In Memory of

Chris Robinson '76 posted a photo:

Bruce was my childhood best friend. I first met Bruce in the fall of 1968 when we were both fifth graders at Genoa Elementary in the Perry Local Schools of Massillon, Ohio. He and his family lived in a tiny bungalow on Lynch – perpendicular to Rowmont where I lived. Riding his bike, he stopped by my house one afternoon to meet the new guy, and we hit it off right away. Soon he realized his new neighbor and classmate was athletically challenged and took it upon himself to take me under his wing.

Bruce taught me how to throw a tight spiral, catch a pass over my shoulder while running down the sideline, and cover receivers from the cornerback position: “Just stay in front of him, Chris – stay in front of him!” By doing so, I was always in position to make the tackle if the receiver made the catch. But the best thing was to see the pass coming so that I could just step in front of the receiver and make the interception. At that time in my life, there was no greater joy. He also taught me how to placekick.

Prior to meeting Bruce, I had played on little league baseball teams but I wasn’t very good. Bruce taught me how to hold the bat upright, like Carl Yastrzemski, and swing earlier. Suddenly, I could hit! He taught me how to throw sidearm, steal a base, and catch for a pitcher. This could be a scary thing as Bruce could throw a 90 mph fastball in the 8th grade. You could hear the ball sizzle through the air before the loud smack into the glove. (And yes, it did sting!) He also threw a wicked curve. Before long, I came to trust Bruce implicitly. Wherever I held the catcher’s mitt, over the outside corner or whatever, that’s where the pitch arrived every time. His accuracy was astonishing. Just as with football: whenever I stretched out my hands, that’s where the ball landed.

Bruce taught me everything I know about baseball and football: the rules of the game, the proper techniques for any offensive and defensive position, designing plays (Xs and 0s), strategies, teams, key players, officiating signals – you name it. He was a great teacher with natural athletic ability. He worked out regularly and was incredibly strong for someone so young. He could have played any position and play it well. (He was center on the Edison Junior High football team) and a defensive end. Carl Eller and Alan Page of the Minnesota Vikings were his role models.

In the 7th grade, Bruce was diagnosed with some sort of genetic disorder affecting his knees. His doctor ordered him to take a year off from sports. No running, no blocking or tackling, and he couldn’t be tackled – nothing. He could stand in place and throw the football – that’s it. He was devastated. We all were – our little Crescent Gardens Peanuts Gang. He risked permanent damage if he disobeyed and could spend the rest of his life wearing knee braces. Nevertheless, the training continued. He would plant his feet and throw me long bombs down the sideline in Perry Park.

When we were in the 5th and 6th grade at Genoa, Bruce was my protector. I was bullied quite a bit, often ganged up on when I was alone retrieving my coat to go out for recess after lunch. Things would get ugly until Bruce would suddenly appear silently in the doorway. He never had to say a word. They knew we were friends and backed way off. The bullies were scared to death of him. He would look them in the eye, then help me up, put his arm around my shoulder and escort me out. He probably saved my life on a number of occasions.

Bruce was also one of the smartest people I ever knew. He excelled at every subject. He taught me how to take notes and how to study before an exam. He was a talented trombonist in Symphonic Band, Marching Band and Jazz Ensemble, and could arrange music.

I ran into Bruce at the BP on the corner of Lincoln Way and Jackson Avenue one night when I was home from college. He was working at Doctor’s Hospital and had recently married Penny. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. That was the last time I saw him. So long, old friend, and thanks for everything. - - Chris Robinson – Class of 76.