More Than a Gym, It Was a Home

For 36 years The Big C Athletic Club in Concord was far more than just a gym. My friend Lars called it a “poor man’s country club.” In 70,000 square feet we had a community. Six years ago, when a friend was nearing the end of a cancer journey more than 100 friends turned out to say goodbye to him. In typical Big C fashion we decided to hold the wake and funeral while Rey was still with us, so that we could tell him how much we loved him one more time. We also affectionately rose to roast him about his famous travelling violations, his passion for playing in both the Senior and Open leagues, his many going away and retirement parties that never happened and just his general spirit which he gifted to us all. Many places feel the loss of a friend like Rey and never recover from the body blow. For us at the Big C it just became one more deeper groove in the character of the building. My dear friend Chris Bramer, who became the first winner of the Rey Viado Most Inspirational Award (later to be unofficially re-consecrated as The Rey Viado Bud Light Award), had built a ball rack dedicated to absent friends.

It was a subtle place. It got in your bones, the floor had dead spots, we only recently replaced the rims after one of them was broken (Tyler got the blame on that although it also coulda just been a stiff breeze). Championships and seasons ticked by with a frightening regularity. Guys would move away and come back and in our own special time warp it was like they never left. The same people would stack the teams on Friday (guilty as charged) and Wednesday (my own 3rd round draft position became a distinct advantage that I would defend shamelessly). I’ll miss the Tuesday, Thursday run with the senior circuit, my old friends Paul Webber, Eddie “I’m to old for this shit” Butler, Flowers, Phil, Art, Bick, all of them. 

We lost other friends. JR, a young man I wish I had known better but knew well enough by character to feel his loss acutely, suffered a brain aneurism on the court one Friday. I watched our community spring together to try to save him; I saw Rich Thomas give him CPR with every ounce of his training to try to save him for his family. 

For every loss we faced we were given more gifts. Watching Zach Conoliglio grow from an awkward ungainly teenager into a wonderful young man the size of a barn was one of my first real experiences in life’s circular nature. I remember watching boys I knew get married, have kids, grow into men and fathers. We saw each other through our bad times and our good times. We yelled and fought with each other. We also laughed and laughed and laughed. The Rodriguez brothers showed class and grit leading their teams and their friends through example. We saw old guys hang on too long and young guys test themselves against vets too early. But all of that paled, it paled to the warmth of walking back in there and seeing each other.

My biggest personal regret in the gym closing was how proud I was to get to be an older guy to a whole new generation of young men just getting started on their adult lives. Watching Nate Shipley lean into being a father and a captain being more than a great player but being a better man. Watching Zach Coniglio just keep finding his way into being his own unique person. Anthony Cool Water Conlon just being that good guy and a constant leader. Tyler being the cool guy with a Captain Morgan beard, big Brian making me feel old, being quicker and smarter than me. It was all so much fun. It was a place where I watched the generations nurture each other. Where winning and losing were fun and a point of pride but really they were just the backdrop.

I’m sure that those of us that want to will keep playing, we’ll find other runs and gyms and leagues. We’ll coach our kids or grandkids. But I’ll miss my friends, I’ll miss those little pin down screens with Ferrera on a Friday, the ones that DRod sees coming and we get every time. 

I’ll regret not seeing that next generation of young guys turn into mentors not just in basketball but in life. I’ll miss the cheering for Ricky Hoop when he would make a bucket in a big game, not because it was some sort of “oh good for him” but because we could root for each other. Because when Rey Viado was out there playing with a colostomy bag and going through chemo he still made the winning free throws and the whole world made sense. 

I’ll miss getting to see all my contemporaries kids grow up, from Danny’s little girls, Del Moral’s pack of kids and on and on. I’ll miss the little ones that aren’t here yet. 

I’ll miss Jimmy and Jaimie reffing a big game with a little something extra. I’ll miss the magic Big C comebacks (Runkle beating me in a playoff game with a Six point play was pretty amazing) where the beer drinking spectators would turn on the team with the lead and the calls would get tight. 

I’ll miss the ever evolving unofficial senior counsel to be consulted on rulings for trades and shenanigans (of which I pulled more than my fair share). I’ll miss little give and goes with Zack Anderson. I’ll miss the perfect season that turned on our 7th guy hitting three huge threes in the championship. 

All things change, and all things fade. But what we all got to share there was something a little extra. We got to share a little bit of each other’s lives. Our world is split away from things like community, so much of it has become faceless and soulless and this was one thing that wasn’t. It was ours, I’ll cherish that night we got to say goodbye to Rey. I’ll cherish it not for how it stood out, not for how it was this one moment to say goodbye to a university liked and loved friend but for how routine it was for us. Of course we would all get together for that. Of course we would do it while we could still say it to him in person. Our lives our short, they change, they get complicated, they are full of joy and sadness and death is an inescapable destination we all share. For 36 years our little community got to share this time together. I’m grateful and I’ll miss seeing you all around the club. Have a Bud Light or a water or whatever you want and please join me in a toast to our friendship.