Spend Some Time With a Friend

I met Rich “Da Coach” Gilgallon about 15-years-ago when our mutual friend, Cal Ahlers, invited me to round out a foursome on a Saturday morning.  Cal told me that Rich had been a “big time, east coast, sports-talk guy” who was now living in the desert and working at one of my former radio stations.

My golf bag was loaded onto the same cart as his and we spent the next four hours enjoying the Southern California sun, Schwacking (his term for it!) the ball around the course and engaging in small talk.  Only with Rich the small talk was never that small.  From that first golf game I felt that Rich was a man with nothing to hide.  He spoke directly, openly and honestly about everything.  While I always used humor to keep people—at least initially—at a distance, Rich had no reservations about responding to even a small joke with a comment on how the subject had impacted or in some other way applied to his personal life and philosophy.

He wasn’t and isn’t preachy in any way.  I saw him as thoughtful and reflective.  And this was in the days long before his heart attacks which more often than not elicit reflections on the meaning(s) of our lives.

His nickname is Da Coach but, though I tried, I never seemed to be able to address him as such.  Nicknames are meant to be endearing and I made several efforts to call him Coach, but in the next instance I was back to calling him Rich.  I think it’s because, to me, he is always a true human being.  When I spent time with Rich, I was spending time with a man and not some radio personality.

I have always admired Rich and held him in high esteem.  He’s an incredibly talented broadcaster and I naturally respect him for that.  But my admiration and feelings of friendship don’t stem from that.  They are born in my witness to the way he lives and gives to others.

Always ready to help out

For example, on one occasion I was producing TV programs for one of my non-profit clients and they were preparing for their annual golf tournament.  I was cruising along in my car, listening to Rich on the radio, and he said he was broadcasting from a local casino that very afternoon.  It was about two miles away and I decided, on the spur of the moment, to drive over.

Broadcasting from another event.

I walked across the crowded room and, amidst all the commotion, he reached across his table and shook my hand.  “Billy, what’s up?” came his distinctive voice.

“I’ve got the annual Cerebral Palsy golf tournament in two weeks.”

Without hesitation he pulled out the chair next to him and said, “Come around and have a seat.”  When his commercial break ended he immediately gave me a long and undeserved introduction and began asking about the charity, their tournament and how people could participate.

Rich gives his time and energies to charities as easily as he drinks a glass of water.

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Another time I had just finished production on my Simple Cooking for Guys DVD and Rich invited me to his studio and spent about 15 minutes talking with me about my project; how I got my idea, what was contained on the DVDs and how his listeners could get one.  What did he ask in return?  Not a thing.  And it wasn’t the only time he invited me on the air to talk about some project with which I was involved.

My friendship with Rich could be considered by some to be even more astonishing because my T-shirts are emblazoned with Yankees logos and his are proudly adorned with those of the RedSox.  One clear memory I have is of conducting pre-tournament interviews for a charity golf tournament.  My cameraman and I had set up by the driving range so we could catch the celebrities and key foundation people as they came to warm up.  This was early in 2005 and I hadn’t seen Rich since his RedSox had won their first World Series since 1918.  I was in the middle of an interview when I felt someone standing immediately behind me.  Then, whispered into my left ear—to the tune of the Hallelujah Chorus—I heard Rich’s unique voice singing, “Carl Yastrzemski! Carl Yastrzemski!”

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Once I completed the interview I turned to see him still standing there, greeting me with his infectious ear-to-ear grin.  I made a few perfunctory statements about him and his team which cannot be reprinted here and then accepted his outstretched hand and gave him a hug, offering my congratulations on his team’s championship.  Within two seconds, Rich was standing in front of my camera, telling all of his listeners about the need to support the cause for which we were attempting to raise funds that day.

With some interviews, you have to work to get something editable for air.  With Rich, he knew the specifics of the tournament, he knew the challenges with the disease and he made his plea for help a personal one, extolling how the disease had touched members of his own family.

A Lopsided Score

Rich Da Coach Gilgallon

As I write this, I realize how odd life can be.  I consider him a friend yet I now wonder if I saw him more than 20 times in the 15-plus years he was in the desert.  It is a testament to his humanity that, with so few one-on-one meetings (and golf games!), he made such an impression on me.

He was always willing to help me with a project or one of my charity clients, but I can’t recall even one instance when he asked a favor of me or when I was able to return the courtesy.

Favors for Bill – 100’s    Favors for Rich – 0

This past July, Rich announced that he’d made the decision to return home to Boston.  He wanted, he said, to return to his roots and to spend more time with family.  His father was “getting up there,” he said and, without knowing where he’d work, he’d felt it was time to go back home.

I cannot imagine anything more tragic than hearing, just six hours before your flight home, that your father had passed away.  That is exactly what my friend had to experience.  When he announced he was moving, I felt sadness that I hadn’t spent more time with him.  When I heard this heartbreaking news I wished I could have traveled with him as he journeyed home to immediately organize and attend his father’s funeral.

Another Missed Opportunity

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My regret is that I didn’t spend more time with Rich when he lived but a few miles away.  It brings to my consciousness the countless opportunities to visit with a friend or family member that, across the decades, I have squandered.  Rich is clear across the country; now back home to his beloved Boston, enveloped in the bosom of his family.  Thanks to the World Wide Web, I can still stay in touch with my friend, but I feel a tremendous sadness that I couldn’t be there for him during his grieving.  And I feel my own sense of loss at letting him get away without a hug and a bidding for his good fortune.

Photo: Larry Bohannan/Desert Sun

Perhaps someday he and I will get to meet over a cup of coffee and I will again enjoy a few moments with my friend.  I like to suggest to you that you call a friend today and offer to grab a cup of coffee or lunch.  Maybe you can drop someone a note to let them know how much they’ve meant to you.  Hopefully you can avoid missing an opportunity, as have I so many times, to tell a friend you love them.

Best of luck, always, Rich.