On Saturday, February 3rd, we lost a local hero. Paul Bamford passed away after spending his life as a pillar in the community.
Paul was a loving father, husband, and passionate coach. He was a big man, and not just physically, even though he towered over all of us, and he had the biggest heart. When Paul walked into a room the energy shifted, in a way I can’t quite put into words. It didn’t matter if you had one conversation with him or had known him for years: you felt like you knew him. He simply brought out the best in people.
Paul and I grew close over the four years I spent golfing for him. In my sophomore Journalism class, I wrote an article about Paul because I wanted to highlight who he was and the role he played in leading the “Bobcats of Oyster River” to our first golf state championship title. When I wrote that article, I never would have imagined drawing from it less than two years later. Now I’m writing a tribute to the man that played such a defining role in not just my life, but the lives of so many others.
Paul graduated from Oyster River High School in 1971 after a standout athletic career in both soccer and basketball. Paul then went on to study at UNH before a lengthy career with Liberty Mutual.
Paul coached for over 40 years, but I know from his stories that he had been making an impact on the community for longer than that—all with the mission of making a difference in someone else’s life.
Paul approached coaching in the same way he approached life: the most important thing was to be a good human being. It was never the result, but the way in which we conducted ourselves that mattered. He told us to live our lives intentionally, with purpose, to work hard to achieve things that mean something. Paul didn’t just preach this creed though, he lived it.
“Live your dash,” he’d say, lending his voice to the line he had printed on his business cards. It was from a famous Linda Ellis poem, that emphasizes the importance of making the most out of a life summed up by the line between the day you’re born and the day you pass away.
“It’s hard to find someone like that,” recalled Aidan Whalen (‘22) who remembers Paul not just as a golf coach but also as a family friend. “His positivity towards just about everything was very special.” Aidan couldn’t be more right. No matter how much Paul had on his plate, he was always able to find something to smile about.
Another of my former teammates, Claden Daubney (’22) reflected on the day we “Raised the Plaque,” Paul’s motto for our 2021 season. In 2020, our team finished runner-up in the Division II Golf State Championship, and that lit a fire in us all. Paul fostered that fire for the next 364 days. “He was so proud of us. I’m glad we won it for him.”
We went into the 2021 State Championship on a mission. On that day, Paul gave us a pep talk, reminding us that we could do it and that he believed in us. When the scores were posted, and we found out that we had won, I could see the tears welling in Paul’s eyes. After we were handed our trophy and medals Paul stepped off to the side while the team took photos. Paul had talked for years about his experience winning the first soccer state championship in school history, and he wanted that for us. He didn’t want to make it about him or draw attention to himself, and that was Paul.
But that wasn’t what we wanted. We’d all worn ribbons that day for Paul, to recognize and show how much he meant to us. We dragged Paul into the photos because this was as much for him as it was for us. I don’t know if he noticed how large a role he played in all of our lives. At our banquet that year, the conversations were of course about winning the State Championship, but the emotion that echoed through the room was our collective sense of admiration for Paul.
My teammates all had their own unique relationships with Paul and in turn their own favorite memories. My co-captain Myles O’Quinn remembered the “one thing you [had to] be careful about when around Paul [was] the word “like.” He continued by saying “That man was not a huge fan of that word. He would give you a couple warnings, but when he noticed you got a little out of hand, you better break out your running shoes and get stretching because you [were] about to run a whole marathon with your golf bag on your back.”
From those times Paul playfully threatened to make us run the length of the Oaks parking lot for saying the word “like” too many times, to him driving us out to different holes on what felt like the back of a turtle, we always had fun.
As our team has come together to mourn the loss of our beloved coach, one message reverberates through every conversation: he was a special guy.
I was astounded by the number of people who reached out to share their Paul stories with me—overwhelmed even. I thought I knew the extent to which Paul had impacted so many, but in every story, I was reminded again and again of his genuine love for life.
We often remember the last powerful memory we have with someone. For me that was an emotional conversation we shared about our time together. We talked about how, no matter how many times we’d disagreed, or shared tense words with one another, we considered each other family, and how that would never change.
I didn’t know then that it would be the last time I would stand on my tip toes to hug the man who’d come to mean so much to me, but it’s a moment I will relive for the rest of my life. I struggled to write an ending because it felt like carving the date on the other side of Paul’s dash. But this is not the end of his legacy. Paul Bamford was a pillar, who will live on through the dashes of so many others. September 26, 1953 – February 3, 2024, and maybe right now I’m focused on that ending, but in time I know I will be able to reflect and remember the dash.
– Delaney Nadeau
Mouth of the River 
Leave a Reply