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jianantonicI found out today that my friend Geoff died unexpectedly earlier this week. The details are unclear, but he had been in the hospital recently with diabetes-related issues. He was in his late 50's or early 60's, I think -- he was my uncle's bridge partner, but also had played a bit with me and McKenzie, and was my teammate in my most memorable bridge win ever -- the first time we beat the Meckwell team, when I made Bronze Life Master in DC in 2008.
Geoff was certainly one of the top bridge players in Virginia, and when he first hit the scene playing with my uncle, he quickly earned a reputation as somewhat of a hardass at the table. (I think this goes back to people presuming younger, elite players to be elitist more than it speaks to his actual behavior, but anyway that was the reputation.) My mom was not a fan, but above all else, she is a gracious southern hostess, and so when my uncle asked her if he and Geoff could crash at her house during a Charlottesville tournament, she plastered a smile on her face and agreed. But she bitched and moaned and dreaded it until the day came. She and Geoff had never spoken a word and she believed him to be a cold jerk. But when he came in the house after the first day of play, he immediately picked up the cat (who himself was kind of a standoffish asshole, too, at least back then), and baby talked and snuggled Batman at the kitchen table for more than an hour while talking to my mom about cats. Her opinion changed on the spot, and that was the first time I really saw for myself that my mom can be kind of full of shit when she talks about people. I thought Geoff was rad.
He stayed with us a few more times for Charlottesville tournaments throughout my teen years, and then when I was in college, he took a job transfer down to Florida, and I didn't see him for two years, until I caddied my first Gatlinburg. He was there playing pro, and he had a present for me -- two Steve Finley rookie cards that he'd been carrying around waiting to run into me at a tournament -- for TWO YEARS. He knew I was in love with Fins, and when he found the cards in his collection, he knew I'd appreciate them. It's a simple gesture, sure, but the fact that I hadn't seen him in so long, and he remembered and had carried these things around for two years to give to me just blew me away. What a nice guy.
Now, okay, he was kind of a crotchety ass, too. He suffered from crippling chronic pain as a side effect of either his diabetes or his diabetes medication, and he was often in a pretty shitty mood as a result. He was never mean, though, just often grouchy. But he didn't take it out on others at all -- I could just see how it'd be easy to mistake him for a jerk, given his crappy moods all the time. But after a few years of dealing with the awful pain, he tried an experimental diet where 75% of what he ate was fat, and I think he had no carbs ever. He got his pain and diabetes under control, and even lost a bunch of weight, but if I had to guess I'd say the diet probably had something to do with his early death. Still, his quality of life was orders of magnitude better than before he was on it, so it was probably the right choice for him anyway. I remember one evening when we went out to a Mexican restaurant between sessions. Everyone in our group had some combination of rice and beans and cheese, but because of his diet, Geoff ordered steak. Not a Mexican specialty. He devoured it, though, and I asked him "How was your steak?" "HORRIBLE!" We all got a kick out of this, as he'd completely cleaned his plate, but his tone of voice made it clear that he was not fucking around. That steak had been traumatically bad. Poor guy.
Geoff was a good guy, a good friend, and a great bridge player. I'm really bummed to lose him, and I'll miss the shit out of him, but I'm also really glad I knew him. He was just a cool fucker.
Geoff was certainly one of the top bridge players in Virginia, and when he first hit the scene playing with my uncle, he quickly earned a reputation as somewhat of a hardass at the table. (I think this goes back to people presuming younger, elite players to be elitist more than it speaks to his actual behavior, but anyway that was the reputation.) My mom was not a fan, but above all else, she is a gracious southern hostess, and so when my uncle asked her if he and Geoff could crash at her house during a Charlottesville tournament, she plastered a smile on her face and agreed. But she bitched and moaned and dreaded it until the day came. She and Geoff had never spoken a word and she believed him to be a cold jerk. But when he came in the house after the first day of play, he immediately picked up the cat (who himself was kind of a standoffish asshole, too, at least back then), and baby talked and snuggled Batman at the kitchen table for more than an hour while talking to my mom about cats. Her opinion changed on the spot, and that was the first time I really saw for myself that my mom can be kind of full of shit when she talks about people. I thought Geoff was rad.
He stayed with us a few more times for Charlottesville tournaments throughout my teen years, and then when I was in college, he took a job transfer down to Florida, and I didn't see him for two years, until I caddied my first Gatlinburg. He was there playing pro, and he had a present for me -- two Steve Finley rookie cards that he'd been carrying around waiting to run into me at a tournament -- for TWO YEARS. He knew I was in love with Fins, and when he found the cards in his collection, he knew I'd appreciate them. It's a simple gesture, sure, but the fact that I hadn't seen him in so long, and he remembered and had carried these things around for two years to give to me just blew me away. What a nice guy.
Now, okay, he was kind of a crotchety ass, too. He suffered from crippling chronic pain as a side effect of either his diabetes or his diabetes medication, and he was often in a pretty shitty mood as a result. He was never mean, though, just often grouchy. But he didn't take it out on others at all -- I could just see how it'd be easy to mistake him for a jerk, given his crappy moods all the time. But after a few years of dealing with the awful pain, he tried an experimental diet where 75% of what he ate was fat, and I think he had no carbs ever. He got his pain and diabetes under control, and even lost a bunch of weight, but if I had to guess I'd say the diet probably had something to do with his early death. Still, his quality of life was orders of magnitude better than before he was on it, so it was probably the right choice for him anyway. I remember one evening when we went out to a Mexican restaurant between sessions. Everyone in our group had some combination of rice and beans and cheese, but because of his diet, Geoff ordered steak. Not a Mexican specialty. He devoured it, though, and I asked him "How was your steak?" "HORRIBLE!" We all got a kick out of this, as he'd completely cleaned his plate, but his tone of voice made it clear that he was not fucking around. That steak had been traumatically bad. Poor guy.
Geoff was a good guy, a good friend, and a great bridge player. I'm really bummed to lose him, and I'll miss the shit out of him, but I'm also really glad I knew him. He was just a cool fucker.
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Date: 2012-10-04 11:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-05 03:32 am (UTC)-- Kevin