Rich in Tradition

 

Rich Imbriani Retirement Party

If you are lucky, you have at least a few people in your life who linger in your consciousness for decades as mentors, coaches, teachers, or others whom you aspire to make proud with what you have become.

Football changed my life - not just the sport itself, but the approach to sport and life and winning. And I only participated as an athlete for two years - most of that participation being from the sidelines. You might think the tale of a number two high school kicker might not even warrant a footnote to any story worth telling - and in the great history of Cajon athletics you would be correct - but the greater tale is bigger than one athlete. 

Rich Imbriani took over as head varsity football coach at Cajon High School in 1991, my junior year, after a very long and successful tenure by Chuck Pettersen. What a blessing it was to have been on teams led by each of these two men, and reflecting back, Rich's decades as coach and then Athletic Director really was the continuation of a tradition that excellence truly runs deep in the hearts of those who seek it with dedication and serious determination. As a 16-year-old, the lesson was clear that sports were serious business, and we had a responsibility to work, learn and perform. Having worked with and for Rich as a coach in my earliest adult years, the lesson was that we owed our athletes a specific heritage that was to endure through them as they persevered in the goal of learning to win. As an alumnus who has returned nearly every year since graduation to follow Cajon Football, reaching out throughout those years to Imbriani, the realization was that he loved sports, but he truly cared most about all of us as individuals and how we were doing in life.

The best teachers, leaders, and coaches leave a mark. The accomplishments and championships are indicators of what we did, but the instillation of values that enrich life and the expectation of some unique realization of success are the lasting impacts imparted by the great ones. It's not that we as alumni live in a constant state of approval-seeking; we understand we were blessed with a moment in time when someone cared enough to stand up and show us the way, and we recognize a responsibility to measure up to our potential. You don't win for your coach, but you honor him with how you play the game.

Rich Imbriani is one of those leaders, and the world is better for it.

Thanks, Coach. Enjoy your well-earned retirement. I expect to hear great things.

Walk-Off to Heaven

 

Not just another hot summer day in the Inland Empire, I had been invited to a 90th birthday party in San Bernardino by my Little League baseball manager, Mr. Hague. What to get for someone on such an occasion? It is tempting to write that I hadn't known him for nearly four decades, but that wouldn't be quite true. 

Browsing hastily through birthday cards at the store that day, one stood out for some reason. It stated that "Life Doesn't Come with an Instruction Manual." Perhaps contrary to the stationary author's intent, the card quickly gained meaning, and in making my inscription, it all became very clear - life does come with a bounty of instructors! 

Aside from my dad, John Hague coached me in sports for the longest period of time, which was three years at Newmark Little League from age 10 to 12. Don't tell my friends in San Diego, but I was a proud member of the Dodgers - not just that I could pretend to share a team with Steve Sax, Orel Hershiser, and Kirk Gibson, but Mr. Hague had built his own reputation even by the 1980s as a successful and iconic manager for whom it would be an honor to play. When I was picked for this team, it was truly exciting. He wasn't just someone's dad who was there because his kid was; as far as I was concerned, he was a professional, and we were on a mission toward a championship.

Many life lessons from forty years ago are a bit hazy, but Mr. Hague taught us how to take things seriously, even in playing a game. At this age, he was the perfect person to instill in us the idea of expectations. With my first three-year contract in life, we weren't just playing for a few months and out the door; this was a chance to grow from rookie to leader. I'd learn to deal with the defeats of strikeouts and sitting the bench to earning my first home runs and becoming a pitcher.

Off the diamond decades later, I decided to run for public office from my hometown. Having not lived in San Bernardino for quite some time, I sought out people I'd known from my childhood who might still be around. I knocked on Mr. Hague's door, not knowing if he would even remember me - then a 46-year-old - after his nearly fifty years of teams. He did. We chatted as day turned into evening, and I was relieved to have him approvingly shake my hand after asking generally about my politics (please don't hold that against him). One of the difficult things about entering politics is encountering people whom you have admired for a lifetime and hoping they are not suddenly repulsed by where you stand on issues. To my great pleasure, he (and many others) simply remembered the person they always knew, and that was enough.

Two years ago, at his birthday party, I was pleased to see scores of adult men in attendance who used to be Newmark Dodgers - just a drop in the bucket of all the lives he impacted. You see, good coaches guide you on your way and teach you how to be a better athlete, and clearly, a great one is a distinguished leader who has been written into your life for a chapter in an instruction manual from God.

John Hague has now passed on. I hope it is of some comfort to his wife Grace, several children and multiple grandchildren that the man they loved for a lifetime and will miss for decades to come continues to instruct hundreds of former players on at least one very important life lesson - we were indeed expected to step up to earn his respect, and now to be men worthy in our own lives of respect and excellence as we become the guide for others placed in our care and influence. 

Some people play a position in your life for a season, while others - in word, in deed, in expectations - stay with you in the game for a lifetime. And while I really only knew him directly for three years, I'd like to return the favor and say, from those years alone, he really was the kind of man I would fully entrust with my country or a young son.

One final lesson I realize just as I am writing, John Hague was certainly a manager, but he was just as much a player. Every inning of life he was in it, at bat into his 90s. In my book, he walked it off - batting in the winning run at home to finally end the game in the bottom of the ninth - and now gets to celebrate with his Coach above. I think that's how it should be done.

Rest in peace, Mr. Hague.

John Brinck Hague, Sr.

June 7th, 1934 - March 3rd, 2026