(Good morning. On behalf of the Gorski family, I want to thank you for being here today. You are all invited afterward to a reception at their home at 36 Valley Ridge Road.)
TED Gorski’s Eulogy by Tommy Roberts
“Ted liked to talk. And I don’t mean talk. He took talking to a whole other level: Ted Talk. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.” Jim Bayless
I first encountered Ted (I say encounter because it was much more of an event than just simply meeting someone for the first time) when I was ten years old on the way to play a tennis tournament in Austin. We were driving down with the Lowden family who picked me up first, then Ted. Three long-winded hours later, we arrived at Caswell Tennis Center. As we walked in to see the draw, I pulled Mary aside and asked, “Are you aware that this Ted guy never quit talking the whole three hours.” She smiled back “Of course, why do you think we put you next to him in the back seat?” Welcome to traveling with Ted. The ride back home was more of the same: three straight hours of Ted Talk. And here is the amazing thing: he never repeated one of his stories. That trip left quite a first impression of Ted Talk on a 10-year-old.
Ted’s tennis career began by hitting the backboard at the Monticello Park courts which were red clay back then. From there, he worked his way to practicing at Rivercrest by rolling and sweeping the rubico clay courts. When he finished pro-Warren McMillan allowed Ted to practice before school. So, every morning after throwing his paper route, Ted would ride his bike to Rivercrest, roll the courts, then practice for an hour before school. Determination, perseverance, grit, commitment: whatever you want to call it, Ted had it.
He was so determined to be a player that he would take the bus when he couldn’t get a ride to tournaments. One favorite story: after playing the finals of the Buccaneer Days tournament in Corpus, which finished in the evening, Ted rode the bus all night back to Fort Worth so that he would be there to throw his paper route and roll the courts at Rivercrest the next morning. That’s commitment.
Ted had a little Jack Kerouac in him. He was constantly “On the Road,” hitchhiking back and forth to Austin during college. He kept handy in his suitcase a sign with Austin on the front and Fort Worth on the back. It was a lot faster to hitchhike than to ride the bus, and Ted was never one to waste time.
Jim will delve into Ted’s tennis accolades at UT, so let’s jump forward to Ted’s post-UT life. After law school and fearful of being drafted into the Vietnam War, Ted decided to join the Coast Guard, or the “Coasties,” as Ted called it. Now this was an interesting choice. Ted had received his draft notice to report to the Army as he awaited word from the Coasties. At the last-minute word came that he had been accepted into the Coasties. A decision had to be made: “It was a no-brainer,” as Ted was fond of saying about a lot of things, the front line in Vietnam or the bright lights and big cities while trolling the New England coastline. Ted chose the Coasties, which seemed a little strange to his family since this was a guy who could get seasick in the bathtub or sit on a peer just looking at the ocean. One of his first duties was night patrol assuring the ship stayed on its proper course between red and green buoys. One little problem, Ted was color-blind. After reporting to his superiors that there were no red or blue buoys, they were all white, Ted found himself on a new assignment: looking for strange and unusual happenings along the coast. Well, Ted was getting a little bored with this new assignment until he reported that there were two Russian spies waterskiing behind an outboard motorboat on the ocean in the middle of the night. That led to assignment number three, some random/harmless job on deck where Ted could be kept under a watchful eye for the rest of his Coasties career.
Ted and Tina met at a deb party when she was 20, and he was 26. I think Bobby Brown had something to do with it. Ted was working at the DA’s office and teaching tennis at Shady Oaks on the side. Tina thought she was dating a tennis pro which was fine with her because she knew right away that this was her guy. After a short courtship, they tied the knot. Forty-nine years, two kids, and three grandkids later, it’s been an incredible journey. Tina understood Ted like no one else. She adored and appreciated his Tedness.
Ted got his first car in his mid-twenties which started a long affair with Mercedes Benz; the only make he ever owned (because he could put over 200,000 miles on that diesel engine). After so many years without a car, he cherished these vehicles, always polished, spotless interiors, no eating inside, and constantly fine-tuned courtesy of Tony’s Garage. I’m sure many of you remember seeing Ted driving around town in his Mercedes with his shoulders barely above the top of the door: sort of a Low Rider Pimp-My-Ride Polack Mafioso look.
I love the story about Ted signing up for silent retreats during Holy Week. The only thing I can figure out is that it gave him a chance to learn sign language.
Back to Ted Talk. Ted liked to ask questions that only he could answer. I guess it was a MENSA thing. Tina once asked him to take the MENSA test, and Ted balked. This was a guy who struggled with reading for most of his life. He needed to read and reread sentences two and three times to remember them. But once he had it down, he never forgot. Finally, Ted agreed and scored exceptionally high on the test. After receiving the results, Tina asked if he wanted to join MENSA. Ted’s reply: “Of course not; I have a reputation to protect.”
Apparently, the Ted we knew outside the office was the same Ted inside the office. It is called getting “Gorski’d.” Leann Guzman tells this story: “Ted would often grill you about your knowledge of the most obscure facts, both ancient history and current events. One time I went into his office to ask a question, and, out of the blue, he barked, "Do you know why the price of milk is so high?" I had just happened to listen to NPR that morning, so I squeaked out, in question form, "Um... the price of grain went up?" He and I both were surprised I got the answer right because usually I had no idea what he was talking about with his random questions!”
I can hear Ted telling his co-workers, “You just don’t get it.” Which he told me many times.
Ted had a real sense of responsibility; even after dementia set in, he would tell Tina he had to get to the office because there was unfinished work to be done, and his staff was waiting on him. After many requests, Tina finally drove him to the office one night. No one was there because Ted was always the last to leave, …and had left the building.
Ted referred to some people only by their nicknames: The Healer (Bobby Brown); The Bear (Jack Levinson); The Spider (Ken Crawford); The Whale (Randy Crawford); Farrah (Doug Crawford); Ghost (me); to the point that his family never heard him refer to any of us by our real names.
My last Austin road trip with Ted occurred several years ago for a UT Tennis Reunion to honor the 2019 National Championship team. Ted enjoyed seeing his old mates again, soaking in the new tennis facility, and being recognized for his accomplishments at UT. The ride down went by fast. He started Ted Talk and again never repeated a story. On the drive back that night, I decided to give Ted an assignment: find a gas station with cheap gas and good food. Well, Ted’s idea of good food, all food is good, was quite different than mine. If you’ve ever eaten with Ted, you know he will inhale any and everything (and never put on weight). So, about every tenth exit, he’d say, “Pull in here.” I’d pull in, and there would be a Jack in the Box, Taco Bell, or worse, inside the station, so I’d drive on. Then several minutes later: “Here’s one, exit.” We’d pull up, but the gas would be sky-high, so off we’d go. We must have exited I-35 at least ten times without ever stopping for gas or food before we hit Fort Worth, on fumes and starving. I’m sure he ate everything in the frig when he got home.
Speaking of Ted’s eating habits, there is actually a sandwich, The Gorski, named after him at Nick Kithas’s Jazz Café on Montgomery Street. Ted was always bugging Nick about adding hot peppers and other delicacies to customize his sandwiches. Either it was Ted wearing Nick out or Nick’s business smarts that led to The Gorski being added to the menu, where it has remained for years.
My last adventure with Ted was a scavenger hunt we went on for relics, mementos, and what have you at the old J&J Blues Bar, which had been closed for years. The building was abandoned and partially fenced. While I’m trying to figure out a way to get past the fence, I look over, and there’s Ted already inside the fence, standing on a wobbly old table, swaying back and forth, trying to reach a relic high on the wall. Did I mention this guy was determined? That relic sits in my backyard today. “You keep it,” he said, “Tina won’t understand if I have to explain to her how we got it.”
Thank you, God, for Ted. Thank you for Ted Talk. And thank you for being here today; we’ve all been Gorski’ d.