Gordie Gillespie: Remembering One Who Influenced Many

By Ryan Quigley
Illinois Scouting Director

Illinois coaching legend Gordie Gillespie passed away Saturday night at the age of 88. Gillespie amassed 2,402 victories in four sports, and at the time of his retirement in 2011 he was College Baseball’s all-time winningest coach with 1,893 victories, since surpassed by Texas’ Augie Garrido.

You can google his name to read more about the accomplishments, the career, the state titles in high school football, and the four national championships in college baseball. The University of St. Francis also provided a great history on Coach Gillespie’s career on their website, which you can read about HERE.

Instead of providing another obituary, I’d like to give a short glimpse of my own personal experience with Coach Gillespie, and I urge others to do the same. Simply email Prep Baseball Report at [email protected] to share your “Letters for Gordie,” which we will run in a segment throughout the upcoming weeks. It could be a small story, a thank you note, a quote he used, or a larger personal experience you wish to share. Regardless of the length, we’d like to publish the stories of this coaching legend, so that they may live on, and that a younger generation may also share in his legacy.

I’ve known Coach Gillespie my entire life. He was the athletic director/head baseball coach at St. Francis throughout the time my parents were both playing basketball for the Saints from 1978-1983, and my father grew up playing grade school and high school basketball with his son, and my friend, Gordie Jr. (or “Goose” as he’s better known in Joliet).  As a youngster, from the very moment I remember picking up a baseball, I attended Coach’s summer baseball camps learning the fundamentals of the game I love. I remember him telling me I had an arm like Early “Gus” Wynn. I had no idea who that was, but Gordie said it, so I figured it must have been a good thing.

In retrospect, I look back at my athletic career and see the direct influence that Gordie had on every coach I played for. I owe everything to him and them. My grade school basketball coach at St. Patrick’s (Jimmy Sharp) played college football for Gordie; my high school football coach at Joliet Catholic (Dan Sharp) played for and coached with Gordie; my high school baseball coach (Jared Voss) played for Gordie at St. Francis; and my two college coaches at St. Xavier University (Mike Dooley and John Morrey) both played for Gordie at Lewis University. All these men are Hall of Fame coaches in their own right and they all have one thing in common: they consider Gordie Gillespie their mentor as a coach.

The six degrees of separation theory holds true for Gordie when it comes to college baseball circles and Illinois high school athletics. When it comes to Gordie, it usually doesn’t take more than two steps to find the connection. Successful area coaches like Joliet Catholic’s Sharp and Voss, Mount Carmel’s Brian Hurry, Andrew’s Dave DeHaan, Lincoln-Way East’s Paul Babcock, and Lockport’s Butch Markelz all played for the legend, and pass down the same lessons to their athletes.

At a Hot Stove coaches gathering this winter at the National College Coaches’ Convention in Orlando, I shared drinks and stories about Gordie with numerous college baseball coaches of all levels. He was that rare superstar-type personality in the coaching world, and counted other legendary coaches like Itchy Jones, Augie Garrido, Mike Martin, Ron Polk, and Ron Fraser as contemporaries and friends. When you said the name “Gordie” everyone instantly knew who you were talking about, and he headlined the national convention several times, receiving standing ovations after his speeches. He had a gift for public speaking, making grown men want to tear off that tweed sport coat one more time to run through a wall for Coach.

As a sophomore and junior backup quarterback at Joliet Catholic, I shadowed Gordie on the sideline throughout games (he would travel from Ripon, Wisconsin to be with us on Friday nights and consult throughout the week in quarterback meetings over the phone). It was my first experience with witnessing “Gordie Magic” as I like to call it. He’d read a defense, suggest a play to Head Coach Dan Sharp, and we’d inevitably score a touchdown on the subsequent play-action pass or counter. He never took a play off, and he had an innate ability to see what every single position on the field did on a particular play, whether that was in football or baseball. He could instantly make adjustments, putting his teams in the best possible position to have success, thus getting the most out of our talent.

I recall throwing an interception once, and throwing my helmet on the sideline in disgust. Gordie got in my face with a few choice words, not because I misread a defense, but because I was supposed to be a leader on the team, and if teammates witnessed me panicking it failed to set the example that a leader should. I thought about this every time I returned to the dugout after giving up a big inning, or a three-run homer throughout my baseball career and wanted to destroy a Gatorade cooler.

In college, I competed against him when he coached at St. Francis and I played at St. Xavier. It was strange in that I still considered him “my coach,” and wanted to perform well when we squared off, more so than against any other opponent. After games we were friendly as usual, but during those nine innings Gordie wanted to kick our butts, his competitiveness never wavered. I witnessed him take essentially the same players from a 2005 Fighting Saints team that went 25-35, and go 35-25 in 2006, another instance of “Gordie Magic.” I had friends on his team who joked they couldn’t believe how an elderly man could sit in a chair at an indoor practice for three hours, in the gym, in the middle of winter, and still get more out of a team without being able to physically demonstrate.

His mind was always sharp, and I’m convinced there will never be another coach, regardless of the sport, that has a better feel for in-game management, when to push the buttons to make a difference in critical moments. Perhaps it was because he had been there so many times, but I never saw Coach Gillespie change his demeanor in pressure situations. He stayed calm, making you calm, and always found the right thing to say to ease the tension during that 2-minute drill or that bases loaded, bottom of the ninth situation.

When my baseball career was floundering, due to injuries and lack of talent, Coach Gillespie was always there to pick me up, and encourage me to keep going. When I failed to be selected in the 2007 MLB Draft, he called encouraging me to sign an independent baseball contract. He even joked that he’d call as many professional scouts as he could for me, but that it might not do any good since most of his good friends in the professional scouting community had long since passed away.

When I finally got a chance in affiliated minor league baseball, signing a contract with the Arizona Diamondbacks (four years after 2007), Gordie was one of my first phone calls. I think he was happier than I was, and I doubt that I would have had persisted as long if not for his constant encouragement.

That fall/winter before leaving for Spring Training, I assisted my uncle Brian Michalak (who had taken over for Gordie at St. Francis) and had the chance to coach alongside Coach Gillespie. Despite being retired, he made nearly every fall practice, and still took up his usual spot behind the pitcher’s mound umpiring inter-squad games. I made it a point to sit next to him during every game to hear stories of Warren Spahn, Johnny Sain, and constantly talk situational baseball. He had forgotten more about baseball than I’ll ever know.

Make no mistake about it, Gordie won with talented players, but he attracted the type of talent and work ethic that made his teams great. He had an innate ability to see something in a player that others failed to notice, and he made you believe as an individual and as a team that you were capable of far more than you could imagine. He cultivated that talent both on and off the field, and those who played for him became better men because of his leadership. Those men are coaches, teachers, successful business men, public servants, and parents. They sent their former players and their own children (and sometimes grandchildren) to play for Coach. Success bred more success for those 59 seasons.

My last encounter with Coach was this fall at the Joliet Catholic Hall of Champions induction ceremony, which was his final public appearance. My sister Allie was in the inaugural class along with Coach Gillespie, and my younger sister Sam (who now heads the St. Francis women’s basketball program) accepted the award on Allie’s behalf as she was playing in the WNBA Playoffs. Joliet Catholic functions tend to be family affairs, directly because of that legacy and tradition Coach Gillespie created.

Coach was not his usual self; he was relegated to a wheel chair, and I highly doubted he would be able to accept his award on his own. It was tough to see. What happened next left not one dry eye in the entire building, and for a two minute period Coach Gillespie found the strength to summon up that “Gordie Magic” one more time. When I use that phrase, I mean the ability to make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world, the only one in the room…that he was directly talking to you and only you. 250 people in attendance that day felt it one more time, as the tens of thousands who played for him, coached with him, coached against him, and played against him also felt throughout his career.

He stood up from his chair, thankless as he always was, and thanked us for allowing him to be our coach. Another fellow honoree that night, former Chicago Bear and current Bear’s broadcaster Tom Thayer, stood up during his acceptance speech and said, “Gordie, we’re all here for you.”

 Coach, one last time, from the bottom of my heart, Thank You. We are all here because of you.

 

By Ryan Quigley
Illinois Scouting Director

Illinois coaching legend Gordie Gillespie passed away Saturday night at the age of 88. Gillespie amassed 2,402 victories in four sports, and at the time of his retirement in 2011 he was College Baseball’s all-time winningest coach with 1,893 victories, since surpassed by Texas’ Augie Garrido.

You can google his name to read more about the accomplishments, the career, the state titles in high school football, and the four national championships in college baseball. The University of St. Francis also provided a great history on Coach Gillespie’s career on their website, which you can read about HERE.

Instead of providing another obituary, I’d like to give a short glimpse of my own personal experience with Coach Gillespie, and I urge others to do the same. Simply email Prep Baseball Report at [email protected] to share your “Letters for Gordie,” which we will run in a segment throughout the upcoming weeks. It could be a small story, a thank you note, a quote he used, or a larger personal experience you wish to share. Regardless of the length, we’d like to publish the stories of this coaching legend, so that they may live on, and that a younger generation may also share in his legacy.

I’ve known Coach Gillespie my entire life. He was the athletic director/head baseball coach at St. Francis throughout the time my parents were both playing basketball for the Saints from 1978-1983, and my father grew up playing grade school and high school basketball with his son, and my friend, Gordie Jr. (or “Goose” as he’s better known in Joliet).  As a youngster, from the very moment I remember picking up a baseball, I attended Coach’s summer baseball camps learning the fundamentals of the game I love. I remember him telling me I had an arm like Early “Gus” Wynn. I had no idea who that was, but Gordie said it, so I figured it must have been a good thing.

In retrospect, I look back at my athletic career and see the direct influence that Gordie had on every coach I played for. I owe everything to him and them. My grade school basketball coach at St. Patrick’s (Jimmy Sharp) played college football for Gordie; my high school football coach at Joliet Catholic (Dan Sharp) played for and coached with Gordie; my high school baseball coach (Jared Voss) played for Gordie at St. Francis; and my two college coaches at St. Xavier University (Mike Dooley and John Morrey) both played for Gordie at Lewis University. All these men are Hall of Fame coaches in their own right and they all have one thing in common: they consider Gordie Gillespie their mentor as a coach.

The six degrees of separation theory holds true for Gordie when it comes to college baseball circles and Illinois high school athletics. When it comes to Gordie, it usually doesn’t take more than two steps to find the connection. Successful area coaches like Joliet Catholic’s Sharp and Voss, Mount Carmel’s Brian Hurry, Andrew’s Dave DeHaan, Lincoln-Way East’s Paul Babcock, and Lockport’s Butch Markelz all played for the legend, and pass down the same lessons to their athletes.

At a Hot Stove coaches gathering this winter at the National College Coaches’ Convention in Orlando, I shared drinks and stories about Gordie with numerous college baseball coaches of all levels. He was that rare superstar-type personality in the coaching world, and counted other legendary coaches like Itchy Jones, Augie Garrido, Mike Martin, Ron Polk, and Ron Fraser as contemporaries and friends. When you said the name “Gordie” everyone instantly knew who you were talking about, and he headlined the national convention several times, receiving standing ovations after his speeches. He had a gift for public speaking, making grown men want to tear off that tweed sport coat one more time to run through a wall for Coach.

As a sophomore and junior backup quarterback at Joliet Catholic, I shadowed Gordie on the sideline throughout games (he would travel from Ripon, Wisconsin to be with us on Friday nights and consult throughout the week in quarterback meetings over the phone). It was my first experience with witnessing “Gordie Magic” as I like to call it. He’d read a defense, suggest a play to Head Coach Dan Sharp, and we’d inevitably score a touchdown on the subsequent play-action pass or counter. He never took a play off, and he had an innate ability to see what every single position on the field did on a particular play, whether that was in football or baseball. He could instantly make adjustments, putting his teams in the best possible position to have success, thus getting the most out of our talent.

I recall throwing an interception once, and throwing my helmet on the sideline in disgust. Gordie got in my face with a few choice words, not because I misread a defense, but because I was supposed to be a leader on the team, and if teammates witnessed me panicking it failed to set the example that a leader should. I thought about this every time I returned to the dugout after giving up a big inning, or a three-run homer throughout my baseball career and wanted to destroy a Gatorade cooler.

In college, I competed against him when he coached at St. Francis and I played at St. Xavier. It was strange in that I still considered him “my coach,” and wanted to perform well when we squared off, more so than against any other opponent. After games we were friendly as usual, but during those nine innings Gordie wanted to kick our butts, his competitiveness never wavered. I witnessed him take essentially the same players from a 2005 Fighting Saints team that went 25-35, and go 35-25 in 2006, another instance of “Gordie Magic.” I had friends on his team who joked they couldn’t believe how an elderly man could sit in a chair at an indoor practice for three hours, in the gym, in the middle of winter, and still get more out of a team without being able to physically demonstrate.

His mind was always sharp, and I’m convinced there will never be another coach, regardless of the sport, that has a better feel for in-game management, when to push the buttons to make a difference in critical moments. Perhaps it was because he had been there so many times, but I never saw Coach Gillespie change his demeanor in pressure situations. He stayed calm, making you calm, and always found the right thing to say to ease the tension during that 2-minute drill or that bases loaded, bottom of the ninth situation.

When my baseball career was floundering, due to injuries and lack of talent, Coach Gillespie was always there to pick me up, and encourage me to keep going. When I failed to be selected in the 2007 MLB Draft, he called encouraging me to sign an independent baseball contract. He even joked that he’d call as many professional scouts as he could for me, but that it might not do any good since most of his good friends in the professional scouting community had long since passed away.

When I finally got a chance in affiliated minor league baseball, signing a contract with the Arizona Diamondbacks (four years after 2007), Gordie was one of my first phone calls. I think he was happier than I was, and I doubt that I would have had persisted as long if not for his constant encouragement.

That fall/winter before leaving for Spring Training, I assisted my uncle Brian Michalak (who had taken over for Gordie at St. Francis) and had the chance to coach alongside Coach Gillespie. Despite being retired, he made nearly every fall practice, and still took up his usual spot behind the pitcher’s mound umpiring inter-squad games. I made it a point to sit next to him during every game to hear stories of Warren Spahn, Johnny Sain, and constantly talk situational baseball. He had forgotten more about baseball than I’ll ever know.

Make no mistake about it, Gordie won with talented players, but he attracted the type of talent and work ethic that made his teams great. He had an innate ability to see something in a player that others failed to notice, and he made you believe as an individual and as a team that you were capable of far more than you could imagine. He cultivated that talent both on and off the field, and those who played for him became better men because of his leadership. Those men are coaches, teachers, successful business men, public servants, and parents. They sent their former players and their own children (and sometimes grandchildren) to play for Coach. Success bred more success for those 59 seasons.

My last encounter with Coach was this fall at the Joliet Catholic Hall of Champions induction ceremony, which was his final public appearance. My sister Allie was in the inaugural class along with Coach Gillespie, and my younger sister Sam (who now heads the St. Francis women’s basketball program) accepted the award on Allie’s behalf as she was playing in the WNBA Playoffs. Joliet Catholic functions tend to be family affairs, directly because of that legacy and tradition Coach Gillespie created.

Coach was not his usual self; he was relegated to a wheel chair, and I highly doubted he would be able to accept his award on his own. It was tough to see. What happened next left not one dry eye in the entire building, and for a two minute period Coach Gillespie found the strength to summon up that “Gordie Magic” one more time. When I use that phrase, I mean the ability to make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world, the only one in the room…that he was directly talking to you and only you. 250 people in attendance that day felt it one more time, as the tens of thousands who played for him, coached with him, coached against him, and played against him also felt throughout his career.

He stood up from his chair, thankless as he always was, and thanked us for allowing him to be our coach. Another fellow honoree that night, former Chicago Bear and current Bear’s broadcaster Tom Thayer, stood up during his acceptance speech and said, “Gordie, we’re all here for you.”

Coach, one last time, from the bottom of my heart, Thank You. We are all here because of you.