Doug Provenzano woke up in the one bedroom apartment, rolled over and wrapped his arm around his mom's cold body. 

As much as he could, the then 11-year-old Provenzano helped take care of his sick mom. Terrified, he did so one final time after calling 911 that dark morning.

But his mom, Peggy Margaret Ann Derfler, never woke up.

An autopsy listed antidepressants and alcohol as the cause of his mom’s death, Provenzano said. Derfler’s esophagus also had holes, caused by the stomach acid and food she regurgitated almost daily, he added.

Provenzano’s dad, Lou, picked up his inconsolable son the day after Derlfler died.

Tragedy to triumph

There are many pivotal moments in Provenzano’s life that led him to become the man and high school football coach he is today.

But nothing impacted him as much as what he suffered with his mom. It’s tragic.

But how Provenzano persevered and is beginning to thrive as a football coach and self-appointed shepherd to his football kids is also inspirational. As for his somber past, it's still ever present.

But Provenzano is now using it for good while connecting with kids facing troubles of their own. Provenzano also is pushing himself as well as his flock to win not only in life but on the field as well.

It’s still early in his high school coaching career, but Provenzano is gaining a reputation for maximizing his players’ talents, doing so first while winning multiple national youth football championships with Arizona teams.

It all begins with how he delivers his stern yet compassionate-filled messages, which are changing the culture of Barry Goldwater's football program in Phoenix and reverberating around campus. On the field, a 3-1 record for a program that went 1-19 the previous two seasons and, according to azfootballarchives.com, has never won more than six games in its 30-plus year history is proof that Barry Goldwater is finally starting to turn the corner under Provenzano, his staff and players.

The word is definitely getting out about the up and coming coach who's just settling in at Barry Goldwater.

“Nobody will outwork Doug,” said Brophy’s 12-year coach Scooter Molander.

Turning point No. 2

Provenzano was still angry at the world about 11 years ago when a nine year old began to change his perspective on life and coaching.

During his first season coaching youth football in Arizona, Provenzano believed his game plan and boys were much more superior than an opponent. But the opponent proved him wrong.

After his team's blowout loss,  Provenzano declined to shake the hands of the opposing coaches. As an irate Provenzano prepared to berate his nine year olds, one of his players jumped for joy over the post-game snack his team’s parents brought.

“They have rice crispy treats,” the kid yelled approvingly.

That innocent moment hit Provenzano like a ton of rice crispy treats.

A nine year old’s playfulness after what Provenzano believed was a deflating loss had just slegdehammered the first bricks off Provenzano’s wall of anger.

“I went from the meanest thing to crying and laughing in an instant,” Provenzano said. “I changed that day. My time as a player had come and went. All that mattered was the player now.”

After the game, Provenzano went home to Surprise and did some soul searching.

“I just sat there (at home),” Provenzano said, “and said, ‘Who are you? Why are you really a coach? You aren’t coaching because you love kids. You are not coaching kids because you want to help change children or be a mentor or be a positive force. You need to take what that word (coach) means a little more seriously.’”

Provenzano decided to step away from the game and do some more soul searching.

During that one-year period of self-reflection, his life was blessed with a lot of positives. It started with ways to control his bouts with anxiety.  

Provenzano also finally began listening to an inner voice he said he kept ignoring.

“I asked Him (God) to allow me to be who I am,” Provenzano said. “But allow me to truly help people who are in need. Use me as that.”

After his mom died, Provenzano said he used to believe that God failed to protect him.

It was around that time that Provenzano also reconnected with a childhood friend, Stacy, Provenzano's wife.

Stacy’s caring touch brought more stability to Provenzano. Next to the front door of their house, Stacy, a Hawaii native, and Provenzano hung up a sign that reads “A beach girl lives here with her big kahuna.”

Doug Provenzano, his wife Stacy and some of their youth football players pose during the Provenzano's wedding day. Photo courtesy of the Provenzanos. 

Stacy accepted the broken but rebuilding project that was her husband as he was.

“Deep down Doug's probably the most sensitive man I’ve ever met,” Stacy said. “He’s really good at communicating. That was a big thing for me. My daughter really loves him, and that helped a lot. I know what he’s been through, but I also know he had a lot to give. I always root for the underdog."

Provenzano also doesn’t hide his feelings for the person who also helped turn his life around.

The coach and some of his Barry Goldwater players were recently interviewed during the azpreps365 Saturday morning radio show. He was asked on air who’s his No. 1 backer.

“My rock is my wife (Stacy),” said Provenzano on air. “She is everything to me. I tell the (Barry Goldwater) kids a lot that my wife is the assistant coach you don’t know. She gives me a lot of great direction.”

Stacy got Provenzano to start thinking about coaching Arizona youth football players again after detecting that he wasn't happy working as a contractor.

"She asked me one day what I wanted to do with my life," said the 38-year-old Provenzano. "No one had asked me that. Not even myself. I spent three days thinking about it. I told her I want to use football to help shepherd kids, children that have broken lives. And Stacy said, 'That's the greatest idea I've ever heard of.'"

With his wife and faith blowing the sails, Provenzano charted his course.

A chance meeting with his high school quarterback, Jarred Biggs, in northern California, set Provenzano on another fruitful path. When Provenzano returned to coaching youth football, Biggs couldn't believe Provenzano wasn't utilizing the Wing-T, the old by but still reliable run system that the two friends ran when they were in high school.

They pulled out a pen and paper and, on the hood of Provenzano's truck, started designing plays. Provenzano then immersed himself into studying and attending clinics, learning every detail about the Wing-T. At the higher levels of Arizona high school football such as the 5A Conference, where Barry Goldwater competes, the Wing-T isn't run as much as the spread.

During the radio interview, Provenzano explained why he loves using an offense that's been around since the early 1950s.

“The Wing-T is a machine,” he said. “It’s like an engine with a lot of components. I look at it like you’re restoring an old car, and there are many parts and components. And you have to find out where the pieces fit in the engine. I’m a huge believer in schematics and old school football. You learn by mistakes and learn to make it better."

Provenzano could have easily been talking about himself.

Once he got the engine of his Wing-T purring, his youth teams began to speed away from opponents. In his six seasons as a youth coach, Provenzano went 239-12 and won four national titles in Florida with Arizona kids and a handful of state titles.

Some of Doug Provenzano's championship hardware. Photo courtesy of Provenzano. 

Thirty-nine kids he's coach moved on to play college ball. But a reminder.

What might be his true calling is how he is impacting the lives of kids. He said he treats every player like he's part of his family.

“I am not just your coach for a season,” he said. “I am your coach for the rest of your life. The joy that football brings me is that I’m helping people."

So much so that his Surprise home become a safe haven for some of his football kids from broken homes.

A couple of the kids he's coached have wound up living with him. Currently, one of his youth football players, DeAndre Robinson, spends days at his house along with Provenzano's sons Donovan and Roman, daughter Kassidy and step daughter Kaylani. Another player Provenzano shepherded is Marquise Corley, who introduced himself to Provenzano five years ago, when Corley walked up wearing just one sock and with a hole in his shirt.

Doug Provenzano and his wife Stacy with their kids (right to left) Donovan, Roman, Kassidy, Kaylani and DeAndre Robinson. azpreps365 photo. 

Corley asked Provenzano if he could teach him to play football. After his parents were killed, Corley went to live with an aunt, who he still spends time with.

This year, Provenzano sat proudly as he watched Corley walk during his 8th grade promotion.

"(Provenzano) is like a dad and a role model," Corley said. "He's a good person. Honestly, it's the way he talks.

"He pushes me. When I started playing flag football it didn't feel right. I wasn't giving a full effort. But he got everything out of me. He sets goals for me, and when I reach them, he sets another goal."

A Provenzano post on Facebook about his relationship with Corley went viral.

When it comes to relating to kids with tough upbringings, Provenzano remembers what did he needed as a child in order to make a connection. Provenzano said he has dealt with the pain of his past, but he is still also tapping into it to remember the person he misses dearly--his mom.

Surviving

It was in the water where Provenzano's mom, Peggy Margaret Ann Derfler, was free, where her problems likely felt weightless.

A former competitive swimmer, the tall Derfler could swim long distances with a young Provenzano in tow in a boat. She loved water so much that she preferred to take baths, never a shower.

Derfler grew up in Pennsylvania with parents of German descent. As a sophomore in college, she met a football player, Lou Provenzano.

Lou was raised in Pittsburg surrounded by family members. There was always a large, Italian family feast to attend.

"Peggy was a very sweet, attractive woman with a good family background," Lou said. "We became friends and started dating right away."

After college, and when Lou started working as a teacher in New Jersey, Derlfler and Lou married.

Not long after they had Provenzano. Lou said that Derfler didn't drink when she was in college but started doing so after a doctor recommended that she drink wine to develop breast milk.

There was another trigger. It happened when she was in college and went to a slaughterhouse during a class trip, Provenzano said.

Derfler stopped eating meats and dairy products after that trip. After two-plus years in New Jersey, the Provenzanos moved to a San Francisco Bay suburb, Fairfield, where Lou became a very successful traveling sales person for Fujifilms, realtor and owned three one-hour photo lab stores.

In Fairfield is where Provenzano also discovered that he could hold his own as an athlete but where Derfler also continued to drink. Lou said he paid for rehab treatments and also sought the help from Derfler's parents. After a rehab stint, Derfler bought Provenzano a new leather jacket and sneakers, but those items were stolen from Provenzano at gun point, Provenzano said.

"I tried to do everything to help her," Lou said. "I felt unsafe going to work. Doug was just a child."

Provenzano said he tried his best to help take care of his mom, including hiding beer cans.

After eight years of marriage, Lou and Derfler separated.

Lou said he fought for full custody of Provenzano, but a judge ruled that Provenzano had to spent at least the weekends with his mom. The rehab treatments and psychological reports of Derfler are confidential and were not allowed in court, Lou said.

Derfler moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Fairfield. When Lou was traveling, Provenzano, who was eight when his parents separated, often stayed with his mom.

Derfler kept one of the photo lab stores after the divorce, but her focus was elsewhere. Doug remembers having to hold his inebreated mom up at stores.

One time, Provenzano sat on two pillows so he can see above the steering wheel when he attempted to drive his mom to a hospital after she blacked out.

"I was scared to go to school, because she (mom) would black out and hit her head on the tile," he said. "I carried and assisted her. It seemed to me like I was a man at 10 years old."

One of Provenzano's other responsibilities was finding creative ways to eat since his mom hardly did and didn't purchase much food, he said.

Provenzano was prohibited from consuming meats, but that didn't keep him from finding them. An Italian and Thai restaurant were at the strip mall where Derfler's store was. Provenzano asked the restaurants' owners if he could work for them for a couple of hours each day.

In return, Provenzano told them to just pay him with meals, he said.

So his mom wasn't aware of his routine, he asked the restaurants' owners if they could each give Provenzano a dollar after his shifts so that he could show his mom what he was supposedly working for.

Other times, Provenzano took money from his mom's store's donation box that stores sometimes set up for charities and then went to a nearby McDonald's.

"It was odd and confusing, but I knew she (mom) was sick, and I was normal," he said. "I have to fend for myself and go with my instincts, I told myself."

His schemes to eat were clever but something no child should have to do.

Fortunately, he also had an outlet--sports--which brought some normalcy and structure to his unbalanced family life. Provenzano met one of his biggest coaching influences, soccer coach Jim Walbolt, during this time.

Walbolt coached Provenzano for 12 years. He was big on fundamentals, and his softhearted coaching approach was something Provenzano desperately needed at that point in his life.

Walbolt passed away recently.

Dough Provenzano and his youth soccer coach Jim Walbolt, Provenzano's first mentor. Photo courtesy of Provenzano. 

“Coach Walbolt was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known,” Provenzano said. “He was respectful and kind and very patient with me. He was one of the first persons to approach me at my mother’s funeral and tell me everything was going to be OK.”

Walbolt also told Provenzano that he would be a great coach some day.

Provenzano still runs his postseason banquet ceremonies they way Walbolt did.

"Jim called me up to the front one year during a trophy ceremony, and he said, 'I've never met any kid with more leadership qualities and as competitive and mentally strong as 'Dougie Pro.'"

Despite Derfler's struggles and arguments over not having food at home, Provenzano said he couldn't imagine life without her.

He looked forward to their weekend trips to lakes and seeing her in action as she swam.

"I was terrified to lose her," Provenzano said.

The nearest relative, Derfler's mom, Posie, lived about 40 minutes away from Derfler.

He thought he'd end up at a foster home if his mom wasn't around. The night before Derlfler died, Provenzano and his mom went about their regular bath routine.

Since the water heater in the apartment wasn't working, Derlfler boiled water on the stove. She asked Provenzano if he could fill up the bath after he showered.

He did so but the drain stopper wasn't working properly. The water was gone when Derfler went to the bathroom and lost her temper, something she was prone to do, Provenzano said.

They eventually went to sleep.

The following morning, Derfler's cold body immediately alarmed Provenzano. He jumped out of bed, called 911 and returned to his mom's side.

He waited.

He knew his mom hadn't just blacked out. This time, Provenzano said he knew she was dead.

Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. 

The then 11 year old waited 30 minutes for first responders to arrive. 

"It was the longest 30 minutes of my life," Provenzano said. "You find the closest thing you know to God is dead. Is this real? Is this a dream? No. It's real."

The frightened Provenzano thought about what would happen next as he stared at his mom's frail body.

Durfler was 35 when she died on Nov. 18, 1990.

Doug Provenzano and his mom sharing a moment at one of their favorite places. Photo courtesy of Provenzano. 

When the first responders arrived, Provenzano remembers a police officer consoling him.

A turbulent period was over, but recovering from what he experienced would take time. 

One of Provenzano's saints, Posie, stepped in to start taking care of him when his father was away, but Lou cut down on his traveling after Derfler died.

"Posie kept me on the straight and narrow for as long as she could," Provenzano said. 

When asked to describe his life immediately after his mom died, Provenzano said, "Normal."

He didn't have to worry about his next meal.

His life was filled with sports, school and security. It felt right.

But as he grew, Provenzano sought love and acceptance from the wrong crowd. In junior high, Provenzano started to work out constantly, and by the end of his freshman year he weighed 210 pounds.

His anger, which walled off his insecurities and pain, also seemed to increase after every rep in the weight room. Trips to juvenile facilities became common.

Fighting got him expelled from school, and Provenzano finished high school at a continuation school.

The former lineman also blew his chance at playing college football. But the downward spiraling ended when another important kid entered his life, Donovan, Provenzano's first child.

When he was 19, Provenzano buckled down and married his first wife.

They wound up moving to Arlington, Texas, where Provenzano ran his own plumbing company, was a contractor and another turning point in his life sprung.

After fixing a leak at a home, Provenzano pulled his vehicle over, parked and began sobbing.

"It hit me," he said. "My life was leaking. I had every tool I needed to fix a problem, but I couldn't fix my marriage."

In Texas, Provenzano also rediscovered his love for football.

After work hours, he'd spent time sitting in his car watching a local high school's football team practice. He did it so much that the school's football staff believed he was spying for another high school.

After learning that wasn't the case, Provenzano was invited to become an assistant coach.  The winds of career change were beginning to blow for Provenzano.

Doug Provenzano with his dad Lou and one of their youth football players. Photo courtesy of Provenzano.In 2005, Provenzano got a call from his father, Lou, who retired early and moved to Arizona and suggested Provenzano to join him. Recently, Lou and Provenzano had their first serious conversation about Derfler.

The relationship between Lou and Provenzano is close now despite the hardships Provenzano experienced with his mom while his dad was travelling.

When Provenzano and his family moved to Arizona they stayed at one of Lou’s properties. Lou was Provenzano's offensive line coach at the youth level up until this year.

After the move to Arizona, Provenzano and his first wife divorced.

They share custody of their three children.

Transformation continues

Provenzano shaves his head bald.

His arms are covered in tattoos, and his chest is broad. But it was something else that caught the attention of Scooter Molander, Brophy’s two-time state championship head football coach.

"I was impressed with the way Doug was working with young men," Molander said. "I've been around coaching since I was born. You just know when you see a good one. We hit it off right away. He's a guy you want to follow. He's a natural leader."

Brophy coach Scooter Molander (wearing headset) invited Doug Provenzano (lifting Molander) to join Brophy's coaching staff. Photo courtesy of Provenzano. 

After the meeting with Molander about six years ago, Provenzano joined Brophy as a volunteer coach.

He was the first football coach at school and the last one out, soaking up lesson after lesson from Molander and former Brophy defensive coordinator Gary Galante, Seton Catholic's current coach. Provenzano did anything he could to help out, including clean bathrooms.

He eventually became a paid assistant at Brophy. After three and a half seasons with Brophy, Provenzano felt it was time to become a head high school coach.

In 2014, he landed at Paradise Honors, a charter school in Surprise that launched its football program two years before Provenzano arrived.

It took Provenzano just two seasons to take Paradise Honors to the playoffs for the first time. But after those two winning seasons, new Paradise Honors' leadership went in a different direction.

Provenzano was out as head coach but still works at the school as the maintenance director. Last year, when he applied for other head coaching jobs, Provenzano didn't coach at a high school but continued coaching his youth football team.

Barry Goldwater eventually came calling. But during the interview process Provenzano was in Florida competing for another national American Youth Football title. Barry Goldwater administrators had no choice but to do a phone interview with Provenzano.

Barry Goldwater interviewed 10 coaches, but Joyce Cooley, the school’s principal's secretary, who sat in during the interview process, knew even over the phone who the school should hire.

"I knew right from the start," said Cooley, who is in her 7th year with the school. "That doesn’t happen a lot, but I just had a feeling. I’m so proud of this kid (Provenzano). I adore him and his wife. He’s a good man. He’s about family, faith and the kids.”

During the interview Provenzano asked Barry Goldwater's administrators for permission to train their kids.

Once he got the job, Provenzano then asked for permission from his players to become their coach. His humble introduction won the administrators and players over.

Provenzano then went to work rebuilding the program from the ground up. He got a company to donate grass seed for the football field.

The field goal posts were repainted, and Provenzano maintained the practice fields.

The football program had only $44 to its name but Provenzano helped raise about $25,000 with the help of his players. With the money, they purchased new black and yellow uniforms and top of the line Zenith football helmets.

They got rid of equipment that was around since the 1994. And they purchased a sideline replay system that teams are using these days.

After the exterior of the football program started to sparkle, Provenzano went to work on the players.

“My dad's a very emotional coach,” said Provenzano’s son, Donovan, who stayed at Paradise Honors so he can graduate with his friends. “But he pushes the holy trinity: academics, family and football."

Provenzano approach is also military-based.

Structure. Discipline. Sacrifice.

(Story continues below video.)

He uses a lot of military terms and shapes in his play calling. The terms and shapes also help Provenzano, because he's dyslexic.

He's got a tough exterior, but Provenzano also sprinkles his messages with love.

"Football is a violent, aggressive game," he said. "But you have to play it with class and genuine love for each other."

Barry Goldwater, located on 27th Ave. on the northwest corner of the Loop 101 and the I-17 interchange, presented other challenges for Provenzano.

The campus is a Title I school and offers free and reduced lunch to more than 50 percent of its student body. But Provenzano understands clearly the personal struggles of the majority of Barry Goldwater’s population.

“I’m in awe at some of these kids and what they go through,” Provenzano said. “Some have it way worse than I had it and still have this great attitude. They are still coachable. How special must that kid be?

“I felt this program was me 8-9 years ago. It was broken."

One of those special kids is senior receiver/defensive back Kyson Kately. 

His mom moved to Mesa after his junior year, but Kately wanted to keep attending Barry Goldwater. Before finding somebody who can bring him to school, he used to wake up at about 4:30 a.m. and take a couple of different city bus and light rail routes to make the 40-minute trip to Barry Goldwater.

“I feel safe here (Barry Goldwater),” Kately said. “I feel like I have a family here. These boys love me, and I love them back."

The challenges Barry Goldwater and its players confront didn’t keep them from making a big opening statement.

They defeated a North Canyon team, 52-19, that starts arguably the state’s top-rated senior, Solomon Enis, to open the season. After four games, Provenzano’s Wing-T attack leads the 5A Conference with a 321.8 yards rushing average per game.

The early success of the football program and Provenzano’s life and football lessons are echoing around Barry Goldwater.

“Oh my gosh,” said Cooley during a recent interview. “This morning my wrestling coach, who has nothing to do with football program, he was talking to a maintenance guy. They were talking about how we are (3-1). How there’s a different feel around campus, a difference in how the football boys walk and relate to other kids. It’s positive, and Doug is a huge believer in what you do as a player and person behind the scenes can help change a school. It’s not just about you.”

But the early success hasn’t come without its issues.

Three players from Paradise Honors transferred to Barry Goldwater this year, prompting whispers of recruiting. The three transfers’ hardship appeals were denied, according to the Arizona Interscholastic Association.

Provenzano has severed his ties to his youth football program. He said he doesn’t want others to think he is using it as a feeder system for his program.

Provenzano has never been disciplined or suspended from coaching during his career.

“We back Doug, and how he is running his program,” Cooley said.

Barry Goldwater also is currently battling injury issues.

The team will be down to 20 players in its game against McClintock on Friday. But Provenzano has faced tougher obstacles and still pulled through.

He likely will continue to recall his struggles as well as his kids’ to show his players that they can overcome anything. Provenzano's complex past might help him, but it also still haunts him.

He worries that what he started at Barry Goldwater will be taken away. He doesn't go to bed without accomplishing something. 

It all stems from losing his mom.

“I miss her,” said Provenzano during an interview at Barry Goldwater. “If she was still alive, I could have been able to help her.”

After the interview he got in his truck and drove toward his players on the football field.

Just like the water was for his mom, a football field is where Provenzano is at peace.

Doug Provenzano and his mom, Peggy Margaret Ann Derfler. Photo courtesy of Provenzano.