Filed under: Uncategorized
By Laura Cannon |Email the author | Hamden Patch
A moment of silence opened the Hamden Fathers’ baseball game last week, the night the Scorpions, a team of 11- and 12-year-olds, learned that their coach, Carlos Gonzalez, had died.
The boys took the field with black armbands on the left sleeves of their light-blue uniforms, while coaches and parents wore black ribbons as a tribute to the 50-year-old Hamden resident who coached in the league for 17 years.
Gonzalez was awaiting a lung transplant when he died at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center on May 30. ”Los,” as his friends and players called him, was diagnosed with lung cancer in May 2009, even though he never smoked.
Over the years Gonzalez had gotten to know many players and their families, and many were introduced to him at the Hamden Fathers Opening Day ceremonies a month before his death.
He was a guest of honor and his daughter, Caitlin, spoke in support of Lungs for Los, a foundation set up to help his family pay their non-medical expenses. Supporters sold T-shirts and wristbands and collected donations throughout the season.
Gonzalez became a coach when his son, Justin, was a young child, and continued to volunteer long after Justin aged out of the league.
“When he first drafted my son,” says Jeff Rowe, “he was the only coach that called and asked to speak to my son – most coaches ask for the parents. He (Gonzalez) welcomed him to the team and told him what would be expected of him.”
Rowe’s son has played for the Scorpions for three years, and says that Gonzalez became “really more of a father figure than a coach” to the team.
The Scorpions consistently finish at the top of the standings in the Hamden Fathers “Majors Gold” league. But even opponents have fond memories of ’Los.
Scott Millea coached against Gonzalez for four years, and described him as “dedicated to the kids he coached, not just with baseball but academically…. A great mentor and role model.”
The coach stayed in touch with many of his former players, said Mary Lord, whose son is now 15 and was the 2011 Rookie of the Year at Hamden Hall.
“We lost a wonderful man,” she said at a Tuesday night “Lungs for ’Los” fundraiser at Eli’s on Whitney. “My son was a good athlete, but Carlos would also talk to him about doing well in school and being a better citizen.”
The restaurant was crowded with friends sharing memories, many of them just returning from Gonzalez’s wake earlier that evening.
Another former player, Matt Chudoba, became best friends with Justin Gonzalez through Carlos Gonzalez’s team and gave a eulogy at the funeral Mass Wednesday at St. Joan of Arc Church.
He was “extremely important in my life, beyond belief,” said Chudoba, who described himself as “Carlos’ second son.”
Matt and Justin, along with several other volunteers, will continued to coach the Scorpions this season.
Speaking from the Gonzalez family home Sunday night, Matt Chudoba said the family was “in shock” because Carlos had been doing well up until a few days before he died. Chudoba had been with the Gonzalez family in Pittsburgh.
Only days before his death New Haven Register reporter Ann DeMatteo wrote of his quest for a lung transplant and efforts to raise the necessary funds for that surgery.
“What was just as hard,” Chudoba said, was coming back to Hamden a few days later. At the apartment the family rented in Pittsburgh, “it wasn’t like we were going back to the memories…. but then (at home), he wasn’t there when we walked in the door.”
At Saint Joan of Arc church Wednesday morning, Chudoba told mourners the day he was drafted by Carlos “forever changed the course of my life,” describing him as “the greatest man I ever got to know.”
Chudoba’s own father died, also of lung cancer, in 2009. But like his father, Chudoba said, “just because you can’t physically see Coach doesn’t mean for a second lung cancer defeated him because it didn’t.”
Gonzalez’s legacy will live on through Hamden Fathers baseball; the Lungs for Los Foundation; and the Family House of Pittsburgh, the organizations his family has suggested for any memorial donations.
He is survived by his wife of 26 years, Cindy Gonzalez; daughter Caitlin and son Justin, as well as his mother Adela Gonzalez of Levittown, New York and sister Lissette Bisso of St. James, New York. He was born in Havana, Cuba in 1961 and was the son of the late Aurelio Gonzalez.
He was, as his “second son” described him, “a coach for everyone.”
“Lungs for Los” to Continue
“Now that ’Los has passed, the nature of the Foundation has changed,” says family friend Emily Unger. They’re now raising money “for other families and individuals that are in the same position.” Donations will go toward helping patients pay for expenses that are not covered by insurance.
For instance, the Gonzalez family had to move to Pittsburgh temporarily for the coach’s medical treatment.
“This would help people relocate,” according to Unger.
At least three more fundraisers are planned: A Fathers Day dinner on Friday, June 24th at the Dunbar Hill firehouse; an Orange Ale House Bar Day on Sunday, July 17th; and a pizza party at BAR in New Haven on Friday September 9th.
More information is at LungsforLos.com.
Filed under: Uncategorized
On behalf of the entire Gonzalez family, I’d like to personally thank all of you for coming here today. My name is Matt Chudoba and you could call me Carlos’s second son. Ever since I was a toddler, I would dream of people I wanted to emulate when I got older. My ambitions started with a trash man – -looking back on it, some ambitions I had! As I grew older, my desire to be an ice cream truck driver took over, but when I saw the zamboni driver at the local hockey rink, oh how I longed to be him!
As I approached my teenage years, I started to understand that I should probably dream a little bigger. Turning on the TV one day, I saw exactly the person my mom and dad were talking about when they told me to be like someone who helps people, cleans up society, and that everyone knows is a role model. He was by far the leader of his team. He made sure that when somebody posed a threat, he confronted them. Most importantly, he never let anyone walk all over him. Yup, in a nutshell, that was Tommy the Green Power Ranger!
All throughout my elementary years, I swore to my parents that one day I would replace Tommy as the next Green Power Ranger. Little did I know that when I was in seventh grade and received a call from a certain person telling me that he was going to be my new baseball coach, this person speaking on the other end was in fact Tommy. As amazing as Tommy was on television, when he came into my life personally and I got to see him and learn from him on a daily basis, I was beyond spoiled.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, the Tommy that I got to know personally for the past eleven years and who became a father-figure in my life was Carlos Gonzalez. And, luckily for my parents, he saved their youngest son from running around the neighborhood in green tights picking up people’s trash and handing out ice cream. On second thought, forget about “luckily for my parents”! Luckily for me! Thank you Carlos!
On a serious note, the day that Carlos called me and informed me he was going to be my new baseball coach forever changed the course of my life. I am so blessed that at the young age of 14, this phone call introduced me to the greatest man I ever got to know. And yet, I almost threw it all away…
When that new baseball coach on the other end of the line informed me that he “drafted so-and-so”, I remember thinking to myself, “Is this guy OK? Dude, we are 14 years old and you’re using the word drafting like the pros do!” Since I was pretty much burnt out from playing baseball, I really wasn’t sure I wanted to play for any coach, let alone a guy who was drafting people!
I ended up missing the first two baseball practices that season and when my father found this out, he made sure I got there early to the third practice of the season. That’s when I shook his hand and met him face-to-face for the first time, my real life Green Power Ranger – yet I still didn’t know it.
Practice was actually pretty fun and I didn’t mind being there. In fact, I returned for the forth practice, never missing a practice or a game the rest of that season. Carlos made baseball so much fun that year that when baseball wasn’t happening, it was the worst part of the day, not being around Carlos or his son, my best friend, Justin. Carlos even allowed me to pitch, something I never did until this year, and I ended up becoming one of the top pitchers in the league. Life was great! We were winning and with each passing day, I was growing closer and closer to Carlos and Justin.
When the season ended, Justin and I continued to hang out. I used to suggest to Justin that we go over his house because it was the best of both worlds for me. I got to hang out with Justin and Carlos! We got so close that when it came time for the next baseball season, I had Babe Ruth coaches calling me and telling me that I needed to go to tryouts. When I told them I didn’t want too and wanted to play for Coach Carlos again, they informed me that there was a pretty significant chance that I wouldn’t be on his team.
Truth be told, I was scared that I wouldn’t be on Carlos’s team again, because after playing for Carlos the previous year, I knew I never wanted to play for any other person. I didn’t care if it was only a microscopic chance that I would be on his team again; it was a chance I was willing to take. When I told Carlos what was said to me, anyone who knows Carlos knows that he has a tendency to go on hilarious, memorable rants – and that’s exactly what he did.
That second season we had together was even more memorable then the first. It’s also the time Mr. Gonzalez , or Carlos, became known as just “Coach” to me. Whether it was on the field or at his house, he was “Coach”. When it got to be the middle of the winter after our second baseball season ended, Justin still was wondering why I was calling him “Coach”. I was 15 now and exhausted my eligibility playing under Coach, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t just my coach on the field. He became my life coach, one who I would go to for any advice or decision I needed help in making. I loved going to Coach for advice because not only was he a great listener, but he didn’t coddle me into telling me things such as “it’ll be alright”. Rather, he always gave comical, but very productive advice that still stays with me to this day.
Think about it: how many times have people said to us “it’ll be alright”? Probably so many times we can’t count. How many times have people given us advice such as, “Well what did you think was going to happen when you waited three weeks to call her and she doesn’t remember who you are?” If you’re wondering how that constitutes as advice, it’s plain and simple: Coach wanted you to be the aggressor. He never wanted you to be passive because that resulted in opportunities passing you by. And if you missed your opportunity, don’t expect him to say those three little words we hear oh so much – “it’ll be alright”. Instead it was, “suck it up and move on. We need you for the next one” – something that is my motto for the team I coach today.
During my freshman year at Notre Dame, a bunch of my friends wanted me to go out for the baseball team. Truth is, if I tried out, I most likely would have made it, but I didn’t care. When I said I never wanted to play for any other coach but Coach ever again, I meant it. Reflecting on this today, it was by far the best decision I ever made because it got me into the world of coaching at the young age of 15, and here I am at 24 still coaching, loving it more and more each year. Coach instilled this passion for coaching in me that would have never came to fruition if it wasn’t for him. In fact, he has taught me so much and shaped my coaching career that Notre Dame offered me their freshman job this past March. I turned it down because the thought of staying away from him all Little League season left butterflies in my stomach. Yet the fact that ND thought that highly of me is a huge reflection on Coach because I am a protégé of his, and everything I have learned has come from him. How ironic that the Notre Dame freshman baseball program twice tried to take me away from my mentor and twice they failed. As great as those opportunities would have been, and the fact that they were opportunities that I have wanted for so long – those opportunities wouldn’t have been as great as the opportunity to be around Coach.
To me, the word coach is the highest title you can give someone. Doctor is scholarly, attorney is flashy, and sir is too common. It’s not a title you can earn because you have completed many years of schooling or because of your gender. It’s the only title you can actually earn by being yourself. When I read the book Tuesday’s With Morrie, Mitch Album anoints Morrie with this title of “Coach”, while Mitch is referred to as “Player”. If you read the book, then you know how integral Morrie was to Mitch’s life. Morrie has lived a long, experienced life and passes his experiences on to Mitch, so that he may learn from them.
If I was to rewrite the book, the only thing I would change would be the title to Tuesday’s With Carlos. It’s so ironic that I came across this book in eighth grade, the same time I met my Coach, and every powerful sentence Albom was writing about Morrie was really me doing the writing about Carlos. Ironically, like Albom, I did major in journalism.
This identical match of Morrie/Mitch and Carlos/Matt is something that has always stuck with me throughout my 11 years getting to know Coach. He helped transform my life into the greatest life it could possibly be. After all, if it wasn’t for him, I was headed for a life of green tights and smelly nights! So Justin, and all my friends sitting here today, that is reason I have referred to him as “coach” for all these years. He has coached me for 11 years on how I can not only be the best person in the world, but how I can become the best coach in the world to others not only in baseball, but in life as well.
In this story full of ironies, the only thing that could hinder Mitch’s ability to physically see his “coach” every day was a terminal illness. The only thing that has hindered my ability to physically see the two greatest men I have ever known, my father and Coach, was also a terminal illness, in both cases lung cancer. Similar to Morrie and my father, just because you can’t physically see Coach doesn’t mean for a second lung cancer defeated him because it didn’t. Nothing, especially his cancer, can take away everything Carlos has brought to his beautiful wife Cindy, stunning daughter Caitlin, the greatest friend a person can ask for, his son Justin, my life, or anyone’s life that Coach has appeared in, whether it was for a few seconds or many years.
The title “Coach” will never mean so much to any other person the way it meant to Los. His ability to be a successful baseball coach, while being an even greater life coach is something that, as hard as I try to emulate, will never be able to. There is a reason that so many of his players, or players he never even coached but just talked to attended the wake yesterday or are in attendance here today. He wasn’t just a Coach for me, but a coach for everyone involved in Hamden Fathers and anyone he encountered away from the game as well.
No matter if you were shy, or outgoing, a captain or the number 12 batter, Coach treated everyone as a treasure. He honestly believed each player he coached or person he met was special. Even if his team blew an eight run lead, struck out seven times in a row, or finished the season with a 1-15 record, he still believed his team was the best. I guess that’s what liking the Mets for 30 years will do to you. After all, there wasn’t anything his Little Leaguers could do that left him scratching his head. The Mets already took care of that!
It’s tough to bring this eulogy to a close because this is only a very, very, very, small fraction of how much Coach has meant to me. I just hope that the next time a player refers to his coach as “Coach”, or turns on the TV and sees a Green Power Ranger, that they understand that the best coach/Power Ranger a player, a person, or a program could possibly ask for is Carlos Gonzalez.
Entrenador, te quiero mucho, mucho mas te lo que tu sabias. Tu eres mi angel y yo
siempre vivire en tu imagen. Nunca podre pagarte lo que hiciste por mi.
