In early 2025, we received word that Coach Bill McCartney had passed away. We knew Bill and his son, Tom, that coached at Fairview High School in Boulder, Colorado where our daughters attended. He was a wonderful dad, grandfather, friend and a man of football. The fiery head coach of the University of Colorado, he built a program that went from underdog to top dog, achieving college football's ultimate prize: a national championship in 1990. His name became synonymous with gridiron greatness. But there’s a significant chapter of McCartney's life that few know—a chapter not about Xs and Os, but about hearts and souls.
Let me take you back to the late 1980s. McCartney was at the height of his career, leading the Buffaloes to national prominence. Across state lines, in Nebraska, there was Ricky Simmons—a once-promising wide receiver for the Cornhuskers. Simmons had all the talent in the world, but his life took a tragic turn. After his football career ended, he spiraled into drug addiction, eventually finding himself behind bars for drug distribution. It would’ve been easy for most to write Simmons off as just another cautionary tale. But not Bill McCartney. When he heard about Simmons’ struggles, McCartney didn’t shake his head in judgment or walk away. He leaned in.
The decorated coach, known for his fiery sideline demeanor, quietly began visiting Simmons in prison. He wasn’t there to talk football. He wasn’t there to lecture. McCartney came as a man of faith, offering something Simmons had long since stopped expecting from the world: compassion. Ricky Simmons later admitted he was stunned. Why would a man like McCartney, a national figure, care about someone like him—someone who’d seemingly wasted every opportunity? But McCartney wasn’t interested in Simmons’ past. He was invested in his future.
McCartney spoke about forgiveness, redemption, and the God of second chances. He wasn’t preaching at Simmons—he was walking alongside him. And step by step, those prison visits began to change Simmons’ outlook. When Simmons was released, he didn’t just turn his life around—he became a motivational speaker, using his story to help others escape the grip of addiction. But this story doesn’t stop there. McCartney’s compassion for Ricky Simmons wasn’t an isolated act. It was part of a larger mission that would soon take shape.
On the field, McCartney was known for uniting players from every background—Black, white, rich, poor, urban, rural—calling team meetings to tackle hard conversations about race and unity. In 1990, shortly after his championship season, McCartney founded Promise Keepers, a men’s ministry dedicated to fostering faith, accountability, and reconciliation across racial and cultural lines. Its heartbeat? The same belief that drove him to Simmons’ prison cell: the idea that every man matters and that unity is a calling higher than competition. Bill McCartney’s career may have been defined by the scoreboard, but his legacy? That was written in places far from stadium lights—in prisons, in locker rooms, and in the lives of people like Ricky Simmons. So, the next time you hear his name, don’t just think of championships or the roar of the crowd. Think of the quiet moments of compassion, the belief in second chances, and the power of reconciliation. Here’s to Coach Mac- a significant difference maker!
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50 min