When Andi Adams approached Aaron Miller about coaching softball, he was a little apprehensive at first to make the jump.

Adams, who knew she was going to need an assistant coach, asked Miller if he would work alongside her.

Miller, who started coaching for Fort Dodge in the summer of 2012 and teaching in the fall of 2013, had previously coached baseball, football and basketball.

“I knew I needed an assistant, and I knew Aaron had coached baseball, so I asked him if he would be interested,” Adams said. “He responded, ‘Coaching girls?’ Then he said he’d think about it.

“Finally I told him, ‘Try it for a year. If you don’t like it, you can quit. He said ‘yes,’ and this summer would have been his seventh year.”

Miller died tragically in a car accident over the weekend. He was 35 years old.

The affable, ubiquitous coach quickly embraced both the softball program and the core Dodger philosophies.

“He took that chance and never looked back. We had a mutual respect for each other, and he immediately connected with the kids,” Adams said. “There’s just no way to replace him. The little things that he did, like always hitting the foul ball to our catcher (to end pregame infield) like (West Des Moines Valley Hall of Famer) Tom Bakey. It was so funny the times he couldn’t do it..he would just laugh it off.”

Miller was the yin to Adams’ yang. The coaches gelled well together, and Miller’s mind – driven by a “Moneyball” persona – was an integral part of the Dodgers’ most recent era of consistency and success.

“He told me, ‘I coach for people, not programs,’ and he always repeated that,” Adams said. “He was my ‘Moneyball’ guy (the movie about seeing the sport through quantitative analysis). You had to earn his respect, and he was very loyal to the program with his quirkiness. He made my sharp edges softer and always gave me perspective.

“Aaron was such an old soul. I would go to him for advice and guidance. We were connected like that.”

Miller was in his first year as an assistant principal at the Fort Dodge Middle School after spending over a decade in the classroom at FDMS.

“Aaron had things done for me before I finished a sentence,” Adams said. “He knew me on a different level. He was my right-hand man.

“We had a brother/sister relationship. I would look to him for guidance, not just with softball. He filled gaps for me. He came in with no ego and knew what needed to be done. Just a true Dodger.”

Nick Vinson, a special education teacher at Fort Dodge Senior High, coached with Miller for the past 13 years, from baseball to seventh and eighth grade football. Most recently, the duo had been assisting with the softball program together.

“Honestly, the biggest thing about Aaron was his genuineness,” Vinson said. “His desire to help people was real. It didn’t matter to him if somebody could do something for him…he had a strong conviction to be there for others.”

Vinson remembered a time last year when he needed help. Miller quickly came aboard.

“Last year when I was coaching Pride (youth softball), I needed help and didn’t have any parents available to step in (for a particular stretch),” Vinson said. “He showed up and was right there to help. He loved to spend his time with people, and was always ready to fill in.”

Vinson, who is also a FDSH graduate and former athlete, carries the same hometown values as Miller did.

“It runs through you, and was the same through him,” Vinson said. “He wanted his town to succeed – his school and its reputation. He wanted people to feel that same pride.

“He knew how to instill that into all Dodgers.”

Vinson knows moving forward will be difficult, but it’s something his daughter and the community must navigate together.

“I feel awful. Aaron has been at my house since Ruthie (Vinson’s daughter) was born. He sat on our porch and hung out. He’s been a coach, a teacher and a friend, not just to me, but to her. That’s going to be hard for her to deal with,” Vinson said. “Going to Rogers (Park) and the Softball Connection is going to be tough. But we have to remember how great of a guy he was, and the influence and impact he made on so many people in so many ways.

“It just doesn’t seem real.”

Miller also had a softer side that made it easy to interact with the girls. It helped lighten the mood whenever the pressure got too intense.

“He just had so much attention to detail and everything,” Adams said. “He had a little notebook with all the things we needed. He wasn’t the rah-rah speaker. He didn’t do all of the things I did, but he helped me be the coach I am and coach my way.

“He was our sticker guy for the girls to put on their helmets. We had our mantra set up this year as, ‘We Will.’ Now it will be, ‘We Will for A-Mill’ in his honor.”

What started as filling a void quickly became a special bond between Adams and Miller.

“He was just the guy who was there for everyone,” Adams said. “He would have Diet Dew, Mentos and gum ready for me. He knew what everyone liked and wanted. I know it will hit me hard later with all of these memories. He would always text me about little things and I won’t have that now.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

Adams met with the team on Sunday night. It was an emotionally-challenging experience, but memories and thoughts of Miller softened the grieving process.

“At their age, these girls haven’t had to deal with a ton of loss – especially tragic losses,” Adams said. “We don’t realize how lucky we are if we get to live a long life. You can never understand why a life is suddenly cut short.

“We need to remember his ability to care, and his love for humans in general. Through our memories, we can continue to grow his legacy.”

Coaching and teaching wasn’t the only love for Miller. He also announced numerous football games as a color commentator for Fort Dodge.

“His love for the Dodgers was unbelievable,” Adams said. “I think he had more Dodger gear than anyone I know. He had a passion for this town, its people and its grit. He respected and cared for every program.

“He announced games and worked the scoreboards. He did countless things to help anyone.”

But it was never about him, but rather, the motivation to brighten someone else’s day or help a person in need.

“It’s important that people always remember the good things he did every single day,” Adams said. “He would make people feel better about themselves. He found the bright side to everyone, and used his one-liners to make them feel special.

“We need to pay it forward — like Aaron Miller would.”