Services for masters great Tom Gage are Thursday in Montana
Tom Gage as collegiate thrower.
About Ken Stone
Ken has followed track as an athlete, writer and web-master since the late 1960s, and saw most sessions of track and field at the 1984 Los Angeles and 1996 Atlanta Olympics. He also attended the 1988, 1992, 2000, 2004, 2008 and 2012 Trials, the last three as a blogger and Patch correspondent. [More...]
Ken Stone
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The Throwing Events Sub Committee, which I chair and consists of a rep from each region, will be meeting on Thursday after the last hammer flight (fittingly M65, Tom’s group). The meeting was already schedule and we’ve already added an item to our agenda — an appropriate memorial to Tom.
The Big Sky State Games briefly discussed Mr. Gage and his commitment and success in the sport over the years over the PA at today’s event. I was at the discus ring and could not hear very well, but I was glad that they recognized such an ambassador of the sport and the throws.
Perhaps, the OTCM Board of Directors can discuss a tribute to Tom Gage at the 2011 Hayward Classic. Tom was a regular contributor to the event as well as an outstanding participant. It was less than a month ago when he was here in Eugene for the Hayward Classic and visited with many of his friends at the reception.
Very sad to hear that Tom is gone. I first met Tom at the USCAA Nationals in Renton, Washington in 2000. I was a rookie on the Exxonmobil Tigers team and was told that they did not need me to throw as we had an ex-olympian named Tom Gage. It was an honor to compete beside him for a few years. I was at the US Indoor Nationals in 2009 and hoped to see him there, but he did not make it. Goodbye Tom, you will be remembered.
How sad to hear of Tom’s death. He was a most remarkable man on so many dimensions. I have spoken wth him many times over the years and he always made such a point to thank by name all the non-throwing athletes he spotted who might be watching the throwing competitions.
I had the pleasure of first meeting Tom when he was at Cornell in the Fall of ’65 finishing his final year in the (then) 5-year B.S. Engineering program. Having used up his 4 years of eligibility, he worked out religiously nonetheless. One of many stories to show what a kind, compassionate person he was: In the fieldhouse he saw me, a freshman at 6 ft, 160, trying to put the 16-lb shot, just goofing off. He asked me if I wanted to learn how to do it correctly! Within a week, he had me gliding with all my long-jumper leg’s might and I hit just a tad over 30 ft. I was so thrilled and flattered to have someone even talk with me at this stressful time in my life! But this handome, famous, larger-than-life (to us!) guy was never too busy to encourage everyone, despite his busy academic load in engineering. He was that way with all of us, a giant of a man in every wonderful way possible. He and our Assistant Coach, Glen Davis, another legend, would kid each other constantly and set such a loose, wonderful tone in practice.
It was such an honor to know him. My sincere condolences to all of his family and friends.
I participate in Master’s track because of 2 Toms. My former roommate Tom Fraus turned me on to Master’s track about 15 years ago (Tom was a Cornell Fiji who finished 2nd in the NCAA hammer). Several years later I bumped into Tom Gage at the San Jose Nationals (another Cornell Fiji-2 years my senior). I have been blessed to be able to enjoy track and to enjoy the companionship of many men of character and talent. Both of these Toms are gone now, but I have the memories of the time we spent with them at Cornell and in Master’s track. Tom Gage set a standard that we all train to reach.
The Greeks believed that you lived on if people remembered you. One Tom got me started, and the other one motivated me to keep training. I will remember them both.
1966 Young Gage
clean cut… no hair, no swear..no booze …back then…
a new young wife..we talked of life…and Montana Eagles in flight…. He loved his Mountains…
His throw was piqued…I offered a que…he beat us all…he threw…!
We kept in touch..tho not too much… I saw his throw results… then joined him in the Masters best.. It was nose to nose …and all the best..
and you can guess the rest…it was not the throw
how far you know…or who beat who…that day…
it was the big warm hug…and clink the mug for we’d
had a really fun day… God Loves you and so do I Tom…
I am absolutely shocked to learn of Tom’s passing. Tom Gage was one of several master throwers who I have looked up to and watched in awe over the years, and a friendly face that I always looked for in the “throwing crowd” when I attended Nationals. I remember him when I first started thowing. He was never too busy to give a tip, or a cheer/word of encouragement when I stepped into the ring. He was a true “Master”-not just in age, but in his love for the sport. I wholeheartedly agree with some sort of memorial, meet dedication, or a special thrower’s award in his name.
I’m sure I speak for many with condolences and expressions of sympathy to his family and friends.
He will be sincerely missed.
This is the poem I wrote and read at my dad’s memorial service yesterday. I thought sharing it might allow some of you to get a glimpse at the great man I proudly call Dad!
My Dad’s Way
My dad’s way of saying “You’re just like me!”
“Rotten apples don’t bounce far from the tree”
The back-handed compliment I loved to hear
The two of us chuckling and sharing a beer
My dad’s way of making a wrong joke right
With his dialects, mannerisms… such a sight!
Never worried how many times we’d heard it before
Somehow he still managed to make us roar
My dad’s way of scaring-off the young boys
He said “No worries, son, this rifle is just ONE of my toys”
They would cower and tuck tails quickly and shyly
While my dad stood watching and smiling wryly
My dad’s way of always finding something to learn
“Look it up in the encyclopedia” he would say, quite stern
“Okay, dad… the word ‘neighbor’ is German and means
Near-dweller… Now, can I eat the rest of my beans?”
My dad’s way of enjoying a good storm roll through
Watching the grey clouds take over the blue
Torching his pipe and kicking up his feet
Patting his thigh for me to take a seat
My dad’s way of needing to throw heavy things
His competitive nature, the happiness it brings
To those who admire and watch in great awe
“The Scream” makes viewers question what they just saw
My dad’s way of camping, fishing, hunting and hiking
He even tackled the Beartooth by biking
Cross-country skiing, the only man that I knew
Who would ski knee-deep to build an igloo
My dad’s way of wearing his plaid flannel shirt
Somehow, from scratchy to soft it would convert
Within a hug that engulfed me in an instant, like that
And often paired with his favorite black hat
My dad’s way of braving me leaving our home
“Do you have a quarter? While you’re out, while you roam?”
I’d nod and say, “Yes, of course, Dad… I’ll call if I need”
And with a final, “Make good decisions” he’d hope I would heed
My dad’s way off making a square, flat-tipped nose endearing
At me, his sparkling blue eyes would be peering
From under his fluffy blonde eyebrows that didn’t match
His shock of black hair, I would brag, “My dad is a catch!”
My dad’s way of calling me “Pooh” or “Pooh Bear”
Always said tenderly, with a great amount of care
He called me that, he told me, because of my simple mind
Said with appreciation, admiration… his “one of a kind”
My dad’s way of fixing cars in the garage
When not going well it was an absolute barrage
Of curse words, a whole slew… long and quite robust
But he would figure it out, fix that thing, after he fussed
My dad’s way of never giving up, on things or on me
When stuck on a problem and wanting to flee
He’d quote “Never, never, never, never give up,” from Churchill
I hear my dad and those words when I don’t have the will
My dad’s way of then saying, “With you I never worry.”
“You’re like a cat… even when life is quite blurry”
He’d say with confidence and truly upbeat
“You, my dear daughter, always land on your feet”
My dad’s way of being so stubborn and resourceful
Somehow he managed to be both without being forceful
He did things with such determination and heart
Never afraid to tackle an issue, a challenge… always ready to start
My dad’s way of serving coffee like mud, no fluff
Stronger than strong… and black… some of you know the stuff
And that’s who he was… hefty, hearty and thick
Healthy I thought… I mean, the man never got sick
My dad’s way of brewing beer completely from scratch
Oh my gosh… my mom, once, blew-up a batch
Molasses spotted our kitchen for a few days
But my dad merely chuckled, to him it did not phase
My dad’s way of moving… the mannerisms that were just him
Like pushing his hair behind his ear when it was in need of a trim
Or the way he held his pipe while he chewed on the tip
He’d give the smoke and extra puff off the end of his lip
My dad’s way of squeezing me ever-so-tight
These moments filled with pride and love… everything so right!
No other place in the world I’d rather be
Than in my dad’s bear hug… him holding me
My dad’s way of thinking he would somehow live forever
And I’d think to myself, “Well, now isn’t that clever?”
Such a wishful, silly thing to think and feel
Didn’t he know that dream wasn’t real?
My dad’s way was a way like no other
Not like his mom, his dad or even his brother
But a way to live life, a way all his own
He lived and played HARD right down to the bone
My dad’s way is a way that lives forever within me
The rotten apple definitely did not bounce far from that tree
I don’t know in which moments this great loss will hit… or where
But my love for my dad… well, there is nothing so deep, so rare
And nothing in this world will ever compare!
Loving you Always and Forever, Dad!
~ Your Pooh Bear
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