At a Touchdown Club meeting many years ago, Coach Matt Painter shared a story that has stayed with those who heard it—not for its basketball strategy, but for the deeply human truth it carried. It began not in a locker room or on a polished hardwood court, but in an old car, on a dusty backroad, chasing down the promise of potential.
Freshly named head coach, Painter was recruiting in South Alabama, hungry and a little lost, when he spotted a nondescript restaurant—a simple cinderblock building with a sign that just said “Restaurant.” Inside, he found himself the only white man in the room, but he wasn’t there for politics—he was there for a good meal. When the man behind the counter asked what he wanted, Painter replied honestly. Told they were serving chitlins, collard greens, black-eyed peas and cornbread, he didn’t flinch. “I’m from Arkansas,” he said. “I’ve probably eaten a mile of them.” That simple answer disarmed the room.
The man, surprised and pleased, served him a heaping plate. In return, Painter showed respect. He paid his bill, left a fair tip, and when the man asked for a picture, Painter promised to send one. And he did—on the back, he scribbled, “Thanks for the best lunch I ever had.”
Years passed. Painter, now more seasoned, found himself again in the South, recruiting a talented offensive lineman. The visit didn’t go well—the player was leaning toward Auburn. Painter moved on. But two days later, the phone rang. It was the same kid, now saying he wanted to come to Purdue after all.
When Painter asked what changed his mind, the boy said: “My grandpa found out I turned you down. He said I wasn’t going nowhere but Alabama and wasn’t playing for nobody but you. He still has your picture in his restaurant. Said you kept your word to him, and to him, that meant everything.”
Coach Painter was stunned. He had no idea that simple act of kindness would echo through the years. That restaurant owner—just a man sharing a meal with a stranger—had never forgotten that moment. And neither had his grandson.
Painter visited again, and though the menu had changed, the respect had not. The place looked better. The ribs were memorable. But what stood out most was the reminder that integrity, kindness, and following through on your word are far more powerful than any game plan.
As Coach told his assistants: “It doesn’t cost anything to be nice. And the rewards can be unimaginable.” A promise kept over a plate of chitlins helped build a bridge that no recruiting pitch ever could.
That is the kind of wonderful news that reminds us: charact
er still matters.
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