Canadian Sports Writing Legend George "The Baron" Gross dead at 85
George Gross a writing legend gone to the big sporting event in the sky. He served as Corporate Sports Editor for Sun Media up to his death. From a Czechoslovak defecting after World War Two by rowing across the Danube to Austria, to having all leading sports figures in his black book, he was a true gentleman.
He would cover nine Olympic Games (12 according to some), eight World Cups in soccer, 11 world hockey championships and 10 world figure skating championships and 17 Wimbledon championships.
He was recognized for his work with the following:
- Enshrined in Canada's Sports Hall of Fame in 2005.
- Named to the Order of Ontario in 2003.
- Named to the Olympic Order in 1994 (only N. American journalist to receive this honour).
- Won a National Newspaper Award in 1974 for his story on the defection of Czech hockey star Vaclav Nedomansky.
Rest in Peace George - I always enjoyed you columns.
----
A true reporter right to the end
George Gross 1923-2008; Sports editor leaves a legacy
By BILL LANKHOF, TORONTO SUN
http://www.torontosun.com/News/Toron...f-5073251.html
George Gross always knew how to make a grand entrance in this world.
So, it seems fitting somehow that on Christianity's biggest holiday of the year, he would begin his adventure into the next.
Gross, the Baron of sports journalism in Canada for almost 60 years, died yesterday after suffering a heart attack at his Etobicoke home.
He's survived by his wife, Elizabeth, son George, daughter Elizabeth (Teddy), and the Toronto Sun sports department, which he built out of wooden crates for desks, a couple of wonky typewriters, an innate stubbornness that wouldn't abide failure and a telephone line to the sports world. But a bit of us all died with him.
It seems trite to suggest his passing marks the end of era. But it's not without validity. Gross came from an era when sports journalism was not merely a profession. It was a lifestyle.
Gone in recent months are Jim Hunt, Pat Marsden, Milt Dunnell and now Gross. They were from a time when sports journalism was as much about being part of the sports scene as it was writing about it.
One of his most treasured possessions was a 1967 Stanley Cup ring given to him (and to Dunnell) when the Maple Leafs last won the NHL championship. He was of an era when athletes and the people who wrote about them had character and colour.
Gross, who was 85, will long be remembered for having both. Born in Bratislava in 1923 he was proficient in five languages: English, Slovak, Czech, German and Hungarian but, in a pinch, he could also hold a conversation in Russian, Polish, Serbian or Croatian.
His temper was mercurial and as his assistant sports editor for several years in the 1980s I still have the memos to prove it. But he never stayed angry and when his face had stopped just short of fire engine-red, he'd put his hand on your shoulder and give you his patented "Okay, kiddo!" and it was on to the next story.
Because for Gross it was always about the next story, the next edition.
When he was Sun sports editor in the 1980s it wasn't unusual for him to be in the office by 8 a.m., and still be there 12 hours later. And if the next morning the section didn't meet with his approval, some night editor would be getting a not-too-cheery wakeup call.
He was demanding. But he never asked more of anyone else than he asked of himself.
"I didn't put 24 hours a day into it but maybe 15-16 hours," he said in January at his 85th birthday. "I never regretted one minute. I enjoyed the athletes, the people, the journalists. If you have the time for journalism you can accomplish a lot."
Amateur athletes never had a bolder champion. And amateur sport knew it, bestowing the Olympic Order on him -- the only North American journalist ever to be so honoured.
And it wasn't because he always pandered to them. Once, while sitting in his office, he lit into Juan Antonio Samaranch, the then Olympic boss, like a father taking his wayward son out behind the woodshed.
His boundless energy was reflected by his induction into five different halls of fame, a career that spans from Barbara Ann Scott to Mats Sundin, 17 trips to Wimbledon and the 1974 National Newspaper Award chronicling Vaclav Nedomansky's defection from behind the Iron Curtain.
For Gross, who defected himself from Czechoslovakia in 1949, it was validation. It remained one of his proudest achievements.
His career started with the Toronto Telegram in 1959 and, when it folded, moved to the upstart Sun in 1971 as sports editor. In 1986 he became corporate sports editor of Sun Media. He would cover nine Olympic Games, eight World Cups in soccer, 11 world hockey championships and 10 world figure skating championships.
He was still writing three columns each week, covering anything from high school sports to a sit-down lunch with Gary Bettman. And if he called Martina Navratilova or Anna Kournikova today, they'd scratch each other's eyes out to be the first to call him back -- most guys just dream of having little, black books with that kind of action between the covers.
The day before he was to meet his last deadline, Sun news reporter Jack Boland sat and talked to him for about 45 minutes.
"We talked about the old Leafs and some guy had e-mailed him five or six times about a hockey stick that Syl Apps had signed and George was waiting for him to bring it in. George says: 'I've been here since 7:30 and that dunderhead still isn't here. If he doesn't hurry up, I'm going to die before he gets here.' "
As usual, George had the scoop -- a true newspaperman to the end.
****
The granddaddy of 'em all
George Gross 1923-2008; Sports editor an athlete, a leader and a legend touch 'em all, george
By PETER WORTHINGTON, TORONTO SUN
http://www.torontosun.com/News/Colum...073636-sun.php
I can't believe it.
George Gross, the indestructible George Gross, dead at age 85.
Another one gone.
Lord, I hate writing about friends and colleagues when they die, and who've fitted so intimately to one's life.
Yet it's a small way to pay tribute to them, and it's cathartic. And who better to do it?
George, the inestimable Baron, ever a character, ever a source of wisdom, a personality so vital to the Sun newspapers that it's painful even thinking of starting next week without him. Suddenly he's gone.
Yet life goes on -- as George himself would say.
In fact, as George did say, when we chatted last Tuesday in the Sun cafeteria -- me nursing a rare coffee, George with a ham-and-egg bagel for breakfast that I kidded him was a poor substitute for fibre-rich granola.
And it was only last Friday that Marilynn Figueroa expressed concern that George was tending to doze off in his office at mid-morning.
I said something about if he dozed off while you're speaking to him, it's editorial judgment on the content of your conversation. I didn't take it seriously.
He lived a full and eventful life, did our George.
And he realized it. We both agreed that going quickly was a mercy, and that everything after, say 70, or 75, and certainly after 80, was gravy.
We in the media tend to cheapen the word when we refer to certain people as "legends in their own time." But George Gross certainly was.
COMMUNIST TAKEOVER
Let others recall his "escape" from Czechoslovakia in the early days of Communist takeover of that country, by swimming down the Danube, or rowing down the Danube, or walking down the Danube (yes, many thought George could walk on water).
The tales of his escape vary in the telling -- the only constant being his enduring love of freedom that motivated his life.
George was not only a day-oner at the Sun, but an indispensable day-oner, responsible for the sports department which, even today, bears his imprint as arguably the best in town.
Not a vain man ... on second thought, check that.
Although vanity was not unknown to him, George would agree that he was not intimidated by running a sports department, or encountering greatness.
It is widely said that if he didn't know a celebrated sports figure -- athlete or management or media -- that person was undeserving of celebrity status.
Internationally or domestically, he not only knew every important sports figure -- he had their phone number. Politicians, too.
Always dapper and well turned out, George made the rest of us in today's Sun newsroom feel a bit like slobs.
Even at 7 a.m. He didn't walk to his office, he glided, like a majestic galleon, slow, dignified, serene.
He had a nice self-deprecatory sense of humour (which I'm not sure was that self-deprecatory), but he understood that the kidding he endured was a form of affection. You don't tease those you don't like.
In the old days, George would get into tiffs with publisher Doug Creighton -- usually about sports coverage, which Doug knew as a former sports editor.
Doug always won these arguments -- until he forgot the squabble, and George went ahead and did what he was going to do anyway.
George was a walking encyclopedia on sports. I suspect he covered more Wimbledon tennis championships than any other journalist, and certainly knew more tennis greats than any.
It wouldn't surprise me if he taught Bill Tilden his backhand.
Even as you read this, a note is sitting on George's desk at the Sun, a reminder to himself to check next week on this summer's Wimbleton tournament.
In his prime, George was a great soccer player (he once held the record of scoring seven goals in one game in Toronto).
He was a fine tennis player -- even though he used to claim Tom Okker let him down by double-faulting in a celebrity tennis match at a time when Okker was U.S. Open doubles champion.
You name the sports Hall of Fame category and George is likely in it -- as well as on Olympic committees and various sports bodies.
In this capacity he travelled the world.
One of the endearing moments of Sun history (mythology?) was when the elevator at the old Sun's Eclipse Building near the Royal Alex broke down, and George was seen emerging on the third floor from the elevator shaft, hauling himself up using the elevator cables, wearing a camel hair coat and an Alpine cap perched on his head at a rakish angle.
Ever the Baron.
ALWAYS GENEROUS
George was always generous with his time and advice.
At the Sun he even wrote impassioned letters to Pierre-Karl Peladeau, our beloved Quebecor leader, offering what he acknowledged was impertinent advice on what P-K should be doing.
"I felt I had a duty to do so," George explained when I asked him.
"I hope he paid attention," I said.
"I doubt it," said George.
And now he is gone.
Larger than life, I miss him greatly, but feel fortunate he died so quickly and apparently painlessly. Still, it's not easier for those he left behind -- especially son, George, daughter, Teddy, and his wonderful, gallant wife, Elizabeth, who, in her life, has put up with a lot from this old scallywag.
****
The Baron a friend to all
No matter where you go, what you cover, George Gross' reach is felt
By STEVE SIMMONS
http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Columnists...f-5075926.html
The woman was staring at me, or so I thought. We were sitting in the press conference room at Wimbledon, when finally she approached with a smile.
"You're from the Toronto Sun, aren't you?" she said, peering at the press credential around my neck. "Please say hi to George for me."
It was always that way with George Gross.
It was something a lot of us in the industry got used to.
It didn't matter if it was Switzerland or Sweden, the French Alps or Australia, the Orient or the former Soviet Union. It didn't matter which event of consequence it happened to be -- the world track and field championships or Wimbledon or the world hockey championships or the world figure skating championships -- you usually got that tap on the shoulder or that friendly handshake.
Someone wanting to pass on greetings and well wishes to George Gross.
It seemed like everybody who was anybody knew him. The commissioners. The presidents. The heads of the federations. The PR people. The working journalists. All of them a little poorer today, a little sadder knowing The Baron has passed on at the age of 85.
It doesn't seem quite real, yet. It can't seem real that he is not with us anymore. The man was such a presence in our daily work, the father figure we would turn to on occasion, asking for advice. The sage old uncle who had been there and done that. The crazy, cranky oldtimer who refused to quit. At 85, he was as turned-on by a news beat as he ever was. That part never left him.
LAST SCOOP
The final front-page story -- the last great George Gross scoop -- came not that long ago. It was a rare one-on-one interview with Mats Sundin prior to the NHL trade deadline. It was the most expressive Sundin has been on the subject.
It was Gross, typically in jacket, shirt and tie, eating at the expensive steak house, getting someone to say something he wouldn't tell anyone else: A journalist who loved nothing better than to pull out his Rolodex, summon up a contact no one else could find, and show us kids how it was done. Just like the old days.
And, like most journalistic lifers, he worked right to his final day. In the office on Thursday, gone by Friday. Leaving a book he was working on incomplete, leaving a column for tomorrow's paper an idea unfinished, leaving behind an assignment of interviews he was preparing for a piece to run next month.
BUILDER
Leaving behind a legacy as a builder of sport, newspaper, industry leader, and not to be forgotten or short-changed, was his love of a good meal, a great hotel and an even better bottle of wine.
George Gross lived the life and then some. At differing times, and of a different generation, he wrote the story and sometimes was part of the story. He grew up, as Paul Beeston pointed out yesterday, "when writers were as much a part of the team as the players were ... I don't think Punch Imlach ever changed lines or made a trade without consulting with George first."
This has been a rough time for the sports media in Canada. In a rather brief period, too many have gone. We have lost Milt Dunnell and Don Wittman and Don Chevrier and Pat Marsden and Jim Hunt, and now George.
Each of them different but each of them valuable and relevant and unique.
As others will point out, and Godfrey certainly did yesterday, George Gross was a Canadian success story. He was an immigrant who escaped from Czechoslovakia, came to Canada, learned English, made a life for himself and his family as a journalist and refused to retire. At an age when most of us would rather be on a beach or worrying about short games, George wanted none of that. He'd roll up his sleeves, get involved in his next story or his next organization or his next cause or charitable act -- and there were many of each -- because the only world he knew was work.
And everybody in it, around the world, seemed to know him.
---
"George combined elegance and eloquence. His unique ability to tell a story earned him renown, and friends, around the world."
Gary Bettman, NHL commissioner
"He epitomized what a true gentleman really is. He was someone I admired profusely."
Cliff Fletcher, Leafs GM
"He was the go-to guy for contacts. He always saw the lighter and brighter side of life. Nobody lived life better than George."
Paul Godfrey, Blue Jays president
"There wasn't a more proud Canadian."
Paul Beeston, former Blue Jays president
"His love of soccer and hockey ... was topped only by his passion for writing about them."
Dave Hodge, broadcaster
"You'll never have a better friend. He seemed to remember everybody and they remembered him."
Bill Stephenson, broadcaster
"When I became commissioner, his advice, to 'just be yourself' has been extremely helpful."
Mark Cohon, CFL commish
He would cover nine Olympic Games (12 according to some), eight World Cups in soccer, 11 world hockey championships and 10 world figure skating championships and 17 Wimbledon championships.
He was recognized for his work with the following:
- Enshrined in Canada's Sports Hall of Fame in 2005.
- Named to the Order of Ontario in 2003.
- Named to the Olympic Order in 1994 (only N. American journalist to receive this honour).
- Won a National Newspaper Award in 1974 for his story on the defection of Czech hockey star Vaclav Nedomansky.
Rest in Peace George - I always enjoyed you columns.
----
A true reporter right to the end
George Gross 1923-2008; Sports editor leaves a legacy
By BILL LANKHOF, TORONTO SUN
http://www.torontosun.com/News/Toron...f-5073251.html
George Gross always knew how to make a grand entrance in this world.
So, it seems fitting somehow that on Christianity's biggest holiday of the year, he would begin his adventure into the next.
Gross, the Baron of sports journalism in Canada for almost 60 years, died yesterday after suffering a heart attack at his Etobicoke home.
He's survived by his wife, Elizabeth, son George, daughter Elizabeth (Teddy), and the Toronto Sun sports department, which he built out of wooden crates for desks, a couple of wonky typewriters, an innate stubbornness that wouldn't abide failure and a telephone line to the sports world. But a bit of us all died with him.
It seems trite to suggest his passing marks the end of era. But it's not without validity. Gross came from an era when sports journalism was not merely a profession. It was a lifestyle.
Gone in recent months are Jim Hunt, Pat Marsden, Milt Dunnell and now Gross. They were from a time when sports journalism was as much about being part of the sports scene as it was writing about it.
One of his most treasured possessions was a 1967 Stanley Cup ring given to him (and to Dunnell) when the Maple Leafs last won the NHL championship. He was of an era when athletes and the people who wrote about them had character and colour.
Gross, who was 85, will long be remembered for having both. Born in Bratislava in 1923 he was proficient in five languages: English, Slovak, Czech, German and Hungarian but, in a pinch, he could also hold a conversation in Russian, Polish, Serbian or Croatian.
His temper was mercurial and as his assistant sports editor for several years in the 1980s I still have the memos to prove it. But he never stayed angry and when his face had stopped just short of fire engine-red, he'd put his hand on your shoulder and give you his patented "Okay, kiddo!" and it was on to the next story.
Because for Gross it was always about the next story, the next edition.
When he was Sun sports editor in the 1980s it wasn't unusual for him to be in the office by 8 a.m., and still be there 12 hours later. And if the next morning the section didn't meet with his approval, some night editor would be getting a not-too-cheery wakeup call.
He was demanding. But he never asked more of anyone else than he asked of himself.
"I didn't put 24 hours a day into it but maybe 15-16 hours," he said in January at his 85th birthday. "I never regretted one minute. I enjoyed the athletes, the people, the journalists. If you have the time for journalism you can accomplish a lot."
Amateur athletes never had a bolder champion. And amateur sport knew it, bestowing the Olympic Order on him -- the only North American journalist ever to be so honoured.
And it wasn't because he always pandered to them. Once, while sitting in his office, he lit into Juan Antonio Samaranch, the then Olympic boss, like a father taking his wayward son out behind the woodshed.
His boundless energy was reflected by his induction into five different halls of fame, a career that spans from Barbara Ann Scott to Mats Sundin, 17 trips to Wimbledon and the 1974 National Newspaper Award chronicling Vaclav Nedomansky's defection from behind the Iron Curtain.
For Gross, who defected himself from Czechoslovakia in 1949, it was validation. It remained one of his proudest achievements.
His career started with the Toronto Telegram in 1959 and, when it folded, moved to the upstart Sun in 1971 as sports editor. In 1986 he became corporate sports editor of Sun Media. He would cover nine Olympic Games, eight World Cups in soccer, 11 world hockey championships and 10 world figure skating championships.
He was still writing three columns each week, covering anything from high school sports to a sit-down lunch with Gary Bettman. And if he called Martina Navratilova or Anna Kournikova today, they'd scratch each other's eyes out to be the first to call him back -- most guys just dream of having little, black books with that kind of action between the covers.
The day before he was to meet his last deadline, Sun news reporter Jack Boland sat and talked to him for about 45 minutes.
"We talked about the old Leafs and some guy had e-mailed him five or six times about a hockey stick that Syl Apps had signed and George was waiting for him to bring it in. George says: 'I've been here since 7:30 and that dunderhead still isn't here. If he doesn't hurry up, I'm going to die before he gets here.' "
As usual, George had the scoop -- a true newspaperman to the end.
****
The granddaddy of 'em all
George Gross 1923-2008; Sports editor an athlete, a leader and a legend touch 'em all, george
By PETER WORTHINGTON, TORONTO SUN
http://www.torontosun.com/News/Colum...073636-sun.php
I can't believe it.
George Gross, the indestructible George Gross, dead at age 85.
Another one gone.
Lord, I hate writing about friends and colleagues when they die, and who've fitted so intimately to one's life.
Yet it's a small way to pay tribute to them, and it's cathartic. And who better to do it?
George, the inestimable Baron, ever a character, ever a source of wisdom, a personality so vital to the Sun newspapers that it's painful even thinking of starting next week without him. Suddenly he's gone.
Yet life goes on -- as George himself would say.
In fact, as George did say, when we chatted last Tuesday in the Sun cafeteria -- me nursing a rare coffee, George with a ham-and-egg bagel for breakfast that I kidded him was a poor substitute for fibre-rich granola.
And it was only last Friday that Marilynn Figueroa expressed concern that George was tending to doze off in his office at mid-morning.
I said something about if he dozed off while you're speaking to him, it's editorial judgment on the content of your conversation. I didn't take it seriously.
He lived a full and eventful life, did our George.
And he realized it. We both agreed that going quickly was a mercy, and that everything after, say 70, or 75, and certainly after 80, was gravy.
We in the media tend to cheapen the word when we refer to certain people as "legends in their own time." But George Gross certainly was.
COMMUNIST TAKEOVER
Let others recall his "escape" from Czechoslovakia in the early days of Communist takeover of that country, by swimming down the Danube, or rowing down the Danube, or walking down the Danube (yes, many thought George could walk on water).
The tales of his escape vary in the telling -- the only constant being his enduring love of freedom that motivated his life.
George was not only a day-oner at the Sun, but an indispensable day-oner, responsible for the sports department which, even today, bears his imprint as arguably the best in town.
Not a vain man ... on second thought, check that.
Although vanity was not unknown to him, George would agree that he was not intimidated by running a sports department, or encountering greatness.
It is widely said that if he didn't know a celebrated sports figure -- athlete or management or media -- that person was undeserving of celebrity status.
Internationally or domestically, he not only knew every important sports figure -- he had their phone number. Politicians, too.
Always dapper and well turned out, George made the rest of us in today's Sun newsroom feel a bit like slobs.
Even at 7 a.m. He didn't walk to his office, he glided, like a majestic galleon, slow, dignified, serene.
He had a nice self-deprecatory sense of humour (which I'm not sure was that self-deprecatory), but he understood that the kidding he endured was a form of affection. You don't tease those you don't like.
In the old days, George would get into tiffs with publisher Doug Creighton -- usually about sports coverage, which Doug knew as a former sports editor.
Doug always won these arguments -- until he forgot the squabble, and George went ahead and did what he was going to do anyway.
George was a walking encyclopedia on sports. I suspect he covered more Wimbledon tennis championships than any other journalist, and certainly knew more tennis greats than any.
It wouldn't surprise me if he taught Bill Tilden his backhand.
Even as you read this, a note is sitting on George's desk at the Sun, a reminder to himself to check next week on this summer's Wimbleton tournament.
In his prime, George was a great soccer player (he once held the record of scoring seven goals in one game in Toronto).
He was a fine tennis player -- even though he used to claim Tom Okker let him down by double-faulting in a celebrity tennis match at a time when Okker was U.S. Open doubles champion.
You name the sports Hall of Fame category and George is likely in it -- as well as on Olympic committees and various sports bodies.
In this capacity he travelled the world.
One of the endearing moments of Sun history (mythology?) was when the elevator at the old Sun's Eclipse Building near the Royal Alex broke down, and George was seen emerging on the third floor from the elevator shaft, hauling himself up using the elevator cables, wearing a camel hair coat and an Alpine cap perched on his head at a rakish angle.
Ever the Baron.
ALWAYS GENEROUS
George was always generous with his time and advice.
At the Sun he even wrote impassioned letters to Pierre-Karl Peladeau, our beloved Quebecor leader, offering what he acknowledged was impertinent advice on what P-K should be doing.
"I felt I had a duty to do so," George explained when I asked him.
"I hope he paid attention," I said.
"I doubt it," said George.
And now he is gone.
Larger than life, I miss him greatly, but feel fortunate he died so quickly and apparently painlessly. Still, it's not easier for those he left behind -- especially son, George, daughter, Teddy, and his wonderful, gallant wife, Elizabeth, who, in her life, has put up with a lot from this old scallywag.
****
The Baron a friend to all
No matter where you go, what you cover, George Gross' reach is felt
By STEVE SIMMONS
http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Columnists...f-5075926.html
The woman was staring at me, or so I thought. We were sitting in the press conference room at Wimbledon, when finally she approached with a smile.
"You're from the Toronto Sun, aren't you?" she said, peering at the press credential around my neck. "Please say hi to George for me."
It was always that way with George Gross.
It was something a lot of us in the industry got used to.
It didn't matter if it was Switzerland or Sweden, the French Alps or Australia, the Orient or the former Soviet Union. It didn't matter which event of consequence it happened to be -- the world track and field championships or Wimbledon or the world hockey championships or the world figure skating championships -- you usually got that tap on the shoulder or that friendly handshake.
Someone wanting to pass on greetings and well wishes to George Gross.
It seemed like everybody who was anybody knew him. The commissioners. The presidents. The heads of the federations. The PR people. The working journalists. All of them a little poorer today, a little sadder knowing The Baron has passed on at the age of 85.
It doesn't seem quite real, yet. It can't seem real that he is not with us anymore. The man was such a presence in our daily work, the father figure we would turn to on occasion, asking for advice. The sage old uncle who had been there and done that. The crazy, cranky oldtimer who refused to quit. At 85, he was as turned-on by a news beat as he ever was. That part never left him.
LAST SCOOP
The final front-page story -- the last great George Gross scoop -- came not that long ago. It was a rare one-on-one interview with Mats Sundin prior to the NHL trade deadline. It was the most expressive Sundin has been on the subject.
It was Gross, typically in jacket, shirt and tie, eating at the expensive steak house, getting someone to say something he wouldn't tell anyone else: A journalist who loved nothing better than to pull out his Rolodex, summon up a contact no one else could find, and show us kids how it was done. Just like the old days.
And, like most journalistic lifers, he worked right to his final day. In the office on Thursday, gone by Friday. Leaving a book he was working on incomplete, leaving a column for tomorrow's paper an idea unfinished, leaving behind an assignment of interviews he was preparing for a piece to run next month.
BUILDER
Leaving behind a legacy as a builder of sport, newspaper, industry leader, and not to be forgotten or short-changed, was his love of a good meal, a great hotel and an even better bottle of wine.
George Gross lived the life and then some. At differing times, and of a different generation, he wrote the story and sometimes was part of the story. He grew up, as Paul Beeston pointed out yesterday, "when writers were as much a part of the team as the players were ... I don't think Punch Imlach ever changed lines or made a trade without consulting with George first."
This has been a rough time for the sports media in Canada. In a rather brief period, too many have gone. We have lost Milt Dunnell and Don Wittman and Don Chevrier and Pat Marsden and Jim Hunt, and now George.
Each of them different but each of them valuable and relevant and unique.
As others will point out, and Godfrey certainly did yesterday, George Gross was a Canadian success story. He was an immigrant who escaped from Czechoslovakia, came to Canada, learned English, made a life for himself and his family as a journalist and refused to retire. At an age when most of us would rather be on a beach or worrying about short games, George wanted none of that. He'd roll up his sleeves, get involved in his next story or his next organization or his next cause or charitable act -- and there were many of each -- because the only world he knew was work.
And everybody in it, around the world, seemed to know him.
---
"George combined elegance and eloquence. His unique ability to tell a story earned him renown, and friends, around the world."
Gary Bettman, NHL commissioner
"He epitomized what a true gentleman really is. He was someone I admired profusely."
Cliff Fletcher, Leafs GM
"He was the go-to guy for contacts. He always saw the lighter and brighter side of life. Nobody lived life better than George."
Paul Godfrey, Blue Jays president
"There wasn't a more proud Canadian."
Paul Beeston, former Blue Jays president
"His love of soccer and hockey ... was topped only by his passion for writing about them."
Dave Hodge, broadcaster
"You'll never have a better friend. He seemed to remember everybody and they remembered him."
Bill Stephenson, broadcaster
"When I became commissioner, his advice, to 'just be yourself' has been extremely helpful."
Mark Cohon, CFL commish
. Not too many of the old guard left.
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