THE 1976 EASTWOOD TROOPERS
THE ARCHITECT OF EASTWOOD BASKETBALL
Bobby Lesley is one of El Paso’s most influential basketball coaches. During 27 years at Eastwood High School, he built a program defined by discipline, defense, and accountability, drawing on the principles he learned under Don Haskins at Texas Western.
His greatest achievement came in 1976, when he led the Troopers to the UIL State Championship—the last boys’ basketball state title won by an El Paso school.
His teams were known for toughness, preparation, and flawless execution.
Beyond championships, Lesley shaped generations of students, teaching character, leadership, and perseverance.
Today, the Bobby Lesley Gym stands as a lasting tribute to the culture he built and the legacy that continues to define Eastwood basketball.
MORE THAN AN HONOR
A Reflection on the 1976 Eastwood Troopers
By Jim Bowden
To all of my teammates:
When I think back to 1976, I realize just how fortunate I was to be part of something much bigger than basketball.
We were young—just high school kids who loved to play the game. We practiced, competed, argued, laughed, pushed one another, and sometimes probably drove our coaches crazy.
But somewhere along the way, something special happened.
We became a team.
And not merely a team that played basketball together.
We became a team that believed in one another.
We all remember the practices.
The conditioning.
The long bus rides.
The pressure of the big games.
The excitement of walking onto the court knowing that everything we had worked for was on the line.
Then came the state tournament.
When the final buzzer sounded and we realized we were Texas state champions, we had accomplished something nobody could ever take away from us.
We had done it.
Together.
I was fortunate during that championship run to receive All-Tournament honors and, later, All-State honors. At 18 years old, those recognitions meant a tremendous amount to me. I was proud and grateful. They told me that all the hours of work, sacrifice, and commitment had been noticed.
But 50 years later, I see those honors differently.
They were my awards.
The state championship was ours.
And with complete sincerity, the state championship means more to me today than those individual honors ever could.
I did not win that championship by myself.
None of us did.
Every one of you had a part in it. Every practice, every pass, every rebound, every defensive stop, every sacrifice, and every word of encouragement—it all mattered.
There were probably moments when one of us was not playing his best. Moments when somebody was hurting. Moments when we were frustrated, tired, or doubting ourselves.
But somebody else was always there.
A teammate.
Someone who believed.
Someone who said, in one way or another, “Come on. We’ve got this.”
That is what made us champions.
Now, five decades later, something has become even clearer to me.
The trophy has faded—and been dented.
The newspaper articles have faded. The individual awards went into boxes and onto shelves.
But the memory of what we accomplished together never went away, and it never will.
Neither will the bond that came from being part of that team.
When I look back at the young man I was in 1976, I sometimes wish I could go back and tell him something.
I would tell him to slow down.
To appreciate those moments a little more.
To look around the locker room and really take in the faces of the guys sitting beside him—the teammates who were working and sacrificing just as much as he was.
Because he did not know then what I know now.
Those were some of the most important days of his life.
We did not know that someday we would be sitting here with gray hair, grandchildren, families, careers, and a lifetime of experiences behind us.
We did not know how quickly 50 years could pass.
And we certainly did not know how rare it is to be part of something at that age that brings people together for the rest of their lives.
That is why, when I think about 1976, I do not think first about my points, my awards, or my individual accomplishments.
I think about you guys.
I think about the friendships.
I think about the laughter.
I think about the sweat and the sacrifice.
I think about the feeling of standing together after that final game and realizing that we had reached the top.
We had accomplished what everyone thought was impossible—even as we “dribbled our tumbleweeds into Austin.”
And I think about how incredibly fortunate I was to be there with you.
We were champions then, and we always will be.
In fact, we remain El Paso’s only boys’ basketball state champions.
But looking back all these years later, I realize that the greatest prize was not the championship trophy.
It was being part of something we would carry with us for the rest of our lives.
So today, I want to say something to each and every one of you that perhaps I did not know how to say when I was 18:
Thank you.
Thank you for pushing me.
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for allowing me to be part of something so special.
And thank you for giving me memories that, 50 years later, still bring a smile to my face and pride to my heart.
I am proud of the All-State honor.
I am proud of the All-Tournament honor.
But most of all, I am proud to say:
I was one of you.
I still am.
I am an Eastwood Trooper, and I always will be.
In 1976, we became Texas state champions—and we will be champions for life.
That is something time can never take away from us.
We were young once.
We believed we could accomplish something extraordinary.
And together, we did.
