By: Garrett Mitchell, Staff Writer | garrett@thewoodrufftimes.com
My friend left this world after doing what he loved best, cheering on the Wolverines.
As I woke last Saturday morning, late after a night of calculating football stats, I was not prepared for the news that was already waiting for me behind 15 missed calls and just as many text messages.
Ron Ballard, my friend, former boss, and one of the biggest Wolverine diehards in the world, had passed away during the early morning hours. I was crushed. If you knew Ron, and so many in our town did, then you understand why.
Ron was more than just a devoted fan of Woodruff football. He was a beacon of kindness and compassion and a friend to everyone he met. It mattered not from what walk of life you came from, what your social status was, or what team you pulled for. You would find a friend in Ron.
To me, he was more than a friend. He was another father figure.
In August 2016, as I struggled through a bad situation at work, Ron found out. He worked as a park maintenance supervisor for the Spartanburg County Parks Department for over two decades, and he had an opening at his shop. After he told me this, he said three words that changed our relationship forever.
“Apply for it.”
I did, and it changed my life and my outlook on it forever.
I worked for Ron for six and a half years. In that time, I found a man whom I could trust. Someone I could confide in. Someone whose shoulder I cried on many times during some of the darkest hours of my life, through personal loss, and even a cancer diagnosis.
Whatever it was, Ron was there.
There was also our shared love for Woodruff football. Ron was a member of the Wolverines’ 1980 state championship team, and I bet I would be hard-pressed to count on two hands the number of games he missed from the time he played until last Friday, which would sadly be his last.
Many mornings we sat in his office, much longer than we should, as everyone else got to work, and talked about the game that night. We would eat lunch together and prognosticate even more.
However, let me pause for a moment before I say anything else. Because if Ron Ballard knew some of the words I have already typed, then I know he is up there rolling his eyes saying, “Boy, speak redneck!”
It was an inside joke we shared because of my penchant for using big words in casual conversation.
In March 2024, I had to leave Ron’s shop to accept a promotion. I changed locations to Boiling Springs. But we were never far from one another’s ears. We talked multiple times a week, mostly about Woodruff sports, and some about life. Although I may no longer work for him, his support for me has never wavered.
As he told me then, “I am only a phone call away.” And he meant it.
That was the essence of Ron. If you had ever crossed his path at any time, even if in the most fleeting of circumstances, he remembered you. He had an uncanny ability to remember names and faces. He never met a stranger, and his ability to remember was a big part of that.
But every Friday night during football season, you could find Ron and his group of friends sitting in the bleachers, cheering for the Wolverines. If the game was at home, it was always the top row of Varner Stadium, to the right of the press box. He was a fixture. He loved Woodruff, and he was quick to let you know it.
Ron looked forward to this season more than any in quite some time. He knew, as I did, that the 2025 Wolverines were going to be good. Maybe even the team that brought the elusive 11th state championship back home. If they do, it breaks my heart that he will not be there in person to see it.
But he will see it. From the best seat there is.
Ron’s last two weeks were tough. From knee surgery and complications after, he had to do something that broke his heart. He had to miss two Woodruff games. He was determined not to let it be three, and so he made it to Wren. When we talked before the game, he was happy. He was back in his element, and he felt good. In hindsight, I believe I was talking to a man at peace with himself and in his faith in Jesus, which he held very firmly.
We talked for a good while, and before I turned to go back to the field, we embraced in a hug. I am darn sure glad we did. Less than 10 hours later, he was gone.
The legacy that Ron Ballard leaves behind is one of love, kindness, loyalty, and exemplifying what it means to be a good father, husband, grandfather, and friend. One of the few things he loved more than Woodruff football was his grandchildren, who were his pride and joy.
In the days since his passing, the sheer number of tributes that have poured in does more than bear witness to the man he was (and is). If you knew Ron, then chances are better than good that he touched your life in a positive way.
I know he did for me.
I have remarked before that the generation of Wolverines who witnessed the great dynasty of Woodruff football past is leaving us increasingly more each year. One day, there will be nobody left who remembers, save for those who have had the stories passed down to them. From Ron, I have heard many that I find my duty to keep alive for future generations.
Ron was buried in his Woodruff shirt and favorite Woodruff hat, along with a jersey signed by the 2025 football team. If we do win state this year, then he will carry a piece of this team with him for all eternity. And our players got to know a little about the man who loved them and was so proud of them.
I am proud to have called Ron Ballard my friend. And I will miss him terribly. We will see him again. I believe that with all my heart. But until that day comes, let us all cheer a little bit louder in his stead so his voice can still be heard on Friday nights.
Goodbye for now, my friend. Thank you for everything, and go Wolverines!
Author: gmitchell85
