I'm not surprised that Bob Auler would have heart failure. No one had a bigger heart or had it full of the things he loved more than him. He roared like a Grizzly Bear but in truth was a big teddy bear. More passionate about the things and the people he loved than virtually anyone else I have ever met. I'll miss you Robert Auler. But at the same time I know you are watching over all of us, between innings of Cubs games, in heaven that is.
Bob loved so many things. His children, Robbie, Jamie, Jen. When he talked about them he glowed. I have known Bob for over 30 years and in that time children were always the first thing he wanted to talk about. Recitals, grandchildren and the successes of each of his relatives were at the top of his list.
He love the Cubs. He grew up listening to WGN radio just as I did. With that came a never ending passion for stories of Banks, Santo, Beckert, Kessinger, Jenkins and Hundley. Bob dreamed of wearing the pin stripes and lived his dreams by attending Cubs fantasy camps. Get him started on his trips to Arizona and soon he had you believing he had embarrassed Ferguson Jenkins by hitting his fast ball over the center field fence, with the crowd roaring and Jack Brickhouse screaming "Hey Hey".
Bob loved the Illini. He agonized over every loss, every fumble and every missed opportunity. He will forever be connected to Illinois Football where he valiantly defended Dave Wilson, a UI quarterback seeking eligibility after transferring, vs. the NCAA. Bob got national pub for that case and he relished it. But while Bob may not have been to every basketball, football or baseball game in his life, especially in his later years, he made a point to listen to the radio and read every word in the papers. Bob's long term friendship with Mr. Illini Loren Tate was something he cherished, especially the opportunity to read Loren's columns before they were printed. I suspect that Bob has the lineups for the 1989 and 2005 Final 4 basketball teams tattooed on his body. And somewhere in heaven he can watch the 1983 Football Victory over Michigan over and over again.
Bob loved to write. I wish I had a quarter for every time he told me about the books he had written and how well received they were. Ironically as much as I read I have never read one of his books. I know though that he had himself in the same league as Grisham, Hemingway, Steinbeck and perhaps Shakespeare. He was passionate about putting to paper his fiction and as many have told me, most certainly him, he was good at it.
He loved to eat. Going out with Bob was a treat. We had breakfast together many times over the years, whether most often at Taffies or most recently at Urbana Gardens. He savored bacon, eggs, toast and even biscuits and gravy. And dinner with Bob was food extravaganza. He rarely failed to order appetizers or dessert. He loved ice cream nearly as much as I did so a sundae after a meal was often in order.
Bob loved his friends. Always the center of attention in any group, Bob was loyal to his friends and we were all loyal to him. Each of us has a "Bob Auler" story where he went out of his way to help us and never asked for a dime. These stories are personal and for the most part private. He didn't want credit, he just wanted to know he could help.
Bob loved Matilda. Matilda is a big bloodhound. Free spirited, full of energy, Matilda was to dogs what Bob was to life. Full of it. She loved Bob and Bob loved her. One of the most important support groups I have had in my battle with cancer has been the "Doggie Play Group" friends. 15 or so people who hang out together while our dogs play. Bob invited me to play group almost 10 years ago. Some of my best friends, many I would have never met otherwise, are in that group. I loved coming to play group in the morning at 7 AM or so and sitting with Bob and discussing the latest in sports, local or national news or just our personal lives. Bob read he newspaper religiously keeping him well versed on every subject. The last two years have been difficult for Bob to make play group with his walking limitations, but still once in awhile he would pull up with Matilda in he silver SUV with the "SUEM" license plates and spend a few minutes telling us stories.
Bob loved the law. He was committed to fairness and especially the idea that everyone makes mistakes and deserves a second chance. I can't begin to tell you the numbers of times I consulted Bob because a student I was connected with got into trouble, serious trouble. Bob would advise me on what to say, where to go and who to call and in each case follow up and make certain the student was treated fairly. Again, all without asking for a dime. Students mattered to Bob. I suspect at some point he was treated unfairly and felt obligated to pay it back. No matter how he came upon this this principle, he was devoted to it.
I want to share a couple of stories about Bob. In 1989 Bob took over the Champaign County Colts minor league baseball team. I think he managed it for two years but it may have been three. I was working for the DIA at the U of I and assigned to Illinois Field where the Colts played. My job was to make sure we had the fields ready and provide what his team needed for their home games. Bob was a cross between George Steinbrenner, ornery, and Bill Veeck, full of creativity.
One day I mentioned to Bob I had this vision of every game starting with the James Earl Jones monologue from Field of Dreams. The "People will Come" speech. http://www.americanrhetoric.com/MovieSpeeches/moviespeechfieldofdreams.html
The next game Bob had it playing on the sound system and continued to play it each game the Colts played there.
Another day Bob told me he was bringing an elephant to the game, to come in from center field and deliver the game ball to the pitcher. We had recently installed a irrigation system with lots of plastic piping. I envisioned an elephant foot snapping a pipe or sprinkler head and told him no, the elephant could be outside in the parking lot, but not on the field. He wasn't happy.
Still another day Bob wanted to have local magician, Andy Dallas, be suspended by a crane above the pitcher's mound, escape from a straight jacket and deliver the game ball to the pitcher. I told him, "great idea, but no crane on the infield." The crane ended up outside the outfield fence and Andy dropped the ball to the centerfielder. It was fun, but not what Bob wanted.
We had a great few years though and I respected his passion for the game. He brought mutual close friend Stacy Pomonis to run the concession stand. Stacy ran Taffies and Merry Annes, two local restaurants where Bob ate regularly and as far as I know never paid for a meal. I would get so mad a Bob some days because he had ignored one of our rules that I would go sit with Stacy in the concession stand and cool off. It's funny in retrospect because it was two massive egos, his and mine, nose to nose. I think that is why we were such good friends, we were cut out the same cloth.
Bob's son Robbie helped Bob run the Colts. He was the General Manager at the ripe old age of about 16. Robbie is truly one of the most talented musicians to ever come from Central Illinois. A professor of music and skilled pianist, Robbie has played in Carnegie Hall several times. Brilliant would be the word to describe him Robbie reminded me at the visitation how Bob would record attendance for the Colt games. We might look around and count 80 or so at the game including the players and umpires. Bob however would tell us "we had over 700 at the game." Robbie and I think he was including the crickets.
One of my closest friends, Steve Nieslawski, grew up in Oglesby IL, Bob's hometown, and ending up clerking for Bob for three years. One winter day Bob comes in the office and tells Steve, "grab your coat, we have to leave." Bob and Steve walked 4 blocks to University Avenue and proceeded to throw snowballs at the billboard across the street. Steve said Bob was the "best snowball thrower he ever saw." Not surprising of course. I'm sure in Bob's mind he was Adolpho Phillips throwing from deep centerfield to Randy Hundley, in time to nail Lou Brock advancing from second to home on a base hit.
So I hope you can see what I mean when I say Bob's heart was eventually going to give out. He had every inch of it filled with the things he loved. It's supposed to snow tomorrow. I think I may go throw snowballs at billboards in tribute to my friend. RIP buddy.
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