CELEBRATING THE MEMORIES THAT MADE US
8/20/2025 12:00:00 PM | Athletic News
Baylor Athletics can strengthen the relational ties that bind
By Kevin Goll
Senior Associate AD, Strategic Vision & Innovation
with Jerry Hill
Baylor Bear Insider
It was admittedly a strange time to notice a pattern.
Sitting at the hospital bedside of my ailing dad, I was flipping through my phone's photo albums trying to find good pictures of him and remember better times that did not involve fluorescent lights and nurse's rounds. The familiar warmth of the captured moments helped counteract the impersonal sterility of the hospital room.
Then, it suddenly hit me. So many of these pictures of Dad and I were taken at athletic events, and specifically Baylor ones. Not all, to be sure, but more than enough for it to stand out as a theme.
Among the assortment were lots of shots snapped in the Ferrell Center, a football game in bad weather, us with my youngest son at the Texas Rangers ballpark watching Baylor baseball, and even one of him holding my oldest, his then-1-year-old grandson at McLane Stadium on a fall day in 2014 when we happened to beat a rival from up the road, 61-58.
Dad went to be with the Lord on July 24, a little over a month after his 75th birthday. Cancer came last year – stage four, metastatic, the scans were terrible. The only thing more aggressive than the spread of the disease was the progression of emotions we went through, from shock to anger to dread. He fought admirably and courageously, but there was never much doubt about where the arc of this journey was headed.
As Dad's days wound down, our conversations often arrived back at our favorite shared pastime. In the hospital, we talked about the difficulty of the upcoming football schedule and the depth of the new men's basketball roster. Dad wanted to know the widespread effects of unlimited transfers and what college athletics would look like in the post-House Settlement world. When he transitioned to home hospice, we poured over the stat sheets from basketball's run in this summer's World University Games. In our toughest moments, Baylor Athletics served us just as it had during our best moments – as a joyful point of engagement for father and son.
Though he never cared to talk about himself, Dad led a rich and interesting life. He was born in New York, and those roots, along with his childhood experiences living abroad and his Jesuit education, were always a part of him. He built a successful career with two global energy companies, and the last of numerous company-initiated relocations with our family was in 1998 to Houston. At home, he and my mom – his wife of nearly 42 years – put everything they had into raising me, my sister and my brother.
Life was busy growing up, so if Dad and I were out of the house together, the overwhelming odds were the activity involved either sports or church. This led to the canvas of my childhood being saturated with the memories of sporting events Dad and I experienced together.
In Atlanta, we watched Brave great Dale Murphy at Fulton County Stadium, human highlight reel Dominique Wilkins with the Hawks, and Kenny Anderson lead Georgia Tech to the Final Four. Metro DC meant Cal Ripken Jr. presiding over the Oriole infield and the opening of Camden Yards. In Spain for a few years, we watched international legend Arvydas Sabonis play for Real Madrid and American (and friend from church) Joe Arlauckas score 63 points in a Euroleague game. Suburban Philadelphia allowed us to see a young Allen Iverson cross-up Michael Jordan. And then finally to Houston, where we watched the end of the Hakeem Olajuwon era for the Rockets and the beginning of Yao Ming's, some great Astros teams, and the birth of the Houston Texans.
I was also fortunate to have the opportunity to play a lot of youth sports. The volume of baseball and basketball games meant a lot of car rides together. Dad always had notes, but the critiques never felt harsh, and the encouragements never felt phony. He helped coach me through about early middle school, when he concluded, "You've passed the point it makes sense for me to coach. I don't know enough to help you." The logic and humility were Classic Dad.
When it came time for me to go to college, he helped me look all over the country for what we found three hours away in Waco. Neither of us knew much about Baylor, but the school seemed to check a lot of the boxes I was looking for, and the academic award money they offered me certainly piqued Dad's interest. I had great experiences playing basketball and baseball in high school but was not a good enough athlete to play seriously at the college level. As I was planning to visit Baylor's campus as a senior, I learned that two friends of my high school basketball coach, Jerome Tang and Paul Mills (both from the Houston area), were hired by Baylor's new, young and energetic basketball coach who had come from a small school in Indiana. Someone named Scott Drew. My high school coach offered to make an introduction to those staff members if I had interest in being involved with the program.
Wouldn't it be a fun life experience to be a student manager and a part of a program trying to rebuild in the midst of historic challenges? I talked about this idea with my family and high school coaches. As it turned out, it was one of my best instincts ever. Baylor Basketball would wind up not only helping me have a great college experience, but meet my wife, launch my career, and is a central reason I am where I am today.
The first time Dad or I ever stepped foot on Baylor's campus, we did so together. We parked at the Ferrell Center as we had arranged to meet some of the basketball staff before our scheduled campus tour. Then-assistant coach Matthew Driscoll met us and gave us a quick tour of the facility. He asked if we had watched them play on TV much the previous season. I said no, not really. He said, "I'm glad, we weren't very good." We then met and visited with Coach Mills, after which they pulled Coach Drew out of a meeting to meet me briefly.
After introductions to Dad and I and a few pleasantries, Coach Drew looked directly at me and said very sincerely and confidently, "You should come here and help us, because we're going to get this thing turned and win."
He was 33. I was 18. I had never believed a prediction so strongly in my life.
Dad and I walked out of the Ferrell Center that morning with new connective tissue to our relationship. We knew we were both now Baylor Bears. And for the next two decades-plus, that remained a core connection point for us. Something to jointly follow. An incentive to text. A basis to visit. A reason to – as we had in all those photos I scrolled through – wear the green and gold together.
It turns out, relationships need intentional connection points because when a son leaves home for college and doesn't go where his dad went, doesn't major in what he majored in, pursues an unrelated career, worships in a different denomination, and calls a different city home, the links in the relational armor between the two can weaken. Especially in the period before more natural bonds – like grandkids – arise.
Take a look at the schedule and pick out one or two games that make sense for mom and I to come up for. This was the line Dad would say to me, like clockwork, three times a year, always a month or two before football, basketball and baseball season. It hasn't quite sunk in I'm not going to hear that sentence spoken to me ever again. There can be something about the male brain that lacks the ability to make proactive plans, even with loved ones, without a reason or "just because." But if there might be a game to go to? Well, then it makes all the sense in the world to get together!
Unsurprisingly, since I came to work at Baylor, Dad never used the occasion to ask for better seats or any perks. He did not even particularly like going down to the sideline during a football game, as he did not care for the viewing angle from down there. Turns out, Dad was pretty well in it for two reasons only – spending time together and actually watching a ballgame. I will miss sitting in the stands, with Dad on one side and usually one or two or sometimes all three of my kids on the other side. I liked how that felt.
At my prompting, he did enjoy going to the postgame press conferences, though. In fact, the one after our field-storming 27-14 football win over Oklahoma in 2021 has audio of my dad's signature laugh being the only noise in an otherwise quiet and focused room after one of Coach Aranda's thoughtful responses to a question.
A campus as vibrant as Baylor has no shortage of events and happenings to enjoy. However, Baylor Athletics remains the single biggest place for shared experience and unity among all our University family and community. In a given academic year, we host over 180 competition events, and each one of them is an opportunity to deepen relationships. Baylor Athletics entertains us surely, it scratches our competitive itch, it provides a platform for the wonderful mission of our university. But as much or more than any of that, it is a place where everybody in the Baylor family can belong.
In a world of increasing isolation and digitization, it gets us together live and in person. It provides an opportunity to witness greatness with those who we care about the most. My friend, Paul Putz, who leads Baylor's Faith & Sports Institute, often says that while never an ultimate thing, sports should be received as a good gift from a perfect Giver. This is absolutely true, and within the goodness of the gift of sports is how it can bless and impact not only the participants but also the viewers. The relationship I enjoyed with Dad owes a lot of quality time to this truth.
I
have a great many thoughts and emotions processing Dad's passing, as is natural for a son to have when the lifelong rock of the family graduates to the better side of eternity. One constant has been the feeling of gratitude for the memories and experiences we had together. In hindsight, I do not regret any of the effort I put forth into making those moments happen, and I know he didn't either.
Sitting here on the cusp of another athletics year, I can think of no better way to honor the memory of Gene Goll than to encourage you to call a play from his playbook:
Take a look at the schedule and pick out one or two games that make sense for you to meet up with your family in Waco. Call your kids or your parents and get them on board. Have a meal together before and after. Stay the night. Get after those memories.
Trust me, you do not want to rush even a single moment. As I know now, they will pass quickly enough on their own without you hurrying them.
Senior Associate AD, Strategic Vision & Innovation
with Jerry Hill
Baylor Bear Insider
It was admittedly a strange time to notice a pattern.
Sitting at the hospital bedside of my ailing dad, I was flipping through my phone's photo albums trying to find good pictures of him and remember better times that did not involve fluorescent lights and nurse's rounds. The familiar warmth of the captured moments helped counteract the impersonal sterility of the hospital room.
Then, it suddenly hit me. So many of these pictures of Dad and I were taken at athletic events, and specifically Baylor ones. Not all, to be sure, but more than enough for it to stand out as a theme.
Among the assortment were lots of shots snapped in the Ferrell Center, a football game in bad weather, us with my youngest son at the Texas Rangers ballpark watching Baylor baseball, and even one of him holding my oldest, his then-1-year-old grandson at McLane Stadium on a fall day in 2014 when we happened to beat a rival from up the road, 61-58.
Dad went to be with the Lord on July 24, a little over a month after his 75th birthday. Cancer came last year – stage four, metastatic, the scans were terrible. The only thing more aggressive than the spread of the disease was the progression of emotions we went through, from shock to anger to dread. He fought admirably and courageously, but there was never much doubt about where the arc of this journey was headed.
As Dad's days wound down, our conversations often arrived back at our favorite shared pastime. In the hospital, we talked about the difficulty of the upcoming football schedule and the depth of the new men's basketball roster. Dad wanted to know the widespread effects of unlimited transfers and what college athletics would look like in the post-House Settlement world. When he transitioned to home hospice, we poured over the stat sheets from basketball's run in this summer's World University Games. In our toughest moments, Baylor Athletics served us just as it had during our best moments – as a joyful point of engagement for father and son.
Though he never cared to talk about himself, Dad led a rich and interesting life. He was born in New York, and those roots, along with his childhood experiences living abroad and his Jesuit education, were always a part of him. He built a successful career with two global energy companies, and the last of numerous company-initiated relocations with our family was in 1998 to Houston. At home, he and my mom – his wife of nearly 42 years – put everything they had into raising me, my sister and my brother.
Life was busy growing up, so if Dad and I were out of the house together, the overwhelming odds were the activity involved either sports or church. This led to the canvas of my childhood being saturated with the memories of sporting events Dad and I experienced together.
In Atlanta, we watched Brave great Dale Murphy at Fulton County Stadium, human highlight reel Dominique Wilkins with the Hawks, and Kenny Anderson lead Georgia Tech to the Final Four. Metro DC meant Cal Ripken Jr. presiding over the Oriole infield and the opening of Camden Yards. In Spain for a few years, we watched international legend Arvydas Sabonis play for Real Madrid and American (and friend from church) Joe Arlauckas score 63 points in a Euroleague game. Suburban Philadelphia allowed us to see a young Allen Iverson cross-up Michael Jordan. And then finally to Houston, where we watched the end of the Hakeem Olajuwon era for the Rockets and the beginning of Yao Ming's, some great Astros teams, and the birth of the Houston Texans.
I was also fortunate to have the opportunity to play a lot of youth sports. The volume of baseball and basketball games meant a lot of car rides together. Dad always had notes, but the critiques never felt harsh, and the encouragements never felt phony. He helped coach me through about early middle school, when he concluded, "You've passed the point it makes sense for me to coach. I don't know enough to help you." The logic and humility were Classic Dad.
When it came time for me to go to college, he helped me look all over the country for what we found three hours away in Waco. Neither of us knew much about Baylor, but the school seemed to check a lot of the boxes I was looking for, and the academic award money they offered me certainly piqued Dad's interest. I had great experiences playing basketball and baseball in high school but was not a good enough athlete to play seriously at the college level. As I was planning to visit Baylor's campus as a senior, I learned that two friends of my high school basketball coach, Jerome Tang and Paul Mills (both from the Houston area), were hired by Baylor's new, young and energetic basketball coach who had come from a small school in Indiana. Someone named Scott Drew. My high school coach offered to make an introduction to those staff members if I had interest in being involved with the program.
Wouldn't it be a fun life experience to be a student manager and a part of a program trying to rebuild in the midst of historic challenges? I talked about this idea with my family and high school coaches. As it turned out, it was one of my best instincts ever. Baylor Basketball would wind up not only helping me have a great college experience, but meet my wife, launch my career, and is a central reason I am where I am today.The first time Dad or I ever stepped foot on Baylor's campus, we did so together. We parked at the Ferrell Center as we had arranged to meet some of the basketball staff before our scheduled campus tour. Then-assistant coach Matthew Driscoll met us and gave us a quick tour of the facility. He asked if we had watched them play on TV much the previous season. I said no, not really. He said, "I'm glad, we weren't very good." We then met and visited with Coach Mills, after which they pulled Coach Drew out of a meeting to meet me briefly.
After introductions to Dad and I and a few pleasantries, Coach Drew looked directly at me and said very sincerely and confidently, "You should come here and help us, because we're going to get this thing turned and win."
He was 33. I was 18. I had never believed a prediction so strongly in my life.
Dad and I walked out of the Ferrell Center that morning with new connective tissue to our relationship. We knew we were both now Baylor Bears. And for the next two decades-plus, that remained a core connection point for us. Something to jointly follow. An incentive to text. A basis to visit. A reason to – as we had in all those photos I scrolled through – wear the green and gold together.
It turns out, relationships need intentional connection points because when a son leaves home for college and doesn't go where his dad went, doesn't major in what he majored in, pursues an unrelated career, worships in a different denomination, and calls a different city home, the links in the relational armor between the two can weaken. Especially in the period before more natural bonds – like grandkids – arise.
Take a look at the schedule and pick out one or two games that make sense for mom and I to come up for. This was the line Dad would say to me, like clockwork, three times a year, always a month or two before football, basketball and baseball season. It hasn't quite sunk in I'm not going to hear that sentence spoken to me ever again. There can be something about the male brain that lacks the ability to make proactive plans, even with loved ones, without a reason or "just because." But if there might be a game to go to? Well, then it makes all the sense in the world to get together!
Unsurprisingly, since I came to work at Baylor, Dad never used the occasion to ask for better seats or any perks. He did not even particularly like going down to the sideline during a football game, as he did not care for the viewing angle from down there. Turns out, Dad was pretty well in it for two reasons only – spending time together and actually watching a ballgame. I will miss sitting in the stands, with Dad on one side and usually one or two or sometimes all three of my kids on the other side. I liked how that felt.
At my prompting, he did enjoy going to the postgame press conferences, though. In fact, the one after our field-storming 27-14 football win over Oklahoma in 2021 has audio of my dad's signature laugh being the only noise in an otherwise quiet and focused room after one of Coach Aranda's thoughtful responses to a question.
A campus as vibrant as Baylor has no shortage of events and happenings to enjoy. However, Baylor Athletics remains the single biggest place for shared experience and unity among all our University family and community. In a given academic year, we host over 180 competition events, and each one of them is an opportunity to deepen relationships. Baylor Athletics entertains us surely, it scratches our competitive itch, it provides a platform for the wonderful mission of our university. But as much or more than any of that, it is a place where everybody in the Baylor family can belong.
In a world of increasing isolation and digitization, it gets us together live and in person. It provides an opportunity to witness greatness with those who we care about the most. My friend, Paul Putz, who leads Baylor's Faith & Sports Institute, often says that while never an ultimate thing, sports should be received as a good gift from a perfect Giver. This is absolutely true, and within the goodness of the gift of sports is how it can bless and impact not only the participants but also the viewers. The relationship I enjoyed with Dad owes a lot of quality time to this truth.
I
have a great many thoughts and emotions processing Dad's passing, as is natural for a son to have when the lifelong rock of the family graduates to the better side of eternity. One constant has been the feeling of gratitude for the memories and experiences we had together. In hindsight, I do not regret any of the effort I put forth into making those moments happen, and I know he didn't either.Sitting here on the cusp of another athletics year, I can think of no better way to honor the memory of Gene Goll than to encourage you to call a play from his playbook:
Take a look at the schedule and pick out one or two games that make sense for you to meet up with your family in Waco. Call your kids or your parents and get them on board. Have a meal together before and after. Stay the night. Get after those memories.
Trust me, you do not want to rush even a single moment. As I know now, they will pass quickly enough on their own without you hurrying them.
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