Iconic coach alive and still kicking at 90: ‘Linfield might as well be called Rutschman U’
Photo cutline: Don and Ad Rutschman in front of the McMinnville house that has been home to Ad since 1972
McMINNVILLE
— The mid-week lunch crowd at Golden Valley Brewery is bustling, but few of the
customers seem to notice the sporting royalty in their midst. Then again,
perhaps they are just giving Ad Rutschman some privacy as he dines with sons
Don and Randy while conducting an interview with some guy holding a digital
recorder.
There
are legends at Linfield, and then there is Ad Rutschman, who occupies pole
position on the Wildcats’ Mount Rushmore and is a revered patriarch of the
campus community.
“Linfield
might as well be called ‘Rutschman University,’ ” current Linfield head
football coach Joseph Smith says.
This
Saturday (October 30) is a big day on the Linfield sporting calendar. The
seventh-ranked Wildcats (6-0 overall and 4-0 in Northwest play) entertain rival
George Fox (4-2, 4-0) in a 1:30 p.m. encounter at Maxwell Field. And Rutschman
— who still coaches Linfield’s kickoff return unit — will be honored as he
celebrates his 90th birthday.
It
will be a day of mixed emotions for George Fox head coach Chris Casey, who
played for Rutschman and coached under him at Linfield for nine seasons
(1985-93).
Rutschman
“is the most impactful person I’ve been around in my life besides my parents,”
says Casey, older brother of former Oregon State baseball coach Pat Casey.
There
is little question that Ad is in excellent condition both mentally and
physically for a man of his age.
“He’s
still in great shape,” son Randy says. “I joke with people. They ask, ‘How’s
your dad doing?’ I say, ‘I think I can take him, but he’d hurt me really bad.’
”
“It’s
pretty incredible he’s 90,” says Lewis & Clark head coach Jay Locey, who
coached under Rutschman for five years at Linfield. “I could see him living to
100. He’s a healthy dude, smart and sharp.”
“It
really is hard to believe,” says Smith, who played for Rutschman during his
final three years as the Wildcats’ coach. “Coach is kind of ageless — seems
like he hasn’t aged in the last 20 years. He’s so fit and demanding as a coach
and sharp as can be. It’s awesome to watch him coach still.”
How
does Ad feel about becoming a nonagenarian?
“The
age I spent the most time thinking about was when I turned 50,” he says. “I
remember thinking, ‘God, I’m getting old.’ And now, 90! Man … but I’m feeling
good. I just don’t have the same energy.”
He
has pretty darn good energy, though, I would say. I’d say damn good, except Ad
rarely swears, so I’ve pledged myself to keep it clean in this piece.
Says
Ad with a wink: “A player once told me, ‘I can’t believe how disciplined you
are. I’ve never heard you say a cuss word on the football field. But I did hear
a couple of them over the phone.’ ”
I’ve
known Ad for many years, but not well. I’ve gotten to know him better in recent
years through Oregon State baseball games in which we watched his grandson,
Adley, become the greatest player in Beaver history.
Ad
is likely the most successful small-college coach ever in this state. Through
24 seasons as head football coach at Linfield (1968-91), Rutschman compiled a
record of 182-49-3, including 117-21-2 in league games. His teams won or tied
for 15 league titles and claimed three NAIA national championships. Ad also
served as Linfield’s head baseball coach for 13 years and won one NAIA national
championship. He is the only coach at any level to win college national titles
in both football and baseball and is a member of the NAIA Hall of Fame, the
Oregon Sports Hall of Fame and the College Football Hall of Fame.
Photo cutline: Back
row, Don, Randy, Ross. Front row, Cindy, Joan, Ad and Mary Jo
This
column is intended to pay tribute to Ad through the eyes of many of those who
know him best.
There
is no doubt that he is beloved.
“Coach
is the wisest person and the greatest coach I’ve ever been around,” says Smith,
who played for Rutschman during the final three years of his coaching career.
“I
could not have been around a greater mentor,” says Mike Riley, who served seven
years under Rutschman early in Riley’s long coaching career. “He was the
greatest teacher of technique I’ve ever been around. I’ve never been around a
guy who knew the overall game better.”
“He’s
a godly man, a family man with tremendous values,” Chris Casey says. “You wish
every kid could be coached by Coach Rutschman.”
► ◄
Rutschman
was born in 1931 in Hillsboro in the heart of the Great Depression, two years
before his lone sibling, brother Bob. Ad’s grandfather, Adolph Rutschman (Ad is
Adolph III), ran a dairy farm in rural Laurel, just outside of Hillsboro. His
father, Adolph Jr., worked on the farm before assuming a series of other jobs,
including one with a feed and grain business, then with the Hillsboro School
District as a bus driver, a custodian and later as director of custodians at
the elementary school. Ad’s mother, Evelyn, worked at Bird’s Eye Cannery and
then as a cook at Hillsboro High.
“I
learned a work ethic,” Rutschman says. “I learned that a handshake was a
contract. That you didn’t waste anything. You cleaned your plate. I had one
baseball glove in high school. You took care of it, because you probably
weren’t going to get another one.
“At
one time, my parents had 31 cents to their name, but I can never ever remember
being hungry or being unhappy. We had a good home life. We had a big garden. We
had fruit trees. My mother canned. We always had one cow for milk. We had
chickens and we raised a calf every year to butcher. We had rabbits — I haven’t
eaten a rabbit since I graduated from high school. We took care of ourselves.”
Rutschman
was a star three-sport athlete at Hillsboro High, 5-foot-9 and 155 pounds as a
senior on his way to 185 by the time he finished college. He played halfback
and defensive back in football, guard in basketball and second base in
baseball, earning nine letters in the three sports.
Photo
cutline: Memorabilia from Ad’s storied coaching career
Oregon
State coach Kip Taylor offered a football scholarship, but Rutschman chose
Linfield for a couple of reasons. Part of it was he wanted to play multiple
sports. He was also looking ahead to a career in coaching.
“I
had taken an entrance test in high school to determine what my career interests
were,” he says. “It showed that I had outdoor interests. Teaching and coaching
fit into that category, but also wildlife management. I was looking at that,
and Oregon State would have been the place. But if you majored in wildlife
management there, you had to take chemistry. I had not taken chemistry (in high
school) and figured that was not the right time to start.”
Taylor
wanted Rutschman to participate in spring football but said he would release
him on game days to play baseball. Ad figured he would have no time to practice
baseball and would be out of sorts with his teammates on the diamond.
“That’s
what steered me to Linfield, where I could play (multiple) sports,” he says.
Rutschman
had the good fortune to play for two legendary coaches there — Paul Durham in
football and Roy Helser in baseball. In 20 years, Durham’s teams went
122-51-10. He won NAIA Coach of the Year in 1962 and started Linfield on a
record streak of 65 consecutive winning seasons that continues today. In 21
years, Helser coached the Wildcats to 14 league titles and, in 1966, won the
NAIA national championship. Linfield’s field is named in his honor.
Rutschman
was a fullback — he would rush for 3,390 yards in his four seasons — and
defensive back in football, a guard in basketball (Durham and Helser were
“co-coaches” in that sport) and a center fielder in baseball at Linfield. Ad
augmented the financial aid he received with a series of odd jobs that helped him
establish a work ethic that never left him.
Photo
cutline: Plaques decorate the den at Ad’s McMinnville home
“My
first two years year, I had a job peeling potatoes at Hudson’s Cafe in
McMinnville,” he says. “I got my lunch paid for that way. I’d jog downtown,
peel potatoes and have lunch, jog back, go to class, go to practice. After
(Hudson’s) closed, I scrubbed, waxed and buffed the floors and got my dinner
paid for. I also had a window-washing job at two banks for a couple of extra
bucks, and I had a job on campus cleaning the dressing room at the (football)
stadium.”
By
the time he began his junior year, he was a married man. Ad and Joan Mason
began dating the summer after their sophomore years in high school.
“You
didn’t let us date until we were juniors,” Randy intervenes when Ad tells me
that.
“There
was a reason for that,” Ad quips quickly.
“We
dated for four years before getting married,” he continues. “She didn’t go to
college. Her parents didn’t have enough money to send her. She was a devout Catholic.
Her goal was to be a nun. When we got married, she wanted to have 12 kids.”
They
were married at 21, the summer after Ad’s sophomore year at Linfield. Rutschman
was about to begin a run of five straight summers playing the Drain Black Sox,
a semi-pro team in a small southern Oregon logging town that would win the
National Baseball Congress championship in 1958.
“I
knew I’d be down there for three months,” Ad says, “and I’m thinking, ‘I’m not
going to see her for three months.’ What the heck — you want to get married?
“We
got married on a Saturday at a Catholic Church in Beaverton. Hopped in a car,
drove to Coos Bay, played a single game that night and a double-header the next
day. Then I went to work in the woods. I wouldn’t advise that for newlyweds.”
The
“Oregon Sawdust League” teams were sponsored by lumber mills, offering a chance
for the players to earn plenty of extra money.
“I
got paid $10 a ballgame, and we played four games a week — a non-league game on
Wednesday, a league game on Saturday and a double-header on Sunday,” Rutschman
says. During the week, it was on to an eight-hour-a-day job setting chokers and
pulling green chain.
“That
was the best physical shape I’ve been in my life, going up and down the hills,
but it affected my hitting,” he says. “My muscles were really tight. I was
always a little leery of weight-lifting with baseball.”
Rutschman
cleared $100 a week, plus the $40 for playing baseball, a tidy amount in the
early ‘50s. Joan also made $100 a week as a secretary in the lumber company
office. There were also some perks — a gas fill-up for their car every week, a
Sunday night dinner at a local steakhouse for the family.
The
Rutschmans were making $2,880 for the three months in Drain.
“I
took my first job at Hillsboro High in 1954,” Ad says. “My salary for the whole
year was $3,750, which included coaching two sports.”
Rutschman
was chosen in the 28th round of the 1954 NFL draft by the Detroit Lions (he was
listed as “Dolph Rutschman”), and he says he signed a contract. The money in
those years in the NFL, however, was minimal.
“I
never reported to camp,” he says. “I was married and we already had Don. I
thought, ‘Is this the life for a family?’ Besides, they didn’t wear facemasks
in those days. I probably wouldn’t have any teeth today.”
Rutschman
spent 14 years at Hillsboro, and wound up as head coach in football for 10
years and baseball for 13. He won three state titles in baseball and one in
football and stayed until Linfield beckoned in 1968.
“I
was happy at Hillsboro,” Ad says. “I wasn’t looking to move. Durham and Helser
recruited me.
I
took a one-third cut in pay (in taking the Linfield job). I was making $15,000
a year at Hillsboro and my starting salary at Linfield was $10,500. The only
reason I could do it was we had five kids who could get free tuition at
Linfield. We were going to have at least one kid in college for 14 straight
years. Our kids never left college with a loan.”
Rutschman
nearly left Linfield to return to Hillsboro before his second year at Linfield.
“The
only guys I had coaching with me that first year were grad assistants,” he
says. “I went to the school president (Gordon Bjork) and said I had to have
help. He said, ‘We can’t do it.’ ”
The
Hillsboro High principal, meanwhile, was putting on a full-court press. He
offered Rutschman his old salary plus more.
“He
had six people who would give me $1,000 tax-free a year apiece as long as I
coached football at Hillsboro,” he says. “I could also serve as recreation
director for the city of Hillsboro. It was an unbelievable offer. I pretty much
agreed to it.”
Finally,
Bjork agreed to let Rutschman hire a full-time assistant, and he stayed on.
During
his time at Linfield, Rutschman received plenty of offers to move on. Ad says
Rich Brooks offered him the offensive coordinator job at Oregon in 1983. Ad
turned it down, and Brooks hired Bob Toledo.
“My
problem was, I was never interested in leaving the Northwest,” Rutschman says.
“I knew if Rich had great success, he was going to get offered a job elsewhere,
and the odds of it being outside the Northwest were pretty high. If he didn’t
have success, we’d all get fired and I would be looking for a job at a high
school.”
Through
the years, he says he had feelers for assistant jobs at Michigan, California,
Oregon State and Air Force. He says he was offered the head job at Oregon Tech
three times and at Western Oregon once. When Pokey Allen left Portland State
for Boise State after the 1992 season, Ad says he was offered to succeed him
with the Vikings.
“If
I’d taken any of those jobs, my retirement (with PERS) would have been
amazingly different,” he says. “But I had roots established at Linfield and had
no desire to leave.
“I’ve
always had a rule: Be careful on trying to improve on happy. If you’re happy
with what you’re doing, be careful about trying to be happier.”
The
Rutschmans never reached Joan’s goal of a dozen children, but shortly after
they wed they embarked on a baby-every-two-years plan with Don (now 68), Cindy,
(66), Ross (64), Randy (62) and Mary Jo (60). They also had Don’s twin, Ron,
who died of pneumonia at age six weeks.
“Toughest
thing I ever dealt with,” Ad says.
(All
of the Rutschman kids have stayed close to home. Don and Cindy live in
McMinnville. Ross is in Newberg, Randy in Sherwood and Mary Jo in Dallas.)
The
boys were all excellent multi-sport athletes at McMinnville High. All three
were chosen to play in the State-Metro baseball series after their senior
seasons at Mac High.
“There
are only two families in the state who have had three (boys) play in that
series — the Rutschmans and the Reynolds (Donny, Larry and Harold) from
Corvallis,” Don says. “And Dad coached in it several times while at Hillsboro.”
Don
was named all-league in both football and baseball at Linfield, but Don and
Randy say Ross was the best natural athlete growing up.
“No
question Ross was the quickest,” Ad says. “He’d have been a really good
wingback for me in college. He wasn’t a basketball player, but he was a
game-breaker in football. He was a punter at Linfield but had ACL knee surgery
and played only one year of football for us.”
Rutschman’s
schedule was jam-packed at Linfield. He taught three classes while also serving
as athletic director, football coach and, for many years, also baseball coach.
That meant there was too little family time.
“Dad
never coached one of our teams growing up,” Randy says. “The coaching we got
from him would be on the side. He’d sneak out when he could to watch our games.
My first Little League game, I watched nine straight strikes go by with a smile
on my face. I didn’t know any better. Dad told my brothers, ‘Tomorrow, you’re
out there working with him.’
“In
high school, when I was struggling and wasn’t feeling good about my hitting,
I’d say, ‘Dad, I need help.’ He and Mom would come home from lunch. He had the
whiffle ball machine out and Mom fed balls while he worked with me.”
I
ask Don if he felt at times that Ad was an absentee father.
“Dad
was also coaching an American Legion team and recruiting (for football) in the
summer,” Don says. “He came to as many games as he could when we were growing
up, but it was mainly my mom. I wouldn’t call it absentee, but he wasn’t around
as much as a lot of dads.
“In
the summertimes while he was at Hillsboro, he would hold a Little League camp.
That’s the only time I got coaching from him. I remember hitting whiffle balls
and him working with me on my pitching.”
Ad
did coach each of the boys for four years in baseball at Linfield. They didn’t
get preferential treatment.
“I
really enjoyed coaching them,” he says. “You tend to either favor your sons or
make it tougher on them — and I wasn’t going to favor them. It was probably
unfair to them.”
Joan
was the stabilizing force with the children at home.
“Mom
did most of the work in terms of raising us, but when ‘The Godfather’ came in,
that took hold,” Randy says. “He was pretty much the same guy on the (sports)
field as he was at home. Everything had a progression — cleaning your room,
washing the car. Everything Dad did was methodical. I was a little more like my
mom. I’d just jump into things and try to get them done. Dad would analyze
things for a bit and strategize.
“They
were a great team because of it. She would kick butt on stuff. She could get 12
things done in an hour and my dad two things, but he’d have his done to
perfection. Mom was able to understand things that were really difficult, like
working through financials. My dad would simplify things for himself, which was
part of the reason he was such a good coach. He could make the complicated
simple.
“Everything
was methodical. ‘You wash the car top down. You mow the lawn outside in.’ My
mom and I would joke about it. I was painting the house one time in college and
he was saying, ‘Let me show you how to do that.’ My mom shows up with a beer on
a tray and says, ‘You’re going to need this, Randy.’ ”
Don
felt both of his parents were fairly strict.
“There
was some discipline within the house,” he says. ”Mom was as tight and as
disciplined as my dad, but there were also times when they were fun. There was
a lot of kiss, kick, kiss, kick — positive reinforcement and then get your legs
pulled out on you. That was an every-day deal.
“Dad
was aware of what was happening with us grade-wise. His attitude was, control
what you can control. You can control your attitude, your behavior. If either
one of those things are minimized at all, you were going to hear from him.
There was no excuse for not hustling or having a poor attitude.
“Dad
was a very hard-working guy. He worked long hours. He was a grinder. If we
helped him build a fence around the yard, it was a slow, meticulously detailed
process. We’d say, ‘Let’s just get the boards up; if one is off by a quarter of
an inch, no big deal.’ He’d say, ’No, get the level out and do it right.’ He
was the same way as a coach.”
Don
was the only son to play four years of both college football and baseball for
Ad.
“It
was nothing unusual for him to hold a 2 1/2-to-3-hour practice in both sports,”
Don says. “Practice was supposed to be over at 6 so we could get to dining hall
before it closed at 7. Sometimes he’d go late and tell us, ‘Fellas, tonight you
might have to run to get there on time.’ ”
Once
Ad became Linfield’s athletic director in 1971, Joan became his office manager
and stayed there until he retired from the post in 1996. She also ran the
ticket booth on game days.
“When
we made baseball road trips, my mom would sometimes make sandwiches and pack
apples and candy bars for 25 players and coaches because the budget was
lacking,” Don says.
“She
was the best PR person the college has ever had,” Ad says. “The kids referred
to her as ‘Mama Cat.’ She was a surrogate mother for a lot of kids.”
“She
was like a second mother to me,” Chris says. “Joan was beloved. She and Coach
Rutschman were a great team.”
“Joan
was very protective of Ad, too — a right arm to the man,” Jay Locey says.
“She
never sat in the grandstands at football games,” Don says. “After she was done
selling tickets, she’d either go home and listen to it on the radio. Sometimes,
she’d watch the game from inside the car that was parked close to the field.
I’m not sure how many road games she went to. I do know she didn’t want to hear
any garbage from the stands.”
The
Rutschmans were married 64 years until her death in 2016. Ad lives alone in the
McMinnville house they bought in 1972.
Photo
cutline: A memorial tribute to Ad’s wife of 64 years, Joan, sits in his living
room
“I
don’t know how I could have ever found a better wife, a better mother, a better
person,” Ad says. “I’ve never heard one person complain about her.”
The
Rutschman home remains largely unchanged in the five years since Joan’s
passing. The living room still bears photos of her and notes written by friends
and delivered at her memorial service. Ad can’t bear to take them down.
Photo
cutline: Letters from friends of Joan Rutschman after her passing
► ◄
Beginning
in 1974, Rutschman coached games from the press box — unusual for a football
coach of any era. He did that for the rest of his career.
“I
caught pneumonia and the doctors advised me to stay home,” Ad says. “I talked
them into letting me coach, but the only way was to be up in the press box,
away from everybody. I found out I had a heck of a lot better view up there.
The disadvantage was I didn’t have the face-to-face communication I would have
on the sidelines. But I wasn’t opposed to having them put somebody on the
phones if I needed to get a point across.”
Rutschman
was a fierce competitor who was proud of the championships he won.
Photo
cutline: Game balls and other mementos in Ad’s office
“But
I never put an emphasis on that,” he says. “I emphasized, ‘Do your best on the
next play, and the next play, and the next play. If we have 11 guys doing that
on every play, we’ll be OK.’
“My
formula for winning was people, preparation, performance. It’s like a
successful marriage. It’s pretty simple. Find the right person and be the right
person. If you’re an employer, hire the right employees and be the right
employer. If you’re a football coach, find the right assistants and players and
be the right coach. I tried to encourage the kids this way: Forget about being
the best. Just be the best you. Can you improve your work ethic? If you can do
it, you become a better you.”
Deportment
was perhaps the most important criteria Rutschman demanded from his players.
“When
our teams went out to eat, I always told the kids, ‘I want to hear a lot of
please and thank yous,’ ” he says. “When we left the football field, I’d have
them pick up trash on the way out. If we stayed in a hotel, it was important to
leave it in better shape than when we came. I expected to get a phone call from
the motel manager, saying, ‘You’re the best-behaved team that ever stayed
here.’ ”
For
sure, it was a team with the biggest numbers.
“We’d
bus on the day of a road game so we could take as many players as we wanted
to,” Mike Riley says. “We’d travel with at least 100. We had about 150 football
players at a school with 1,100 students and very few full-time coaches.”
“I’m
not so sure we didn’t play a part in saving the college early on,” Rutschman
says. “(Department heads) must have had a dozen meetings over what was called
‘Target 1,200.’ The question was, ‘How can we increase to that many students?’
Every August, the admissions director would call and ask, ‘Have you got any
kids you can get for us?’ ”
In
1991, Rutschman retired from coaching at age 60.
“I
got burned out,” he says. “I was tired. But I wasn’t ready to fully retire
yet.”
Rutschman
served five more years as Linfield’s athletic director until 1996 — the year
Locey became the Wildcats’ head coach. One day soon after Locey was promoted,
Rutschman got a phone call from him.
“He
wanted me to become a full-time assistant,” Rutschman says, adding with a
smile, ‘I said, ‘Jay, if I’m going to be full-time, I’m going to be the head
coach.’
“He
said, we’re having trouble with the kickoff return. Could you help out there?”
Rutschman
is now in his 25th season coaching Linfield’s kickoff return unit.
“I’ve
enjoyed it,” he says. “If you don’t use it, you lose it. This keeps my mind
going. I get to look at film and be around the coaches over there. I enjoy the
association and I enjoy seeing kids improve.”
Rutschman
doesn’t coach from the sidelines on Saturdays. He watches home games from the
stands and listens to road games on the radio.
“I
don’t want to stand for three hours,” he says. “I go up high (in the stands) so
no one can sit behind me, where I can watch the game and not get bothered.”
If
that sounds grumpy, it’s misleading. Those close to Rutschman see another side
of him.
“I
enjoy a good laugh,” he says. “It makes me feel good.”
“Coach
has a tremendous sense of humor,” Joseph Smith says. “That’s something a lot of
people don’t get to see. He’s very witty. He’s a tremendous story-teller and
really fun to be around.”
“He’s
kind of a prankster,” Jay Locey says. “There are a few stories about jokes he
pulled on me.”
One
night when Locey was working late, he smoked a cigar in his office. The next
day, Locey knew he’d made a mistake.
“There
was so much smoke,” Locey says. “But (athletic director) Scott Carnahan opens
windows and turns on the fans and I’m figuring we got it all aired out.”
Moments
later, Rutschman enters his office.
Says
Locey: “Rutsch is talking to a secretary, and he says, ‘Is that smoke I smell?
It’s that night-time janitor. We’re going to have to get rid of that guy.’ I’m
thinking, ‘Oh crap.’ I go into his office and sheepishly tell him I was the one
who smoked the cigar. He just starts laughing. Carnahan had filled him in. He
knew he’d gotten me.”
Several
times through the years, Rutschman would tell a player, “I’ll race you in a
10-yard sprint for a milkshake.”
Locey:
“If he lost, he’d say, ‘You owe me a milkshake. I didn’t say I had to win.’ ”
Randy
Rutschman remembers a prank his father played on one of Randy’s teammates, Gene
Lilly.
“Gene
was all fired up about going fishing and couldn’t stop talking about his secret
fishing spot,” Randy says. “He got it around that we should get the whole team
to go fishing together. Dad found out about it and had the players take a vote.
Everybody except Gene voted that we shouldn’t go.”
Lilly
was crestfallen until Ad let him in on the gag.
Three
of Rutschman’s Linfield players have made the NFL — Randy Marshall (defensive
end, two years, Atlanta Falcons), Jim Massey (defensive back, two years, New
England Patriots) and Paul Dombroski (defensive back, six years, Tampa Bay, New
England and Kansas City). Several others played in the Canadian Football
League.
Rutschman’s
coaching tree is extensive. He has had 18 former coaches of players become head
college coaches. More than 120 have become head high school coaches.
“Every
single one of us who played for or coached with him uses his philosophies,”
Chris Casey says. “It’s almost a coaching tree of clones. We share all these
similarities because of Coach Rutschman. He’s the straw who stirred the drink.”
► ◄
Mike
Riley was a grad assistant at Whitworth when a faculty position and defensive
coordinator job opened at Linfield in 1976. Riley, two years removed from his
senior year as a defensive back under Bear Bryant at Alabama, applied.
“I
pulled out my biggest trump card for Coach Rutschman,” says Riley, now retired
and living in Corvallis. “Coach Bryant called him for me.”
Riley
spent seven years in McMinnville in the first job of a storied four-decade-plus
career that included 14 years as Oregon State’s head coach and three years as
head coach of the San Diego Chargers. Linfield won the NAIA Division II
championship in 1982, his final season at the school.
“Being
in that kind of environment was the most fortunate thing in the world for me,”
Riley says. “I have such great respect for Ad and the program and the way he
carried himself. He was a coach’s coach; he was a player’s coach.
“The
main focus was truly about teaching. Ad always said we had the best classroom
on campus, and he lived it. He made you prepare to teach and he demanded good
coaching. If he didn’t like something he saw clear down on the other end of the
field, he’d yell, ‘Coach!’ “ And he’d come down and correct the situation. He
knew it all. He could have coached any position.”
Riley
says though his title was defensive coordinator, “for my first three years, he
coordinated both the offense and defense from up in the press box. He gave you
more responsibility as you gained his trust.”
The
summer after Riley’s third season, he figured it was time.
“I
had worked on a handwritten notebook about my defensive philosophy,” he says.
“One day, I presented it to Ad and asked him what he thought about it. He
looked it over and finally said, ‘OK, go ahead, you’re ready,’ and that’s when
I started calling the defense.”
“That’s
pretty accurate,” Rutschman says. “Same thing with Jay (Locey) when he became
the defensive coordinator after Mike left. I’d meet with him every morning. I’d
already looked at the film and had my own ideas. We’d talk about it. If I had
some concerns about it, we’d talk longer.”
Rutschman
took a different approach than most head coaches.
“In
football, there are a ton of plays,” Riley says. “So many coaches focus on what
to do. Ad focused on the how to do it. He taught in logical terms to both
coaches and players. His teams were prepared at the highest level for games. It
was pretty amazing. He didn’t miss anything. It was great to be around that
kind of teaching and that kind of program.
“It
was built on hard work. We practiced for three hours — even on Friday, the day
before the game — and nobody blinked. If a coach tried that now, they’d call
you crazy. We were all about the preparation and the teaching.”
Riley
served as junior varsity baseball coach for all seven years under Rutschman,
who doubled as varsity baseball coach during that time. Riley was also a
professor in the physical education department and taught classes such as
weight-lifting, racquetball and first aid.
“It
was really good for me,” he says. “I’d never been busier in my life. For three
years I was the only full-time guy in the office. I did most of the recruiting.
I’ve never been busier, but I’ve never been happier.
“To
experience that at a such young age beginning the formation of a career — it
couldn’t have been any better for me. I’ve often thought about it, that I could
have seen staying at Linfield and making it a career there. (Wife) Dee and I
were totally happy. I was the happiest guy alive. It was like I had died and
gone to heaven. I loved every minute of it. It was awesome to have that job. I
couldn’t have picked a better person to learn from.
“Ad
is a tremendous person — a great example for everybody around him. He truly
lived what he preached. He cared about people. The players admired the work he
did, but really liked him, too. He was very fair. He believes hard work was the
key ingredient to success, and he lived that. We all marveled at his character
and work ethic and all the things about him.”
Riley
left in 1983 to become defensive coordinator for the CFL Winnipeg Blue Bombers,
then took over for head coach Cal Murphy and won a pair of Grey Cups as head
coach there.
When
he lists the coaches he worked for who have served as mentors, Riley includes
Rutschman alongside Murphy, Hugh Campbell (at Whitworth) and John Robinson (at
Southern Cal).
“Every
one of those guys had a quality about them that separated them, that made them
who they were,” Riley says. “Hugh was the best people person I’ve ever seen. He
had a feel for how people were doing, how they were feeling — an awareness
about him that was special.
“Ad
was the greatest teacher of sports technique. John was a tremendous advocate
for players and also a really good football guy. He was fun to talk to about
football, and he loved the running game. Cal was very much an innovator and
knew how to put an organization together.
“I’m
so thankful for the people I worked for. Starting out with Ad as the ultimate
teacher made me consider that in everything we did through the rest of my
career.”
► ◄
Jay
Locey was Rutschman’s defensive coordinator during his final nine years as
Linfield’s coach, helping coach the Wildcats to a pair of NAIA national titles.
Locey then served as head coach at Linfield from 1996-2005, winning an NCAA
Division III crown in 2004.
Now
in his seventh season as head coach at Lewis & Clark, Locey says he
considers Rutschman a “father figure.”
“He’s
winsome, positive, upbeat — a can-do kind of guy,” Locey says. “He raises
everybody’s level. He has high expectations, but he is really good with human
skills.
“He
is wise, well-respected, a principle-centered guy. He very much cares about
people. As a coach, he developed people first and said winning will take care
of itself. We all tried to emulate him. He is as close to another Johnny Wooden
as I’ve met.”
Though
Rutschman never met Wooden, he considers the former UCLA basketball coach a
role model.
“If
there was any one person who maybe had the biggest influence, though, it was
(ex-Ohio State football coach) Woody Hayes,” Ad says. “I once attended a clinic
at a national convention. I was surprised to find Woody in a room where high
school coaches were speaking — and he was asking a bunch of questions. I’m
thinking, ‘That guy is willing to learn from anybody.’ That impressed me.”
Rutschman
once taught a class at Linfield entitled “The organization and administration
of physical education and athletics.”
“I
wish I’d have taken it,” Locey says. “He could have written a book about that.
Kids who took the class will tell you they still use the same principles to
lead a team or an athletic department. “He changes lives. He really believes in
taking care of people’s needs and getting them to a point where they feel good
about themselves and can take off. He takes some concepts and simplifies them
and makes them applicable.
“That’s
the way he was in football. You always believed you had a really good game
plan, because he forced you to think it and re-think it. He was not as
concerned about athletic ability as much as putting kids in the right spots. He
demanded the right stuff, and you respected the heck out of him.”
► ◄
Chris
Casey played strong safety for Rutschman, then coached defense with Locey under
Ad for nine years (1985-94) at Linfield.
“I’ve
never known one person who played or coached with him who ever said a bad thing
about Coach Rutschman,” says Casey, who has been head coach at George Fox since
2013. “There is no person in the state of Oregon’s sports history who has
impacted more people. He interjected teaching life lessons in everything he did.
“He
had tremendous humility — he has no ego at all — and a great combination of
being able to motivate people along with a tremendous work ethic. He was always
a great example for his players and coaches. You respected him because he cared
about you as a person.
“He
was brilliant as a coach. He made a science out of coaching football. You talk
about fundamentals, about how to do everything in the game of football —
there’s nobody better.”
Casey
says he has never met someone more observant than Rutschman. He recalls
traveling with Ad, Locey and Ed Langsdorf in a van to a coaching convention in
San Diego in which Rutschman was to be honored as NAIA National Coach of the
Year.
“We’re
driving along and he says, ‘Did you see that fox in that tree?’ ” Casey says.
“He wasn’t kidding. He notices everything. He studies everything. He’s always
trying to learn something. The guy is immersed with trying to learn as much as
he can about whatever he can.”
Casey
rattled off Rutschman’s coaching principles: Work ethic. Attitude. Being able
to get along with people. Being a team player. Handling adversity.
“I
try to do those things all the time,” Casey says. “That’s what he taught me. He
lives that way. It’s routine for him.”
Casey
says he talks with Rutschman about twice a month.
“You
cannot talk to the guy without him asking, ‘What have you learned lately?’ “
Casey says. “He is obsessed with being the best he can be in life.”
► ◄
Joseph
Smith played cornerback at Linfield from 1989-92, the first three years during
Rutschman’s final three years as coach. Smith was an assistant coach at
Linfield for 13 years, including seven years as defensive coordinator
(1999-2005). Now in his 15th season as the school’s head coach. Smith carries a
career record of 133-26 (90-6 in Northwest Conference action, including 76-2
since 2009) into Saturday’s matchup with George Fox.
“I
played for him at the end of his career,” Smith says. “My gut tells me I got
the slightly gentler, kinder Coach Rutschman than the guys got in the 70s. He
is a very demanding person. What I loved about him the most was his consistency
and the high standards he set for everyone. It was more than just football that
way. He cared about every one of his players. He had good relationships with
them, but also had very high standards for them.
“What
I enjoyed most as a player was him holding his coaching staff accountable. He
knew everything about every position and was a true master teaching the
techniques, but from a strategy standpoint. He also knew the game so well and
broke it down at such an incredible level, it gave us an advantage.”
Smith
has become a fishing partner with Rutschman during the offseason. They catch
some fish, but mostly they shoot the breeze.
“He
is interested in people,” Smith says. “He listens to you. He digests what you
say and has a conversation. It’s really never about him. In today’s world,
people always seem to be about themselves. That’s the not way it is with Coach.
It’s about you and your life, and that’s very refreshing.”
► ◄
Rutschman
has a pretty good life at 90. He packs 207 pounds on his 5-9 frame, 20 pounds
over his playing weight at Linfield, but he carries it well. He sometimes goes
on walks but says he has not been diligent with exercise.
“I
have a goal, but don’t meet it every day,” he says. “I have a hearth on my
fireplace that’s 16 inches high. My goal is to do six squats a day to make sure
I can always get off of the toilet. I have some stretch things and a set of
weights at home, but I don’t use them very often.”
Rutschman
does much of his own yard work. He has six apple trees and one pear tree and
raises marionberries, raspberries and blueberries in his backyard. Don, his
wife Judy and Cindy help him with a vegetable garden.
“He
gardens the way he coaches,” Locey says. “He’s very system-oriented.”
Rutschman
mowed his lawn for many years.
“He
came up with an excuse about a year ago that he had sore ribs,” Don cracks. “I
took over and haven’t heard that they’ve gotten better yet.”
Rutschman
often spends Monday nights playing blackjack and video poker at Spirit Mountain
Casino.
“One
time, he won a jackpot and the reader board says, ‘Congratulations Ad
Rutschman, our $1,500 winner,’ ” Don says, chuckling. “Dad tells them, ‘Please
take that off. I don’t want my name up there.’ He has an image to protect, you
know.”
Daughters
Cindy and Mary Jo have coffee regularly with their father.
“Most
of the time, it’s five times a week,” Ad says. “They are special people.”
Then,
jabbing back at his oldest son: “Don didn’t mow the lawn last week, and Cindy
came over and did it.”
Ad,
Don and Randy all own vacation homes at Pacific City. This past week, they were
joined by Adley — Randy’s son — for some crabbing at Pacific City.
“It’s
a fun family deal,” Ad says. “A great adventure.”
Family
is important to Ad. He enjoys his 14 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
“I’ve
always been lucky to have great people around me — family and friends,” he
says.
That
goes both ways. So many feel it is their good fortune to have crossed paths with
Ad Rutschman.
“What
an unbelievable person,” Casey says. “I love the man.”
#
....
Kerry
Eggers
PO
Box 6864
Portland,
OR 97228
Kerry
Eggers: The Dean of Portland Sports.
Kerry
Eggers has been writing sports for Portland newspapers since 1975. He worked
for the Oregon Journal from 1975-82, at The Oregonian from 1982-2000 and at the
Portland Tribune from 2001-2020. Eggers is a six-time the National Sports Media
Association’s Oregon Sportswriter of the Year, winning in 1981, 1997, 2000,
2003, 2011 and 2018.
Eggers
is the oldest of three sons to John Eggers, who served as sports information
director at Oregon State from 1952-80. John’s publicity campaign helped OSU
quarterback Terry Baker win the Heisman Trophy Award in 1962, making him the
first recipient on the West Coast.
Kerry
attended Corvallis High School, graduating in 1971. He was an all-league
defensive end on a Spartan team that won the state AAA football championship
during his senior season in 1970. Eggers was a member of the same graduating
class and a teammate on the school’s varsity football and basketball teams with
the likes of Mike Riley, Donny Reynolds, Gary Beck and Jerry Hackenbruck.
Eggers
graduated from Oregon State with honors in 1975 and was a member of Blue Key,
the senior men’s honorary. He served as sports editor, managing editor and
editor of the school newspaper, The Daily Barometer.
Through
his career, Eggers covered a variety of major events, including two Summer
Olympic Games, four Super Bowls, a World Series, two major-league All-Star
Games, five College World Series, two national championship football games,
three Davis Cup ties, a golf U.S. Open, a Pro Bowl, six track and field Olympic
trials and many NBA Finals and NBA All-Star games.
Eggers
is past president of Track & Field Writers of America and recipient of the
Jesse Abrahamson Award as the nation’s top track and field writer. In 2014, he
was honored with the “DNA Award” — recognizing “extraordinary passion and
dedication to sport in Oregon” — at the Oregon Sports Awards.
He
has written eight books: Blazers Profiles (1991), Against the World (1993, with
co-author Dwight Jaynes), Wherever You May Be: The Bill Schonely Story (1999),
Clyde “The Glide” Drexler: My Life in Basketball (2004), Oregon State
University Football Vault (2009), The Civil War Rivalry: Oregon vs. Oregon
State (2014) and Jail Blazers: How the Portland Trail Blazers Became the Bad
Boys of Basketball (2018). His latest book, “Overcoming the Odds: How Jerome
Kersey Blazed a Trail from Virginia to the NBA” — will be released in late
September 2021. You can pre-order the book here:
https://www.kerryeggers.com/store/p/jerome-kersey-overcoming-the-odds
