Jones - already the longtime coach at Missoula Hellgate - said he'd have to think about it.
While mulling over the offer Jones says he took a stroll past the Knights' hall of fame, a 30-foot stretch of hallway where Hellgate displays its state trophies, school records and all-time greats.
Realizing he was just getting warmed up, Jones stayed at Hellgate. And stayed. And stayed. And stayed.
During a distinguished career that spanned 43 years with the Knights - the last 36 as head man in track and field - Jones and his charges won a state championship in 1980, with two more in 1971 and '72 when he was an assistant. He coached 93 individual state champions and hundreds of athletes while running up records of 531-397 in boys' duals and 412-187 in girls' competition.
Late last month Jones announced he's calling it quits, ending a career that saw him outlast eight principals, six athletic directors and five superintendents.
“The kicker is, I've also gone through seven different gym floors,” Jones jokes.
His various tenures have at one time or another included 20 years in girls' track after taking that team over in 1988, 15 years as cross country head coach, 20 years as an assistant football coach, six as assistant wrestling coach, 31 supervising the school's intramural programs and 40 in the classroom. He was inducted into the state track and field Hall of Fame in 2004.
Still fit and as gregarious as ever at 65, Jones says he figured now was a good time to walk away, with the Knights set to graduate a large group of seniors that produced a smattering of fine individual performances at last weekend's State AA meet in Helena.
“It's just a good transition period right now Š ,” Jones says. “What a good time to have a young coach, a vibrant coach come in and maybe have some philosophical changes and whatever else they want to do.”
This week he began packing up a cluttered office at the school, where piles of shot puts and discs litter the floor and the desk is covered with photocopied pages about proper technique and training habits. There are trophies on a table against one wall and tucked into a corner is a bound volume of student newspapers dating back to the '60s and '70s.
“I'm a pretty good collector,” he says. “Just cleaning out my office I've thrown away 72 boxes because my wife wouldn't let me bring them home. I had a lot. There's just no place else to put it.”
Even though the season is over and the Knights turned their year-end awards banquet into sort of a going-away party for Jones, this whole retirement business still doesn't quite seem real, he says.
“We're just in here packing up and it still seems like an everyday job Š,” Jones says. “My guess is it will really hit home next year, when you don't get back to it.”
His exit constitutes nothing short of the end of an era at Hellgate, where between the years 1977 and 1987 he says he and a revolving staff of talented assistants had the Knights finish first or second in their division every year.
This week, at least one colleague called Jones, “the last of the old guard,” of coaches not just at Hellgate, but in the state. A tireless recruiter and motivator who is blessed with a gift of gab that sometimes can't be restrained by the rules of English grammar and syntax, Jones leaves a legacy of success through positive reinforcement at one of Montana's smallest Class AA high schools.
“From this point forward, no one will ever spend that much time in Missoula coaching in one sport,” says Dan Gilman, who bowed out of coaching in 1997 after almost 25 years alongside Jones. “It just won't happen ... Once, I asked him how long he'd keep it up and he said, ‘In my heart, I still love climbing on the bus and heading out of town to a meet. Until that changes, I'm sticking with it.' ”
The love has not faded for Jones, but he says he's looking forward to relaxing and traveling with his wife, Bev, during his retirement. Still, at the Knights' awards banquet on Wednesday, he warned the athletes that - retired or not - he'll find time to sneak out to the track when they're competing.
“I told the kids I'll still be there during cross country and track,” Jones says. “I'll be there to cheer them on and talk with them and let them know I haven't forgot them.”
Mark Koefelda was a sophomore when he suffered the only loss of his high school career in the high jump. During an early season meet at Butte, Koefelda surrendered the top place on the medal stand to Helena jumper and future UM basketball player Chris Spoja.
He says Jones was there to help get him back on track.
“He always knew when you could do better than what you were doing Š,” Koefelda says. “Sophomore year he put a little pressure on me, just saying ‘You know, you should have won that meet.' And he was right, I should have won it. He said ‘Just think about it, so next time you do win.' ”
Koefelda never lost another event as a high school athlete. He went on to set the state record in the high jump for Hellgate as a senior in 1993, when he cleared 7 feet, 1 inch.
His mark is one of a trio of all-class state records set by the Knights under Jones' tenure that still stand, along with Dan Tabish's 193 feet, seven inches in the discus in 1982 and 14.34 seconds in the 100-meter hurdles by Claudine Robinson in 1989.
By his own admission, Koefelda was a skinny freshman at Hellgate when Jones plucked him out of a gym class and said he ought to come out for the cross country team. People will tell you that's just Jones being Jones, constantly on the hunt for new talent to bolster his squads.
Soon Jones saw what Koefelda had to offer in the high jump - he'd already begun training in that event during middle school in Clinton - and started fine-tuning the underclassman's natural talent with a little bit of solid technique.
“He helped me harness that (talent) a little bit and he definitely taught me the correct form of the high jump,” Koefelda says. “After that it wasn't just running and jumping over the bar. My career definitely began with him showing me the technical aspect.”
Koefelda went from not being able to clear 5-8 to soaring higher than any other prep jumper in the state, before or since. At the time of his graduation in '93, Koefelda was called the most dominant Class AA jumper of the past 30 years.
He went on to jump for Montana State, but says he never found a coach who could keep him as focused and motivated as Jones.
The bond still exists. Currently living and working in Butte, Koefelda turns out to see the Knights track and field team whenever it is in town. He's made special trips to meet top Hellgate jumpers like Kelsey Cooley - who won the Class AA title in 2002 before going on to a career in track at Seattle Pacific University - and Christian Segota, who won three events at the 2007 state meet and now competes as a decathlete at UM.
Jones seems to take special delight in being able to introduce his jumpers to past greats, as well as the fact he's had at least one high jumper compete at state each season for the past 27 years.
“It's really good to be able to say ‘Champion, meet champion,' ” Jones says. “That's really great. And then I sit in the middle and say, ‘I think I had a little dabble in this.' ”
Koefelda says Jones separated himself from the pack of coaches with his enthusiasm and love for the sport.
“You would make his year with your success, that's how much his heart is in it,” Koefelda says. “He's definitely the best coach I've ever had. Hands down. There's no question.”
It seems like every coach that ever served with Jones has a story about him. Or 20.
Most recently, Gilman says Jones called him on the phone last week to let him know he was hanging it up and immediately started getting emotional. With his voice breaking, Jones seemed to struggle to tell Gilman what their friendship meant to him over the past 30 years.
“When it comes to the machine of Hellgate track and field,” Jones said. “I want you to know that you were always an important clog in the gears.”
Gilman paused.
“Uh, Ron,” he said. “I think you mean cog in the gears. Clog is a plumbing term.”
“No,” Jones said, emphatically. “I mean clog.”
Call it what you want, but Jones has always seemed to have a way with words. Or maybe words have their way with him.
Whether he is telling his coaches they ought to leave a nice “futurity,” for the wait staff after a team breakfast or saying he thinks his team will be mighty “competible,” at an upcoming state championship, there's always been more than a little Yogi Berra in Jones.
Gilman says humor was an important part of Jones' coaching arsenal.
“He found something funny in every situation,” Gilman says. “That's a nice way of managing maybe 10 coaches and sometimes 130 kids at one time. It's a great trait to have.”
“I never saw the guy down,” adds Mark Latrielle, who ran for the Knights while Jones was an assistant from 1968-72 and set school records in the 100 meters, 200, 400 and the now defunct 800-meter relay that all still stand. Later, Latrielle served as an assistant under Jones from 1980-95.
“He was always joking around,” Latrielle says. “He just loves coaching. I thought maybe he'd never quit.”
There is still a chance that quitting will not come naturally to Jones.
He is already warding off other job offers. A few years ago, he and his wife moved to Frenchtown and the Broncs have called to see if he's interested in helping them out. Plus, he's pledged to continue lending a hand with the Knights if the new coaches there need some assistance.
“I love being at the meets,” he admits. “I'm kind of a gamer. Those five days of practice during the week can sometimes be as hard on the coach as the athletes. But, boy, on Saturday you get on the bus and you're bringing your product to the field and that is really great.”
Coaching track in Montana is not easy. There is the weather, plus a constant turnover on the coaching staff as well as the need for the head coach to have good knowledge of all 17 events.
Maybe in the end, it was Jones' unique blend of good humor and unrelenting drive that made him a fixture in the track community for more than four decades. Sometimes, he needed both just to get by.
“There were many times when we were just screaming at each other,” Gilman says. “I was so mad at him I couldn't believe it and vice versa. The next day he would come literally put his arms around me and say, ‘You know I love you, right?' and I would say, ‘Yes, sir,' and he would say, ‘We'll work through this just like we've worked through everything else.' And then off he'd go, with his bag of bats and balls to have gym class.”
And off he goes.
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