Bill and Ben Alli don't simply coach wrestling at Centralia High School—they extend a family line of grit, humility, and community loyalty that reaches back decades. What makes their pairing compelling isn't just that they're father and son, but that each discovered, in his own way, just how much a young person's life can change when an adult shows up with steady expectations and an open heart.

Ben is in his second year as a Centralia High School wrestling coach, though the place has been part of his story far longer. He graduated in 2017 after wrestling 220 his first two years—"that weight class doesn't exist anymore," he notes—before shifting to heavyweight for his junior and senior seasons. He returned to coach the program that shaped him, now working with wrestlers as both a coach and as a teacher of civics, geography, criminal justice, police operations, and courtroom evidence. The dual-credit classes he teaches for juniors and seniors add another point of connection; the broader his reach, the deeper his impact.

Bill's path took more turns. He graduated from Centralia High School in 1989, wrestled heavyweight, and once held the school shot-put record. After working construction and later for an environmental company removing underground tanks, he found himself suddenly unemployed when state funds dried up and the company collapsed. A cousin recruited him to help coach girls' shot put at Salem, and that's where he ran into longtime Centralia coach Matt Orgen, who encouraged him to apply for a security job at the Annex. Bill spent years assisting Orgen and eventually took over the wrestling program when Orgen stepped back to watch his sons' basketball careers. Bill coached for several more seasons, briefly stepped away during COVID, worked a year as a custodian at Odin, and then realized where he belonged. "This is my hometown," he says. "Once an Orphan, always an Orphan."

Both father and son speak with reverence about wrestling—not as a sport, but as an education. Wrestling, Bill says, teaches discipline in a way nothing else does. "They learned that they're not as tough as they usually think," he explains. "A lot of times, you get humbled. It teaches you how to, you know, if you lose, how to deal with it. Kind of humbles you a little bit and realizes that, hey, maybe I need to work harder." The stamina required is unlike anything else: early mornings, long days in overheated gyms, and six brutal minutes on the mat. "You don't realize how bad a shape you're in until you wrestle,” he laughs.

Safety has improved dramatically since his high school days—no more rubber suits, no more drastic weight cuts. State rules now dictate allowable weight drops based on body fat. "It's policed a lot better than it used to be," Bill says.

The program is growing. This year, 31 students came out—mostly boys, but also a girl who has wrestled for three seasons. And competition in the region is fierce: Salem is rising, Vandalia is strong, Marion is loaded with talent, and all of it pushes Centralia to climb.

Ben has discovered that coaching reaches parts of a young person's life that classroom teaching can't touch. "I get to know who they are more than just coming into my civics class for 45 minutes in the day. I get to see their problems. I get to see them grow," he says. His wrestlers feel like siblings—"They're more like little brothers to me," he says—and that bond deepens when students confide struggles, breakups, family stresses, or frustrations they hide from others.

Bill speaks with the emotion of someone who has seen kids overcome hard lives. He's watched students from broken homes or difficult circumstances find pride in themselves. And often, years later, they spot him in public to give him a hug. "Hey, coach. How are you doing, man? It's good to see you," they say. "That's the paycheck right there," Bill says simply.

He tells his wrestlers on the first day of practice: "I'm not gonna treat you any different than my own child. I care about each and every one of you. I want to see you guys succeed. If I get on to you a little bit, that means I care."

Ben found teaching almost by accident. After earning a criminal justice and Homeland Security degree from MacMurray College—transferring to Illinois College when MacMurray closed during COVID—he took a casino security job. When an opportunity opened at the Annex, he came home. First as an aide and tutor, then as a security guard, he discovered how much he loved helping students in what they called the Level One room, where the school's most challenged kids worked. "I felt like I was doing good. That's what made me choose teaching."

Their family story includes four competitive brothers, all athletes, all shaping each other on the football field, the shot-put ring, and the wrestling room. Their last name has long hung on the walls of Centralia High School, and now their wrestlers are adding their own chapters.  Bill’s wrestling record in high school was 36-2 his senior year.  Bill’s shot put record stood for 34 years until it was broken by Jeh’Chys Brown in 2023.

Whether they're coaching a future state placer or helping a student survive a tough week, Bill and Ben show young people what strength looks like when it's steady, humble, and rooted in love for a hometown that has given them so much.   Bill says his greatest joy is to be able to coach alongside his son and see him pass along everything he has been taught over the years to a new generation of wrestlers.