Three Jocks Past Prime Time

Written on March 15, 2006

Following is a fictitious recording on March 15, 2006 of three old-time Lewis basketball players reflecting on their time with the greatest coach of all-time, Gordie Gillespie. They are Bob Thayer, John Valaitis, and Tom Kennedy.

“Three boys of Spring and Summer,
Sat on a park bench on an early, sunny October day,
Reflecting on their youth and their athletic feats.
In days when the world was baseball and basketball,
When coaches and officials and rulebooks set standards;
When results were obvious and irreversible;
When effort and skill and teamwork meant everything,
When memories of losses faded quickly,
Only now to be replaced by loss of memories.”.

TRK

BOB: “Did you hear that Gord is almost 80?  Seems like he was 80 when we played for him.  And that was 45 years ago.”

TOM: “You know, he told me I could do things that were really impossible.  But I believed him, and I did them…because he said I could. Wish I could do them again.”

JOHN: “Me, I learned that you don’t have to go first class to be first class.  Be professional, show no emotion.  Treat your opponents with respect.”

BOB: “Leave the locker room cleaner than when we came.  Don’t bounce pass on the fast break.  Don’t let them beat you baseline.”

TOM: “You guys ever stop to thinks how many people Gord has deeply influenced over the years?  In 55 years, probably 60 players per year. That’s 3,300 in all…so far.”

JOHN:  “But 1,000 of those players became coaches, and they influenced at least 100 more each.  That’s another 100,000 lives influenced by Gord…so far.”

TOM: “Like the mighty oak tree branching out, reaching for the stars, Bob, producing thousands of leaves…”

BOB:  “…and more than a few nuts…like the three of us.”

The autumn sight and smells and sounds get lost in talks like these, until a reflective solitude – a solitude of wonderment and re-awakened respect – descended on the three old friends.

The brightly colored leaves glistened and glowed in the afternoon’s soft sunlight.  These vestiges of a glorious summer, in their uniforms of maroon, and brown, and gold – until now silent spectators – were suddenly inspired by a Gordian gust of wind, and began to whisper, then to chatter, as if in agreement.

A few leaves had already been released from their branches, and now rested silently and in peace with their departed teammates on the ground, waiting to welcome and soften the fall of the others who clung stubbornly to the earthly limbs.

TOM: “You know guys, I’d still like to dunk a ball with two hands from a standstill.  But at my age, I just can’t.”

BOB: “Or lead a fast break at sprint speed, stop on a dime at the free throw line, and pop a jumper. But I can’t do that now.”

JOHN: “No, fellas, the only reason you can’t, is because Gord isn’t there telling you that you can.”