Inside the Mind of Kelly Church

By Andrew M. Pitzer

Columnist/Broadcaster/Analyst

HomeTeamSports TV

Hedgesville, WV

It’s a crisp November afternoon in Hedgesville, West Virginia. The sun is just starting to dip below the hills, casting long shadows over the quiet town, but inside the gym at Hedgesville High School, things are far from calm. The sound of sneakers screeching across hardwood, the rhythmic bounce of basketballs, and the unmistakable bark of Coach Kelly Church echo through the rafters. It’s a “flex” practice—a strategic, more fluid session before the start of the 2024–2025 basketball season. But if you walked in blind, you’d think it was game day.

At the center of it all is Church. Eyes locked in, arms crossed, pacing like a general prepping his unit for battle. There’s no off switch. There never has been.

This isn’t just practice—it’s a statement. It’s November, but the postseason is already on his mind. For Kelly Church, every rep matters. Every drill is a lesson. And basketball? It’s never just about the game.

A Legacy Built Brick by Brick

Kelly Church’s name in West Virginia high school basketball circles elicits strong reactions. To some, he’s a throwback—demanding, intense, unwilling to compromise. To others, he’s one of the most misunderstood figures in the game. But to anyone who’s followed the sport in the Mountain State, one thing is certain: the man can coach.

Since taking over the Hedgesville Eagles, Church has amassed a staggering win-loss record. As of the end of the 2023–2024 season, Church boasts a career win total of over 450, including a Class AAA State Championship in 2012. That team—led by future Division I talents—remains a defining moment in both the school’s and Church’s legacy.

“That group was special,” Church recalls, looking up at the championship banner hanging in the gym. “But it wasn’t about the trophy. It was the bond. The hours. The grind. That group knew how to work.”

Coaching Blood Ties: Alex, Adam, and Noah

Few coaches ever get the chance to coach their own children. Church has done it three times.

His twin sons, Alex and Adam Church, graduated in 2014. I remember the battles well—those late-season dogfights where we’d go head-to-head. As much as we competed on the floor, there was always a layer of respect when it came to playing against the Church boys. They were extensions of their father—gritty, vocal, disciplined.

“You learn a lot coaching your own sons,” Kelly says. “With Alex and Adam, I had to find the balance between being Dad and being Coach. And sometimes I failed at it. But they knew I loved them, and I hope they understood the bigger picture.”

Fast forward to 2025, and Church just coached his stepson, Noah Brown, through his senior year. Noah wasn’t just another player—he was a glue guy, a leader who embodied the spirit of the Eagles. While Noah’s game might not have garnered the headlines like QJ Peterson or CJ Burks, his intangibles were irreplaceable.

“Noah had heart, man,” Church says with a rare smile. “Every team needs a guy like him. You only win with players who care more about the name on the front than the one on the back.”

The Brothers in Battle: Former Players Who Still Call Him “Coach”

Kelly Church’s coaching tree runs deep. Ask any former Hedgesville standout what they remember most, and they’ll likely say the same thing: accountability.

QJ Peterson, who went on to star at VMI and play professionally overseas, still credits Church for instilling the discipline that helped him transition to the next level. “Coach Church never let me cut corners,” Peterson once said. “He expected more from me than I expected from myself.”

CJ Burks, who lit up Conference USA for Marshall, remembers the intensity. “There were days I hated practice. But those are the days I grew the most.”

Chris Shields and Xavier Kirk, two more former standouts, each recall their battles with Church’s demanding style—but also the gratitude they developed over time.

“I didn’t understand it back then,” Xavier said in a 2023 interview. “But he saw something in me I didn’t even know was there. That man made me believe I was more than just a role player.”

The relationships, Church says, are the reward. “Basketball is just an excuse for relationships,” he often tells his players. It’s not just a catchphrase—it’s a mission statement.

“You think I remember every score? Every stat? Nah,” he says. “I remember the kid who told me he wanted to quit, and stayed. I remember the texts on Father’s Day. That’s the stuff that lasts.”

Fire and Flame: The Passion That Polarizes

Anyone who’s seen a Hedgesville game knows what comes with it: Church pacing, yelling, clapping, slamming his fist into his open palm. He’s been hit with technicals. He’s been ejected. He’s been criticized. But that fire is more than just theatrics—it’s survival.

“It’s who I am,” Church admits. “I’m not wired like other people. Some guys sip water and smile. I’m not that dude.”

He’s the guy who’ll go nose-to-nose with a ref if he thinks his kids are being disrespected. The guy who’s up at 2 a.m. rewatching film for a January game against Spring Mills. The guy who sees every possession as a life lesson.

It’s that same fire that’s made him a legend in the Eastern Panhandle—and a target.

“People see the passion and think it’s anger,” he explains. “But I’m fighting for my guys. Every time. I’ll never apologize for caring too much.”

The Fire Was Forged Early

To understand Kelly Church’s edge, you have to go back—way back.

“I didn’t grow up in a house with encouragement,” he shares quietly. “There wasn’t a lot of support, and there sure wasn’t a blueprint for success.”

Church doesn’t dive deep into specifics, but those close to him know his early years were marked by instability, fractured family dynamics, and a constant struggle for structure. Basketball didn’t just save him—it gave him something to believe in.

“I had to become the role model I never had,” he says. “That’s where the intensity comes from. I can’t let these kids down. I won’t.”

What looks like rage to some is actually defense—a shield built over decades of battling for respect, purpose, and connection.

“I had to fight for everything,” Church says. “So yeah, I coach with emotion. I don’t know any other way.”

The Man Behind the Whistle

It’s easy to label Kelly Church as “that loud coach at Hedgesville.” It’s harder to sit with him, to ask about his players, his sons, his regrets, and his wins that didn’t make the stat sheet.

“A lot of people just see the sideline version of me,” he says. “But ask the kids who still come back, who still call, who still sit in my office and talk about life. That’s who I am.”

He points to a framed photo of the 2012 championship team. In it, you see the purest version of joy—sweaty faces, unfiltered grins, arms around each other.

“That’s it right there,” he says. “That’s why we do this. Not for trophies. Not for applause. For those relationships. For that moment.”

As practice winds down, Church calls the team together at midcourt. His voice drops a notch—still stern, still commanding, but now with a layer of warmth.

“You have no idea how fast this goes,” he tells them. “One day, you’ll wish you had one more practice, one more chance. So don’t waste it.”

The kids nod, drink it in. They know he’s not bluffing. There’s wisdom behind the bark.

The Final Quarter

There is a sense that we’re seeing the last chapters of Kelly Church’s career start to unfold. He hasn’t announced anything officially. But there’s a knowing look in his eye, a hint of reflection that didn’t used to be there, although Coach Church doesn’t seem to agree with that assessment.

“ I have no current plans to stop coaching at Hedgesville unless I left to go coach with friends in college….. and again, that isn’t my current plan.”

“When the time’s right, I’ll know,” he says. “But until then, I’m gonna keep pouring into these kids. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

For now, though, he’s still the same guy. Still dissecting defensive rotations, still yelling “talk on D!”, still clamoring for calls he thinks his guys should receive.

Because for Kelly Church, basketball isn’t a job. It’s a calling. His most famous quote is “Basketball is just an excuse for relationships.” And every kid who steps on that court becomes part of something bigger.

Not everyone will understand him. Some will only ever see the fire, the arguments, the headlines. But those who played for him, those who know the man behind the intensity—they’ll tell you what really matters.

He showed up. Every day. Every game. Every season. He showed up.

And in a world full of coaches chasing clout, Kelly Church has spent a career chasing connection.