The Naples News isn’t a “name” paper. But it did a wonderful job covering its native son, Al Oerter, and his memorial service last month. Scott Hotard’s obituary hit just the right notes. And the story of Al’s memorial service in mid-October began memorably: “Tough men came here to cry.” Naples Newser Charlie Whitehead also wrote a great remembrance. And this 2004 story told of how Al still threw the 2-kilo discus for fun — a couple years before giving up for good. All great yarns (and some neat photos). Check ’em out.

Here’s the service story, in case the link passes on:

Remembering Al Oerter: Heart of gold and Olympic medals to match
Daily News staff
Originally published — 8:53 p.m., October 18, 2007
Updated — 10:47 p.m., October 19, 2007
Tough men came here to cry.
They filed into The First Christian Church on McGregor Boulevard in Fort Myers, stirred up from virtually every corner of the country they represented as Olympic athletes. Stirred up by the death of another tough man, another champion.
They still looked fit, even though most were decades past their prime. They still looked as if they could throw discs halfway across a football field or leap across a living room.
But they also looked vulnerable.
Their barreled chests and broad shoulders were covered by suit jackets. Their trademark competitiveness was covered by grief.
Al Oerter, the first athlete to win four straight Olympic gold medals in the same event, died Oct. 1. The Fort Myers Beach resident’s heart failed him at 71, years after Oerter decided he’d never seek the transplant that doctors advised.
On Friday afternoon, a crowd of about 300 turned out to say goodbye. The significance of the memorial service — and the man it honored — could be measured in several ways, but the number of Olympians on hand seemed the logical place to start.
Bob Beamon, who won a gold medal in 1968 in the long jump, came. So did Rink Babka (discus, silver, 1960) and Hal Connolly (hammer throw, gold, 1956). Pat McCormick, one of the great female divers in U.S. history and a four-time gold medalist, was also there.
Figures.
“You know what you got here?” said longtime Oerter friend John Boos, an elite-level bodybuilder who trained with Oerter on Long Island some 30 years ago. “One of the greatest athletes to ever live.”
Indeed, Oerter’s four straight wins in the discus make him an Olympic icon. He won the first in 1956 at age 20, as a University of Kansas sophomore.
Carl Lewis, a fellow American, later managed a similar stranglehold on the long jump. He won that event four times in a row, beginning in 1984.
But Oerter, a New York City native, distinguished himself by breaking his own Olympic record in every appearance. And not once was he the favorite to win — on paper, anyway.
“His competitors quivered when he stepped on the field,” said Connolly, as he spoke to the gathering, “because of the image he presented.”
The image flashed time after time during a couple of slide shows and video clips. It was Oerter in his heyday, a Harrison Ford look-alike with freakish muscle mass.
Indeed, it’s one way to remember him.
But this wasn’t simply a tribute to an Olympic hero. Fact is, those close to Oerter identified him by his greatest passion — abstract art — in the final years of his life.
Oerter, who was born in Queens and raised on Long Island, spearheaded Art of the Olympians, an exhibit he hoped would find a permanent home in Fort Myers.
Oerter’s death has brought attention to his work — and to his mission. The City of Fort Myers is considering the City Pier building as a possible site for the exhibit.
“Al was always moving forward,” said his wife, Cathy Oerter. “He had difficulty looking into the past. He was a man of the moment.”
Hence his Olympic success.
But that’s his legacy to the world. The memorial focused more on the man.
Gabrielle Oerter, the younger of Oerter’s two daughters, said she always viewed her father as Superman. She said it was as much for his enthusiasm and charisma as his muscles.
“My dad’s heart stopped,” Gabrielle said, “but his spirit doesn’t.”
Cathy Oerter talked of what a good husband Al made. She said the two never argued. If they had a disagreement, he wouldn’t raise his voice. He’d simply tell Cathy that he bet he was right. The wager was 25 cents, every time.
“Our life was made up of a series of these quarter bets,” Cathy told the gathering. “And by the time Al passed away, he owed me about a dollar-fifty. And I owed him about $75,000.”
“He was the greatest,” she said.
That’s why they came, these big men with heavy hearts. Men like Matt Ghaffari, who won a silver medal for the United States in wrestling 11 years ago.
Ghaffari has been retired some time, but he’s still a monster — 6-foot-4, 300-plus pounds. He looks strong enough to body slam the world — most days.
“Give me two minutes,” Ghaffari said after the service, trying to keep from getting choked up. “I’ve been holding it in all day.”
Why not let it out?
“Al wants us to celebrate,” said Ghaffari, who had been friends with Oerter since they became training partners in the early ‘90s. “He had a really good life.”