It was 1984, and I was a freshman in my very first high school wrestling match. That would have been tough on any kid.  But  coming into the match, I was aware of the pressures and implications of two 2 state champion brothers before me and a proud father, loaded with expectations.. You get the picture.  Before a sold-out gymnasium, the moment had come for another Cochran to show his stuff on the matt.  This was no ordinary defeat. I lost 11-2 and my opponent, a wrestler from Northern, beat me up good. The match was such a blur --  I just remember feeling helpless and sorry for myself.  It was humiliating.  After the match, I left the gymnasium to find a small area of the high school where I could cry.  I cried until  Dad found me.  The  first thing he said to me was “Did you enjoy that? Remember it  because it was your last wrestling match." With tears running down my face, he told me he was not going to let me injure the Cochran name like that again, and that I should find something else to be great at.  Tough, right? But it was exactly what I needed to hear,  and he knew it.  Dad’s philosophy on athletics mirrored his philosophy on life in general...-  It didn’t matter what you did, just so long as you had a passion for it and were willing to work hard to achieve outstanding results. 

When I was 13 years old, Dad asked me to join him on one of his day-long sales conventions near Philadelphia.  He had rented a small space in a room full of other companies' representatives  selling their products.  This was an automotive convention and there must have been over 200 companies exhibiting in this humongous  convention hall.  Dad was selling this blue paint suit and helmet.  It was a suit that painters would wear when they went into a car booth to spray-paint a car.  To be honest, it didn't seem like that great of a product but my father was convinced it was terrific. -- He believed in it. For the first 4 hours, I sat in that  booth and watched his gift, his genius, of persuasion.  I marveled at his ability.   Dad's booth was the busiest, and this was no accident. Dad could communicate and  tell a story better than anyone.   I could see then that people just wanted to be around him.  He was smart, articulate and passionate.  By afternoon my father insisted I help him sell.  For the next 6 hours I continued listening, learning and  yes, selling --  as a 13 year old!  

Tim shares a recollection from his childhood from the 6th grade at Schaefer Elementary, which took place a some years before the Principle Kyle matter. - Timmy witnessed a fifth grade boy beating up on a younger and considerably smaller boy in the 2nd grade, on the school playground. He recalls seeing the older boy on top of the younger boy, punching and kicking and hearing him call nasty names. After observing only a moment of this ugliness, Tim jumped in, pulling the 5th grade boy off of the 2nd grade boy.  Tim taught that bigger kid a lesson. When Tim was taken before the principal, (yep, Mr Kyle), and asked to answer for his actions and told that Dad would be called and he’d have to answer to him, -- Tim calmly explained that he did not fear Dad’s response at all. Tim told the principal that he had acted the way Dad expected him to. He was defending a kid who was being bullied, who could not defend himself. Indeed, when Dad showed up at school, he told Timmy that he had done the right thing, standing up to the boy who had been bullying the younger boy, and told Mr. Kyle that Timmy would not be apologizing. He had nothing to apologize for.