Padecky: John Goelz’s career at Sonoma State worth a thousand victories

ROHNERT PARK - What is it that we all have in common, black or white, poor or rich, educated or not, country boy or city slicker, in a fine bed or sleeping under a bridge? We all want the same thing. We want to matter. We want people to remember that we were here, that we left a footprint, however slight. That we just didn’t take up space until we, anonymously, vacated it. A ghost in life. A ghost in death. No, not that.

Alex Crosby, a third baseman for Sonoma State, became aware of that one fine summer day last year. He was at a baseball field in Vacaville, working out with friends. He was wearing his SSU baseball cap. A stranger approached.

“You play for Sonoma State?”

“Yes,” Crosby said somewhat haltingly, scanning the immediate area for interlopers.

“Tell Goelzie I said hi,” the man said.

Crosby had to feel he was pranked.

That stranger was a former player of SSU coach John Goelz, and there’s more than 100 of them right now coaching baseball either in high school or college in California and elsewhere. That stranger could have been a parent of one of the 93 players Goelz has sent into professional baseball. That stranger could have been one of those people who send him 2,500 emails a week. Yes, 2,500 emails in a week, not every week, but there’s enough of them that Goelz asks his assistant coaches to take care of it. This is Sonoma State, for criminey sake. Goelz’s executive secretaries are his coaches.

Stay in one spot for 30 years, you gather a crowd. Stay in one spot and win your 1,000th game as Goelz did a week ago Saturday, you’ll need sunglasses to see him through the spotlight. He didn’t win just baseball games. Goelz won a political office.

“The attention is almost embarrassing,” Goelz said, “like sitting down to talk to you.”

Funny, and this is odd to say, you almost want to embarrass Goelz; I know I do. The people who know him consider this to be almost a cottage industry. On April 25, as the victory against San Francisco State was almost complete, the chant from the stands began: “Goelzie! Goelzie! Goelzie!” Goelz clutched up over that but he was more emotional when he first arrived at the field before the game.

The night before, the Seawolves returned from playing at SF State. The next day would be a doubleheader between the same two teams. There was a good chance Goelz would get No. 1,000. But the rain was coming down in sheets. Crosby, a senior and defacto team captain, knew the doubleheader would be rained out. Something had to be done.

“I called about 10 guys,” Crosby said. At 11 p.m. Friday, six players in six vehicles surrounded SSU’s baseball field. They turned on their headlights, switched to high beams and then went to the field and covered it with the tarp. In the rain.

Goelz arrived early Saturday morning and stood slack-jawed. He was expecting to call off the doubleheader due to the swamp that had to be the infield and outfield.

“It was the most awesome thing that’s happened to me in my 30 years here,” said Goelz, whose eyes became red in the retelling. Think about that last sentence. SSU has been to the NCAA tournament 11 of the past 17 years. His teams have won 10 conference titles. He’s had 50 players drafted by Major League Baseball. And he’s won those thousand games.

Yet, he put the players of a .500 team covering the field with a tarp at the top of his memory list.

“That they did it without the coaches prodding them, that. …” his voice trailed off.

This is the John Goelz people will remember. This is the John Goelz that Mookie Wang flew all the way here from Taiwan to be around when Goelz won No. 1,000. Wang didn’t even play for him. He was an SSU administrator at one time. Wang just wanted to be here for his friend.

This would make Margaret proud, to know her son was watching her, learning from her, paying it forward. Goelz grew up in the East Bay town of San Lorenzo. There were 24 houses on his block. The Goelz house was right in the middle of the block.

“If you were hungry,” Goelz said, “you came to our house. My mom would feed you. No questions asked. Didn’t matter who you were, what your background. Kids came all over from the neighborhood.”

Goelz saw the smiles on the kids, the unconditional love on his mother’s face. Kindness was there. It was helping him get through the torment of the day.

Goelz was dyslexic as a kid. Even today he finds himself on occasion writing numbers backward, which is a challenge considering how baseball lives off statistics. Back then it was more than a challenge for Goelz.

“I was called stupid, a dumbass,” Goelz said. “No, I would say. I’m not stupid. ”

As opposed to today, dyslexia 50-60 years ago was in a comparative stage of recognition and treatment. Not afforded the counseling and support prevalent today, Goelz relied on determination and intellect to overcome. He got his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in physical education from San Francisco State.

Goelz never became bitter; Margaret’s message of kindness was implanted permanently. But he was also competitive. He’d be damned to give up.

While an assistant coach at SF State, Goelz was asked by one of his players if he had any goals in life.

“I want to be the head baseball coach at a college,” he told Casey Gilroy. “I want to win more games at that school than anyone ever has.”

How’s that for willpower? This was 1979. Goelz was 24, a mere pup.

How’s this for killing them with kindness, as opposed to bitterness - Gilroy is now one of Goelz’s executive secretaries. Oops. Sorry. One of his assistant coaches. Gilroy is in his fifth year with Goelz. The average term for a current Goelz assistant is nine years.

How’s this for success - Orrin Freeman, a close friend and now special assistant to the general manager of the Miami Marlins, once said this to Goelz after the coach won his 500th game: “Sure, you won 500 games. But you won them at Sonoma State!”

Meaning, SSU too often is underfunded compared with the conference teams it faces. Chico State’s baseball team, for example, receives $150,000 from the school. SSU gets $20,000.

“And if I can get a little egotistical here,” Goelz said, “I’m proud to have a winning record against Division I colleges (55-53), Division II colleges (843-548-5), Division III schools (33-9) and NAIA schools (70-37).”

The little bit of ego popped up there like a sunspot, suddenly to flare and just as suddenly to subside. If he has a choice, Goelz would rather champion self-deprecation, such as when he was asked if he has healed completely from the concussion he sustained in a 2012 traffic accident.

“Well, I’m fatter now,” he said. “Yep, I’m just fat and slow.”

Amazing, John, how fat and slow can draw a crowd. Even when you are standing by yourself, no one within 100 miles of you, you are never alone. That, I would think, would be the best compliment anyone could ever give you.

To contact Bob Padecky, email him at bobpadecky@gmail.com.