It was a typical day of class, a lecture hall filled with students. In the back of the room, the professor spotted an unfamiliar 65-year-old man standing there and asked the man who he is.
“I’m a teacher too, and I’m here to enjoy your outstanding lecture,” UCLA baseball coach Gary Adams responded.
But Adams wasn’t simply there to sit in. He was there about a player who he heard was missing class.
Five minutes after being called out by the professor, Adams left mildly embarrassed and called the player.
The player excused himself, saying he couldn’t make it that day. From there, Adams followed through with a philosophy that has defined his program from day one.
“I told him that since it was the third or fourth time he had missed class he was not going to suit up for the game that night,” Adams said. “Well, he gets to the ballpark and he’s in sweats, and I tell him that he’s not on the team tonight and he can watch from the stands if he likes. Ever since, he’s performed better in the classroom and on the field.”
This story epitomizes what Adams, who is retiring at the end of this season, stands for and how he has run UCLA baseball for the past 30 years.
His role as baseball coach has been the vehicle by which he has accomplished his best work – teaching. Players respect and admire him so much that he can will the best out of them.
The fact that the professor did not recognize Adams is both tragic and understandable. With a stadium off-campus and less of a tradition of excellence than other programs, UCLA baseball often flies under the radar.
This is unfortunate because few people at UCLA recognize a coach as beloved by those who know him as John Wooden.
“We don’t get a whole lot of students,” said Adams, a former UCLA student himself who earned his master’s degree in physical education in 1962.
“The biggest crowd we’ve ever had is when we gave two kegs away to the fraternity and sorority that cheered the loudest – though UCLA wasn’t so hot for the idea.”
But in the college baseball community, Adams and what he stands for are certainly well known.
“There isn’t a coach in baseball who is more respected than Gary Adams,” UCLA Athletic Director Dan Guerrero said. “He leaves a legacy of quality student-athletes that has resulted in men of character.”
Teacher
Adams’ reply to the professor that he is a teacher couldn’t be more true.
Adams, or “Skip” as he is referred to by his past and present players, is the epitome of a players’ coach.
It is quite simple to see why. He has always done everything in his players’ best interests.
“Our program is like the real world,” senior outfielder Chad Concolino said. “A lot of programs, the coaches are control freaks ... (Adams) lets you play the game. With the kind of man he is, even though he’s a players’ coach and such a great guy, you have to respect him.”
Most of Adams’ work is done in preparation and instruction. He leaves the games to the players.
“He has always approached the game from practice with incredible energy,” said hitting coach Vince Beringhele, who played for Adams and has coached with him for the past 15 years. “Most people wouldn’t know he’s so much more than baseball. He’s about giving (players) life lessons.”
Sometimes those life lessons are a bit unconventional.
Adams has eaten an egg yolk, staged a boxing match complete with fake blood while the players watched in shock, had a fake argument with a player in Spanish, sprung his twin brother from under a sheet on confused freshmen rubbing their eyes over two identical Adamses, and recited Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 to the team on Valentine’s Day – complete with a Shakespearean hat.
“Sometimes you have to be a little corny to get a message across,” Adams said. “I was saying how it’s time to get dirty and play tough and to get our uniforms down and dirty like a worm, and I pulled this worm out of the grass that I had placed there and I said, ‘Worms eat dirt.’ And to show them, I took few bites.”
While he is a players’ coach, Adams isn’t immune to administering harsh punishments for infractions. An avid runner, Adams once made a player run to the beach and back.
“He said, ‘Let’s go for a run,’ and took off down San Vicente,” Beringhele said. “He didn’t want to kill the poor guy, so on the way back he found a house with a hose so he didn’t get dehydrated.”
“He still runs and keeps in shape, and he brings that sort of attitude to the field,” sophomore catcher Chris Denove added. “Everyday he’s out there, and his enthusiasm really rubs off on the team.”
Even at 65, his energy appears boundless, from besting the team in sprints to actively helping out in drills.
“We were practicing at the beginning of the year and he’s diving back to first,” Concolino said. “At his age and the fact that he’s scraping his body and head, it’s like, ‘Oh my god!’ He’s a crack-up, and that’s why we’re trying so hard to win for him.”
Preparation
Gary Adams has been successful.
This statement is both indisputable and bearing a glaring weakness.
Well then why isn’t UCLA baseball among the preeminent programs in the country? Why has Adams only once reached the College World Series? And unlike practically every other varsity sport at UCLA, why has baseball never won a national championship?
“(A championship) is icing on the cake as far as I’m concerned,” Adams said. “That would have been nice, but my legacy is the same as it’s always been. Every player knows that I’ve cared about him as a player, a student, but most of all as a person.”
This may seem like a resigned statement from a coach who has come to grips with his inability to achieve what many at UCLA want most from him. But the fact is that his actions over the years have mirrored exactly what he says.
Bruin baseball players have always graduated at a much higher rate than other programs, both with their diplomas and to the next level.
A remarkably high amount of Adams’ players graduate, even many of those who depart after being drafted following their junior year. Once a player leaves the program though, he is not immune to calls from Adams regarding his degree.
“I talk about (graduating) to my players all the time,” Adams said. “They know how important it is to me, to their parents, and most importantly to themselves, though they may not know it presently. In all my 30 years at UCLA, I’ve never delegated the responsibility (of monitoring education) to my assistants. If they mess up, it’s my fault and my players’ fault.”
“When we go recruiting, he always tells the parents that he will make sure he stays after them academically,” Beringhele said.
“Right now it’s baseball and getting an education, and after here it’s baseball and getting married and then it’s having kids. And that’s part of his teaching. You’re always going to have to balance things.”
Since college at its very basic level is to prepare students for the “real world,” Adams is the most accomplished coach in the country.
He has sent 38 players to the major leagues, more than any active coach.
“It’s difficult to produce winning programs because year after year guys are getting drafted,” Denove said.
Many of these players, including Eric Karros of the A’s and the Dodgers’ Dave Roberts, didn’t come to UCLA on scholarship, but were molded to be pros from the time they walked on.
“What you learn from Skip, you’re able to take with you past baseball,” Concolino said. “And that’s why we have the most guys to go pro, because (the coaches) tell you to be your own player.”
The batboy
Adams has maintained the same attitude and approach to the game throughout his career, with one notable exception.
Adams relinquished his soon-to-be-retired No. 13 in 2003 in honor of former batboy, Drew Nelson.
Nelson was a big baseball fan and was coming to UCLA to have an operation for a heart deformity. Adams invited him to watch practice before the operation and the team showered him with encouragement and souvenirs.
The operation was a success, and Adams asked Nelson to be a batboy, and gave him the number 00.
Three years later, though, Nelson needed a new operation and a heart transplant, and while waiting for one, he passed away.
“(Drew) meant a lot to the team,” Adams said. “We dedicated the season to Drew. His Little League number was 13, and he pitched even with his heart condition. I retired his Little League No. 13 on our wall in the locker room, and I wore 00 that year as a reminder of the big heart Drew had.”
This is the kind of story that best exemplifies Adams’ legacy. In a world where college athletics often consume peoples’ lives, he consistently showed his players a perspective rejecting that trend.
For him, college baseball was always more about the college and less about the baseball.
This philosophy has not avoided controversy.
The world of collegiate athletics has certainly taken a more serious tone through Adams’ 30 years. College programs have increasingly focused more on winning, as the prizes for on-field success grow.
Not to say that Adams hasn’t won, because he has, at times prolifically. He took home two Division II titles at UC Irvine. Then he came to Westwood and has racked up 980 victories and counting, reaching the postseason often, including seven times since 1990.
Thus, it is fitting that while the 2004 Bruins were not expected to contend, Adams has them on the verge of making the postseason for the first time since 2000, seemingly quelling any talk as he retires of his inability to make the most of his players on the field.
“I couldn’t ask for a better group of guys to send me out,” he said. “This has been a very special team for me. They’ve given me everything they’ve had. They may be the surprise team in the country.”
Still, though, the nagging fact remains that at a school that expects championships, he has produced none.
“Our goal here is to go to Omaha (the College World Series), and that’s Gary’s goal too,” Guerrero said. “But I don’t think that’s how his meaning to the program should be valued. I would love every coach to be able to foster the kind of relationships that he has with alumni. He is a gentleman and a class act.”
Adams would enjoy nothing more than a championship to cap off his career, but he realizes that that is not something that should define his ambitions and his legacy.
“Today’s college game is more about having to win and he himself hasn’t been all into winning,” Beringhele said. “While he wants to win, he won’t do it against the greater good.”
Farewell
Adams’ players seem to understand this greater good. They graduate, move on, and always come back.
Alumni day is filled with Adams graduates – many of them major leaguers – making the pilgrimage to pay tribute to the man who is responsible for much of what they’ve become.
As Adams coaches his last few games at UCLA, there is really no doubt left as to whether his program was successful. Even though naysayers will always point to the lack of the ultimate prize, the verdict on his career transcends titles.
He has arguably accomplished just as much here as any other coach in this school’s history.
“In a nutshell, there is no place I would have rather been than UCLA. This is the school I love,” he said.
“At UCLA, there have been ups and downs. I’ve lived with praise and criticism coming from fans, administrators, and others. That’s life. My mom and dad always taught me, ‘Don’t be sensitive and understand they might be right.’”