotter.

"I'd have to keep my thumb on the switch because he'd get so excited, and I was afraid it would go out over the P.A. and the crowd would hear it," Chafin said.

There was no switch to turn off at road games. Harold and Leo usually rode together to the away games. Harold always worried that one of the opposing team's fans would take issue with one of Leo's remarks. Leo, being a bright and well-read man, had strong opinions and no fear whatsoever to express them in direct language, no matter who was listening.

One year, they went to an away game at old Garden when that institution was still a high school. Similar to a number of the old coalfields football stadiums, the wrinkled terrain around Garden provided only enough room to put grandstands on one side of the field.

"Where are the heck are we supposed to sit?" Leo wanted to know when first seeing a place with no visitors side.

"I knew we were in trouble then," Harold said.

Leo didn't get out much these last 10 years. He did take good care of his mother, Eunice Smith, who still lives, and he did live to see some great moments. He saw his beloved Spartans win one more state championship and be runner-up the next year. He lived to see a grandchild, Cambron Reed Smith, Marty and Lainie's boy.

He also lived to see his own children reach great heights. His daughter, Stacy Moyer, is married and having a rich career following a family tradition teaching foreign language in the Suffolk schools. Both of her grandparents on the Smith side were teachers for many years in Christiansburg.

As for Marty, he's pretty much done it all, as far as his father was concerned. Marty played on the 1993 Giles state champion, the second of three for just-retired coach Steve Ragsdale, who joined the throng at the funeral. Later, Marty graduated from Radford University and now is an on-camera reporter for ESPN covering stock car racing. He also writes for the ESPN The Magazine.

No man was prouder of his children than Leo Smith.

"I loved to play ball," said Marty, who was good at that, too. "But all I really ever wanted to do was make him proud of me."

One year, desperate to get his father out of the house and forget for a moment his grief, Marty invited him to go to a race with him. At length, Leo agreed. The destination was Darlington, and all the way to South Carolina, Marty could tell how pumped his father was. There was a lot of talk about Dale Earnhardt Jr., Leo's favorite driver.

"You're probably not going to get to meet him," Marty told him so he wouldn't be disappointed.

Leo would hear nothing of it. When they drove into the infield, Leo was almost out the door before the car stopped rolling.

"Look," Marty said, "if you run into Dale Jr., don't tell him you're my father because he just doesn't care."

Maybe so, maybe not. No matter. Leo cared and that's all that was important.

Soon now, the magazine is coming out with Marty's first cover story. Leo would have loved to have seen it.

He would have loved to have seen it even if the topic of the article was of no particular interest, but that wouldn't have been the case. The story's about Dale Earnhardt Jr.