The bear of a man with a cartoon bear on his T-shirt reading “Out of Hibernation” ambled across the football practice field.

A white wrap around his right knee, a bit of a limp in his stride, Bob Chesney didn’t let any limitations prevent him from having a discernible spring in his step.

His namesake son is about to make his coaching debut at UCLA.

Clapping as he walked, the elder Chesney – who goes by Senior – said a few encouraging words to one player in the stretching line, then fist-bumped another.

This is what he does now, a volunteer defensive line coach keeping everyone upbeat.

He’s always ready with a saying – “Monday Morning Madness” is a favorite – or a motivational prank, once even wearing the helmet of an opponent during a team meeting at one of his son’s previous coaching stops to fire up players.

“He’s really there to help coach their spirit and their heart,” the younger Bob Chesney told The California Post, “and he does a great job of it.”

Sometimes he’ll put packs of Mentos or gummy bears in his pocket, tossing them to players while telling them to have a “power pill.” He’s a voice of reassurance to players having a bad day, as well as a source of inspiration to anyone within earshot.

“Some days, you know, it gets tough, it’s like you’re a little sluggish, a little tired,” defensive lineman Darold DeNgohe said, “but Senior has always got the energy.”

Before his son’s second-to-last game at James Madison, Senior told edge rusher Sahir West to show everybody why he was the Sun Belt Conference’s Freshman of the Year. West went on to single-handledly engineer the fall of Troy with 5½ tackles for loss, three sacks and a forced fumble.

“They couldn’t block him,” Senior said.

A childhood of service

Relentlessness is a trait the elder Chesney instilled in his son before he could throw a football.

Often rising before dawn in his hometown of Kulpmont, Pa., little Bobby would make his bed and do homework – even in the summer – before completing chores. During the winter, he’d go shovel snow off elderly neighbors’ driveways. 

“There was no just going along for the ride,” the younger Chesney said. “You have to add value.”

It’s a way of life in a place known for coal mines and a hardened existence. Senior’s youth football coach invariably had a black cigar sticking out of one side of his mouth and a wad of tobacco embedded in another.

“He’d drink with his chew in, he’d eat with his chew in,” the elder Chesney said, “and he was mayor of the town at one point. He was a little Italian guy, tough as nails. … You’re eight years old and he’s screaming, but the kids who couldn’t take it quit.”

Senior never did, going on to coach his son at nearby Our Lady of Lourdes High. Looking back, the elder Chesney said he tried to combine the grit of his old coach with a little more finesse.

“I like to think that I’m a semi-compassionate person too,” Senior said, “but discipline was the big thing because we had to out-discipline, out-in-shape the other teams if we were to have any chance to win because our talent was limited.”

As one of the few stars on his father’s team, Bob never came off the field. Quarterback, defensive back, kickoffs, punts – you name it, he did it. His father even ran a few plays where he’d bring in the tight end at quarterback and have his son line up at wide receiver.

“Thank God nobody ever died on me,” Senior said, “because they ran and ran.”

Chesney’s shared journey

When his son eventually followed him into coaching and landed his first job running a program, Senior hit him with a question.

“What do you mean Salve Regina?” the elder Chesney asked, unaware of the tiny private Catholic university in Rhode Island that played NCAA Division III football. “What’s that?”

The family came to love the beautiful coastal community before Bob climbed another rung on the college football ladder, going to Assumption, an NCAA Division II school. Then it was on to Holy Cross and James Madison before landing the UCLA job in December.

The elder Chesney accompanied his son to each place, attending meetings and roaming the sideline during games. Senior and his wife, Claudia, arrived in L.A. after making a 3,262-mile drive while zigzagging around Route 66 to visit historic sites and family.

They settled into an apartment a short distance up the hill from campus.

“As long as I can find the football facility every day and get home,” said Senior, who will turn 77 in November, “that’s all I’m worried about.”

Senior compares his son to an architect assembling a project, saying he laid the foundation at his first coaching stop before erecting walls and crossbeams at his second stop, putting up a roof at his third stop and installing furniture at his most recent one.

So what’s left to do at UCLA?

“Maybe it’s landscaping, I don’t know,” Senior said. “Put some fruit trees up or something.”

The father believes that what’s made his son successful everywhere he’s been is staying true to the same principles.

“Everything that he does has a purpose,” Senior said. “It’s not just, ‘OK, I’m going to a bigger school, I have to change my ideas to make them bigger’ – football’s football. You have to block, you have to tackle, you have to throw the ball, you have to catch the ball. And how you do it, in a way that you’re comfortable saying it and doing it, is what’s going to make it successful because the kids can see that.”

Part of that winning formula has involved the presence of two Bob Chesneys – the coach and his peppy sidekick, neither at ease without the other.

“It’s just like the older shepherd watching over the sheep,” Senior said, “while the younger shepherds are running around catching the sheep.”