I never really thought much about the poignancy of the title The Fourth Quarter when I embarked on this journey other than the fact that I am clearly in it as my life plays out. Then it happened and it hit me like a thunderbolt. I was preparing to watch the Superbowl with Diane and for no apparent reason, it seemed appropriate for us to check in with a dear friend who A-as a youth and for as long as I knew him, was one of the finest athletes a person could know and compete against and B-had of late, had some tough sledding healthwise.
Diane, the techie of the two of us, sent the lighthearted text across the many miles to Pebble Beach, California, where we knew, just knew Marty would be watching golf and preparing to watch the Chiefs/49ers game. The response was immediate and it came from our good friend’s daughter—please call this number ASAP. A large cantaloupe-size lump lodged in my throat. It was like that phone call you get in the middle of the night on your “land line”—this would not be good news. I dialed the number and a voice answered, “Dan Ruberry here and I was about to call you Gordy.” Guess our phone has caller ID I thought to myself as I had never met a Dan Ruberry. “Afraid I’ve got some bad news. I’m Marty’s brother and we just put him in hospice and he might not make it through the night.”
No, it can’t be and that proverbial fist crashed into the side of my face. No, not Marty Ruberry, the invincible Marty Ruberry, the most competitive athlete I had ever seen. It just couldn’t be but brother Dan assured me it was. A mere month earlier we had talked to Marty and he assured us he was improving and not to worry, he was fighting the good battle. And then as he always did, it was, “How are you guys, the kids, and bring me up to date on Western.” It was never about him but always the others fortunate to be in his universe. By morning he was gone–February 2, 2020 at 72 years.
How could this be? Marty Ruberry was a “man’s man.” He loved sports, enjoyed a glass of wine or two, loved his wife Mary and daughter Lauren, could tell a story like no one else, and oh, such a network of friends. Anyone who ever met Marty would forever remember him. He had a broad smile, a large personality, an infectious laugh, and a positive outlook on life. Every day was a good one for him. He played hard but he also worked hard. He never had a bad round of golf and played every chance he got. Even if his score was not where he wanted it, he still enjoyed the competition and the camaraderie that transpired on the course.
He was a people person whose house was yours if you happened to venture into his part of the world. I met Marty in college at Western and he was a fraternity guy (Phi Sigma Epsilon) and Gordy a residence hall guy. Back then, we only knew each other through intramurals on the football field, the ball diamond, or the hardcourt, and we beat the hell out of each other on a regular basis with him usually on the winning side.
When I got the alumni job, Mary and he were always there helping to organize our Northern California events and ensuring that those in attendance had a good time. He had a generous streak but never made a big deal of it. Our sons, Gordon III and Ryan, were huge Boston Celtic/Larry Bird fans. I mentioned this to Marty and four tickets to a Bulls/Celtics game at the Chicago Stadium miraculously arrived in our mailbox. My boys sat in the dugout at a White Sox/Oakland game compliments of Marty. He loved doing stuff like this. On an alumni visit to San Francisco, Larry and Sandy Mortier and Diane and Gordy Taylor found themselves in a limosine being squired around the entire Bay area. That was Marty.
So, this old guy sits in front of his computer thinking about that old guy gone from this world but forever in the hearts of many. At times like this I get misty eyed and mellow and make no apologies. Through the magic of technology and Alexa, Aaron Copland is conducting in the background and I am typing, crying a bit, and looking out the window at the palm leaves swaying in the wind. When we leave this earth, do we leave a legacy behind? I think so and I hope so. One can’t help but ponder what comes next and what we leave behind.
Diane and I toasted Marty Ruberry the other night and relived some of our most memorable stories with this remarkable man. If it matters that you loved and lost and won and smiled, that you competed, that you sang and laughed and danced, that you reached out to others when they could not pay you pack, and that the world is a better place because you walked among us, then, Marty Ruberry yours was a full and well-lived life. Your legacy is secure my friend.. Thanks for including Diane and me in your extraordinary journey across the miles.
Gordy and the Fourth Quarter 