Coach writes playbook on joy at end of life
Determined to make every last inning count, Gail Klock coaches softball while in hospice. The Colorado Peaches need Klock too much for their coach to hide under the covers, waiting for cancer take her away. Death can wait, while the Peaches hone their swings at batting practice.
“I don’t think I’m doing a very good job with this dying business and being at peace with it,” said Klock, writing the playbook on how to squeeze joy from the end of life.
From the time she fell in love with sports as a young girl in the 1950s, spring has smelled like sweet anticipation, even now, with the air heavy from sad farewells.
At a ballpark near her Lakewood home, the outfield grass turns green as unbridled hope, while the infield dirt begs a shortstop to stab a ground ball in the hole. The Peaches, a women’s softball team with 50-yearold rookies and seasoned veterans closing in on 90, take the field for practice, anxious as Rockies third baseman Nolan Arenado or any major-leaguer itching to play ball again in the age of coronavirus.
One of the great sports truths has been reinforced by this pandemic: When the sun is shining, none of us has time to waste.
So as the sarcoma that began festering in Klock’s hip has spread to her lungs and lymph nodes, recent words from her psychologist made perfect sense: “You don’t have to be at peace with dying, Gail. You’ve been a fighter all your life. Of course you’re fighting it now.”
On May 31, donning masks that not only will protect them from the dangers of COVID-19 but also seem destined to absorb heartfelt tears, the Peaches will gather at Addenbrooke Park in suburban Denver, as Klock is presented a special lifetime achievement award from Sportswomen of Colorado.
“We don’t know how much time Gail has left,” said Fran Simon, the youngest player in the Peaches lineup. “We hear her tell us, ‘Look, I’m not going to be (alive) for a tournament in October.’ And that’s really hard. But she also talks about going to batting practice next week, because she is a teacher and a coach to her core.”
During my lifetime covering sports, benefiting from a neverending seminar taught by Hall of Fame coaches, I’ve been blessed to sit at the knee of the late John Wooden at the Final Four. I’ve been squeezed by a warm bear hug from NHL legend Scotty Bowman, far from a hockey rink, at a storied golf course in Scotland.
Well, it seems to me Klock has also mastered the best magic trick performed by Wooden and Bowman. To become a truly great leader, a coach must first be a selfless servant, because all those victories ring hollow unless love for player development is devoid of ego and offered as a humble gift.
“I fell in love with sports as a kid, because I was good at them, even though a girl playing sports was so frowned upon at the time I sometimes felt a sense of shame, like it was inappropriate,” said Klock, born on August 30, 1947, in Pueblo.
Klock is too humble to say, so I will shout it from Mount Evans: She was born with a pioneer spirit as indomitable as the
Rocky Mountains.
Wanting the game in her hands, Klock gravitated to the pitcher’s mound as a child, striking out boys on the playground. Undaunted by the prejudicial, restrictive social mores of the 1960s, she organized pick-up basketball games against girls from a cross-town school, despite being threatened with expulsion by a highschool principal who acted as if sweating was against state law for teenage girls.
Upon graduation from Colorado State, Klock fought for female sports equality on the front line of Title IX battles, as a coach at Wake Forest, Brown and Colorado School of Mines, where she simultaneously led the volleyball, softball and basketball programs. Decades before “Modern Family” became a popular TV show, Klock and her longtime partner raised two beautiful daughters, conceived through artificial insemination.
Get the picture? Challenges make Klock feel alive.
After doctors discovered sarcoma in her hip during the summer of 2011, she not only beat the snot out of the disease, but triumphantly laced up her sneakers again on the basketball court. “When I got the little pin that declared I was cancer free for five years,” Klock said, “it meant more to me than any sports trophy I’d ever won.”
The cancer, however, returned with a vengeance a year ago, refusing to be stopped this time. But quit? No way.
In June 2019, confined to a local hospital bed after a 10hour surgery, Klock coached the Peaches over her cell phone, as they played at a tournament in New Mexico, with the coach making a savvy pitching change via Facetime. The team brought Klock home a silver medal from the National Senior Games.
“I can’t stand the sight of a hospital room anymore,” Klock told me last week. “But I do want to have one more birthday, just to say I did … and because I can.”
A competitor forever keeps score. As a coach, her mostcherished satisfaction is to share the fleeting perfection a player feels when a well-swung bat puts a jolt in a softball.
So it’s maybe no surprise Klock selflessly took the time during one of her last spring days on Earth to teach me a new definition of playing to win.
A champion savors every inning, grateful for every moment of joy, until the final out.
Mark Kiszla: mkiszla@denverpost.com or @markkiszla