I’ve been fishing since I could walk. He has always been by my side.

Zachary Alan Zaetta

Al's Grandson

Al Ludwig is “Pappy” to me and my brother Jake. Growing up, some of our best memories are times spent with him fly fishing on the beautiful streams in Western PA. He taught us everything we needed to know.He had a way of turning those simple mornings into life lessons. The way he explained the importance of patience, the behavior of the fish, and the exact way a fly should be tied are more than simple fly fishing tips. These intricacies opened my eyes to the ways of the world. You must be patient, precise, and always mend the line.

Before going on to play baseball at the University of Massachusetts, I spent some time at a junior college in Northern Iowa - it was in the middle of nowhere where shucks of corn outnumbered people. There wasn’t much to do beyond baseball, so naturally, on weekends, I dragged my friends to the streams. Those mid-western boys knew a thing or two about ice fishing...it was my job to teach them the true artistry of fly fishing.

On one windy Friday afternoon, we took to the streams. I remembered how Pappy emphasized the importance of patience...we needed a lot of patience that day because the fish weren’t biting. We started to convince ourselves that the waters were void of life. Standing by the stream, I found myself whispering a little prayer...and added, “come on, Pappy...help me out here...guide my hand like you used to.” I cast one final time as the sun went down. I mended my line.Almost as soon as my first mend, I felt a tug - firm, surprising, unmistakable. Any fisherman knows that this is the best feeling in the world. At that moment, it sure felt like Pappy was right there with me. Although he never got the chance to see me play college baseball, I know he was there too. People who love you don’t leave; they just find new ways of showing up. He was the best fishing buddy a grandson could ever ask for...and still is.

"There is more to life than wins and losses"...by Tom Minnick, LVHS Class of 1979

It was January of 1978 and the Ligonier Valley wrestling team had just finished fourth at the Westmoreland County Wrestling Tournament. On January 6th, Ligonier would face Derry Area, the team that finished just a few points in front of Ligonier at the county meet. More intriguing was the match up of coaching brothers, Ligonier’s Al Ludwig and Derry’s Rick Ludwig. Arguably, the 1978 team may have been the best team in the history of Ligonier wrestling. Ligonier had never beaten Derry, but after the excellent showing at the county meet, hopes were high. On the night of the match, the LVHS Carey Gymnasium was standing room only with high anticipation. No one saw the blowout coming. Maybe the stage was too big for us to handle or Derry just had the better team. For whatever reason, Derry dominated the match, winning 11 of the 13 bouts. Many of the individual matches were close, but they all landed on the Derry side of the scoreboard. After the match concluded, I remember Mr. Ludwig’s demeanor in the locker room. It was not a pleasant place to be. I had known him since my days wrestling in the Junior Olympic program, and never did I see him so upset. What worried me even more was that I had a first period shop class with him just eleven hours away. I had no idea what to expect, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. As I entered the shop the next morning, I found the Mr. Ludwig that I had known for many years. He was smiling and was happy as can be (the Mr. Ludwig that I loved as my coach) and had put the previous evening’s match behind him. The life lesson learned that morning was that there is more to life than wins and losses. In my career as an educator and coach, my teams and the individuals I coached suffered some crushing defeats, but I learned on January 7, 1978 by Mr. Ludwig’s example, not to let that loss ruin your day, that the sun will rise tomorrow regardless of how tough the loss.

“A day I'll never forget...” by Ryan Codrick, LVHS Class of 2001

I don't remember if Brandon Shipley and I were freshmen or not, but we were fairly young members of the Ligonier Valley Golf Team and a little over-confident. We began our round at Ligonier Country Club and not long after, Al pulls up in a golf cart and says something along the lines of, "I'm going to beat you boys today and I'm only going to use a 7-iron!” He proceeded to play the rest of the round, as promised, with his 7-iron. I remember him hitting thin drives off the tee, running balls onto greens, and even turning the club open and hitting sand shots. Needless to say, he won and shot a 42 I believe.

There were a lot of lessons learned that day. One, be creative. Understand that you can use your clubs to hit all types of shots. A 7-iron leaned forward can be used like a 4-iron just as easily as it can be opened up to hit out of the sand. Using your imagination is key. We also learned how valuable those different types of shots can be when faced with wind and other elements. And most importantly, we learned not to mess with the Chief. He sure gained our respect that day and we never forgot what that guy could do on the golf course with just a 7-iron. I still use this story today when teaching the high school golf team just as he taught me when he was my coach. A day I'll never forget...

“Some of my favorite memories are much more than memories…they are life lessons, that had a major impact on my life as a young adult, father, and coach.” Tim Cairns, LVHS Class of 1976

Al was “Mr. Ludwig” to me most of my formative years. He was my wrestling coach and shop teacher for 3 years in high school and he became a lifelong friend. He had the ability to read you as an individual and knew what buttons to push to get the most out of you. I’ll always remember and often joke about him being the “One More Time” coach.

Like it was yesterday, I remember running wind sprints up and down the main hall in the high school at the end of practice on a dark, cold, winter night. You lined up with a partner and the whistle would blow. You would then sprint down the hall and back again with all you had. After running a number of these, he would say, “ok, one more time and we’ll be done.” You didn’t think you had much left, but down and back you would go with all you had. You’re done right, NO, he would look at his watch and say, “ok, one more time.” Then off we would go down and back again. The invaluable lesson was that when you thought you had absolutely nothing left in the tank, there was more in there for another all-out sprint down and back again. What I also learned was, when he said “one more time” he was lying.

While in the midst of raising 3 boys, 2 years apart with something scheduled almost every night of the week, Al told me it would go by in an instant and to do whatever it takes to spend as much time as possible with them. I took his priceless advice to heart, and did exactly that, with zero regrets.

Balancing Relationships and Discipline

I had the pleasure of coaching Junior Olympic Wrestling with Keith Daugherty in the mid to late 1980’s. We had great success and also had a lot of fun coaching a sport that we loved. Keith was a wonderful coaching partner.

Since we spent a lot of time together, we were able to talk about many things including the coaches that influenced us the most. Keith made a comment about Mr. Ludwig that really captured how I felt about him. He said “Coach Ludwig made me feel special whenever I was around him. But when I talk with other wrestlers, they say the same thing. He made us each feel special.”

It made me realize how unique Mr. Ludwig’s talent was. He coached me in basketball in 9th grade. He coached Keith in wrestling. He coached others in golf and track. It didn’t matter which sport it was, nor how much experience and technical expertise he had in the sport, or whether it was 1969 or 2001. He impacted each of us in a way that was both personal and universal in the way that affected all of us across many sports over the course of five different decades.

Professionally, I did direct care work with delinquent youth in group homes and later administered behavioral health treatment in a variety of settings. I liked to describe the perfect child care worker or therapist as a person who could balance both developing a relationship and setting boundaries with behavior and thinking. In short, balancing relationships and discipline. It is the quintessential dichotomy of task vs relationship orientation you might read about in textbooks about organizational management. Most people are good at one, but rarely strike that perfect balance of being good, if not great, with both.

Mr. Ludwig was one of those rare people that was great at both. He could be incredibly personable, engaging, positive, and instructive. But he also could be one of the most intense coaches, competitive in every way, and raised the temperature in the room any time he stepped into it. He would get in your face if you weren’t focused or performing up to your potential. He would push you to do better than you thought you could ever be. He was inspirational. I remember him saying in a half time pep talk, that any one of us, if we put our minds to it, could play basketball at any level if we worked hard enough. He did it in a way that we all believed it. Even me, who was one of the shortest members of my 9th grade class. He gave you the feeling that all things great are possible.

Inspiration is a powerful thing. It has a way of creeping into your head at times when you need it most and at times when you expect it least. Sometimes it lasts a lifetime.

Dirk Matson

Class of 1973

“Fishy, Fishy, Hooky, Hooky”

It was the spring of 1973, our senior year. We were only a month or two from graduation.

We both were from Darlington. Dave lived in Upper Darlington and Boozer lived not far away in Lower Darlington. Yes, back then even Darlington had subdivisions!

On this particular morning, we decided to skip school and go fishing. We walked from Dave’s house to the creek, Four Mile Run. Four Mile run comes from Donegal Lake, with a lot of fish variation in the water. Chain pickerel, mud puppies, rock bass, trout and other species of fish lived in the stream.

We loved the Darlington area. It was a great place to grow up, not just for fishing but also for the swimming. Went over the Hidden Valley Bridge, which is no longer there. It was a popular place to fish and swim. The creek was five or six feet deep at the bridge. We started fishing.

Boozer being Boozer, attempted to call the fish in, by calling “fishy fishy, hooky hooky.” It drove Dave crazy. In spite of Boozer’s best efforts to talk the fish onto our lines, we didn’t catch anything there. We decided to walk to the “Big Hole” to try our luck. It was about 300 yards away. We were heading up stream, and low and behold, who should we run into! Mr. Ludwig and Mr. Nipps!

We were startled. We didn’t know what to think. They were so close, we couldn’t avoid them. They were on the same side of the stream as us, so we could not divert away from the stream. They were too close to run from them. The thought ran through our minds, “what are they doing here?” They couldn’t be skipping school. Mr. Nipps was the truancy officer. Surely he was looking for truants. Maybe they were looking for us in particular. And Mr. Ludwig was such a straight shooter. Surely he was there to help Mr. Nipps catch us.

Then we noticed the fishing rods in their hands. We decided to talk with them. Boozer was going to do the talking. So without even waiting for us to give an excuse. Mr. Ludwig said “We won’t tell, if you won’t tell!” So we never said a word to anyone until now.

Dave Mignogna and Bruce Long

Class of 1973

Deaf Deer

My one of many stories that are about my time with my father comes from my first year hunting deer. I have a lot of special memories hunting, fishing, golfing and much more to tell, but this one seems to stick out more than any others to me right now.

It was fall of 1991, I was 13, just got my first hunting license and was eager to join my father in his traditional first day hunting crusade. My grandfather Floyd Ludwig would be at our house at 3:00am, we would be at Ruthies Diner when they opened at 4:00am to have a quick bite too eat before we set in our long day of hunting. My father had a friend who gave us permission to hunt on his property which was awesome because we could pull right up to the tree line and would get my grandfather positioned first closer to the car, and then dad and I would make our trek, flashlights and all to our spot that we scouted earlier in the week. I always thought my dad was crazy getting into the woods that early. At that time being 13, the most important thing to me was sleep, but I went kicking and screaming anyways because my dad wanted me to and even though I complained a little, I enjoyed that time with him just him and me in the woods.

Dawn broke, and it sounded like world war three started. Gun fire from all over the valley could be herd. I thought that was the most amazing thing. It was mid morning and I was having some hot cocoa and my dad was having a little coffee, when he says to me. “Get Ready!” I was like, Huh? And he pulls his gun up looking through his scope and says look where I am looking. My heart is pounding, trying to remember what he had taught me about using my Winchester 243. I pull up and look around and find a heard of about 4 deer. 3 doe and one six point. When I saw that, my heart pounded even harder. They were about 200 yards away and I said to my dad. I think I can get him. He says, “Patience, let them come to you.” So I tried to control my nerves the best I could and waited and watched them walk. About 15 minutes goes by and wouldn’t you know, they were really close to us now, probably 30 yards. My dad whispers, “take him”. So I pull up, heart pounding again, and I pull the trigger.

Now before I finish here, my whole life I have been around and grew up with the LPA hunting and fishing club. These guys were like family to me and the ones who are still here, are family to me. Leading up to the big hunt, I was told by John Weimer to go for the neck. If you hit a deer in the chest, yes it will drop, but it could ruin a lot of good meat, so hit him in the neck and he will still drop, but will not ruin any meat.

So back to my shot, I pull the trigger, I think my eyes were closed, and the gun goes off. I then hear my dad say.. “You got em’, You got em’, wow. Great shot!” I open my eyes, and stand up shaking, follow my father to start tracking this deer. The deer did not move, dropped straight down. I was so proud of myself, and my dad was proud of me too and said “what a heck of a shot.” I hit the deer right in the neck. Tom, John, Grimmy, mother and the whole crew was so proud of me that I was such a deadly shot.

Well, deadly shot or not, I think it was just a fluke. That same season my dad and I had doe tags. We went up to LPA to hunt doe later on in that season. This was a little more tame as far as getting into the woods.

We went up early one Saturday morning and got to our spot right around 8am. We got a herd of doe come through a little before noon. When the heard came into range, I pull up and get her in my sights. Again my heart is through the roof, I am very nervous and I pull the trigger. Boom, I look and she is still standing there. Damn, I missed! I reload and take another shot. Boom, I look again, still standing there. The Deer looks at me and bends down to continue eating. The other in the herd have run off after the first shot. I load up again, now my 243 has an expanded clip and I think it holds 6 shells. I managed to burn through all 6 shells missing each time while this doe just continues to meander down the ridge side eating and walking not paying me any mind. I had to move multiple times to get into a better position to try and shoot this doe. My dad was laughing and couldn’t believe I was such a bad shot, but was very supportive saying, “ calm down and aim”. I made it about 100 yards away from my original site and went to reload and realized I am out of bullets. I left my bullets back at the original tree. I had to run back up, get my bullets and run back down and reload again. I think in the second clip I burned through all the shells. This doe was frustrating me, taunting me. My dad and my Tom Weimer were having a field day. They all couldn’t believe that this deer was still here after 11 shells went flying past her. On the final shot of the second clip I hit her. She fell straight down. Everyone cheered. We get up to her and of course I nailed her right in the neck like I was supposed to. My dad is smiling and looks at me and says, “Jason, only you would shoot the only deaf dear on the whole mountain.” I said, I was trying to hit the neck dad, he said, “yup, you sure did, and every other tree in the woods.”

Jason Ludwig, OD

Class of 1996

Balancing Relationships and Discipline

“Fishy, Fishy, Hooky, Hooky”

Deaf Deer

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