They entered St. Vincent de Paul Church on Monday wearing jeans and parkas and knit caps, and a few busy people arrived with their work ID badges still pinned to their clothes. They stood next to men in sharp suits and women in heels, the wardrobe choice of most of the nearly 2,000 mourners at the public wake of DePaul legend Ray Meyer, who died Friday at 92.
And they stood out. They came as they were. The man who lived his life the same way would have appreciated that. The faces Chicago easily would recognize are expected to show up Tuesday morning for Meyer's funeral: Mark Aguirre, Isiah Thomas, Larry Brown and possibly Mike Krzyzewski, among others. But the faces maybe only a Meyer could love, the hundreds of Chicagoans who considered a one-time meeting with "Coach" a lifetime highlight, were the most obvious presence at Monday's memorial. Meyer drawing people from all walks of life to his wake best illustrates what he evolved into: not just DePaul's coach but Chicago's, a man even Mike Ditka once said deserved that title more than anybody else in the city. "Cops, firemen, plumbers, all kinds of people could relate to him," said former DePaul star Tom Kleinschmidt, a Blue Demon from 1992-95 who played for Meyer's son Joey. "That's why you see this type of turnout. Regular people want to thank him just for being him."
When the main doors of the church on Webster Street opened at 1 p.m., the line already had snaked around the corner onto Sheffield. Across the street, a popular campus pizzeria paid its own unique tribute in the window. Written on four separate plates were the words, "God Bless Coach Ray." Bouquets of flowers surrounded Meyer's casket at the front of the church, sent from stalwarts in the college basketball community such as Connecticut coach Jim Calhoun, Villanova coach Jay Wright, Notre Dame athletic director Kevin White, the Northwestern basketball program and others. Inside his coffin, Meyer wore an orange basketball tie nattily matched against a dark suit and a peaceful expression that gave his family and friends comfort as they stopped to pay their respects.
"It's been a tough couple of days for all of us, but at the same time when you see the kind of impact one person has had on so many lives, it's been incredibly rewarding," DePaul athletic director Jean Lenti-Ponsetto said. "It took something like this to hearken back to what a national treasure he's been for all of us." "He changed my life," said Randy Ramsey, a Blue Demons guard from 1974-78. "I met him when I was 14 years old, so I knew him for 37 years. We all loved him, and he kept tabs on all of us."
Mayor Richard Daley, a DePaul graduate, recalled the days when Meyer used to show up in the campus cafeteria just to talk with students. The coach's easygoing nature contrasted sharply with the "scrappy and tough" Blue Demons teams the mayor recalled from that era. "He's part of the legend in Chicago, part of the history in Chicago and I think his family realizes that," Daley said. "Everybody does because he was such a wonderful coach and a wonderful man." Bulls general manager John Paxson found out for himself when he came to Chicago to play in 1985 and developed a rapport with Meyer. Before that his image of Meyer was restricted to the animated coach he saw arguing with officials while coaching DePaul against Paxson's Notre Dame teams. "When I played, I thought of him as a raving maniac on the sidelines the way he got on officials," Paxson said, smiling. "[But] this is a legend, a guy who treated people the right way. It's always sad when people of his character pass, especially the way the world is today."
Without Meyer molding his character, Lemone Lampley wonders if he ever would have gone from the South Side to DePaul to a successful career that has brought him back to campus as a part of the school's athletic administration. "He's one of the reasons I'm here now," said Lampley, a 6-foot- 11-inch center who played for both Ray and Joey Meyer. "He was old- school and he made me work." Once, Meyer just made Lampley mad--a tale he recalled fondly Monday. Seems Meyer ordered his players to run line drills after a lackluster practice, and Lampley complained he was tired. "Coach just told someone to get him a chair and a Pepsi. He sat down and said, 'I'm not tired,"' Lampley said.
A career spanning 42 seasons suggests Meyer never got tired of coaching, a legacy former DePaul coach Dave Leitao believes is as impressive as any. Leitao left DePaul for Virginia last year after three seasons. "In this day and age, you're trying to find your way for 42 months, not 42 years," Leitao said. "It's purity that helped [Meyer] make it through those years, the heart he has." Hearts all over campus, around the city and in the basketball world are a little heavier this week. On prayer cards available in the church's vestibule, a vibrant Meyer clutches a basketball on the front and a strong, loving family says goodbye on the back. "It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone," the prayer reads. "A part of us went with you the day God called you home."
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