With all his heart, ‘Gondo’ was UNLV

Here comes the call from death again, being its ironic self. A fight had just broken out during the Wranglers playoff game Monday evening at the Orleans Arena when the news of Glen Gondrezick's passing arrived.

When we learned the man who always followed a heart that wasn't strong enough for him to trust had slipped away at age 53.

The fight on a slab of ice was between a 6-foot-5-inch, 230-pound defenseman from Las Vegas and a 5-8, 190-pound wing from Stockton. The little guy didn't back down. He kept swinging. Kept taking his shots.

''Gondo'' would have loved the skirmish. He might have even secretly pulled for the visiting player, for the Lilliputian fighting Gulliver, but never would have admitted to betraying a Las Vegas team.

He loved this city, loved its sports, and few in its history treasured UNLV basketball more.

Have you heard the line about the heart having reasons that reason does not understand?

I always took it to mean that you don't need a motive to love something unconditionally, that while others might view your deep affection as not making sense, you never feel less for it.

That was Glen Gondrezick and Rebels basketball.

That is an indescribable sense of loyalty.

His heart was the reason Gondo will forever own a place at the lead table of those whose lives have been forever altered by the city's leading sports program.

There's that ironic part again. What made him such an influential part of UNLV is the muscle that ultimately took him from us.

"I'm just sick about it," said Jerry Tarkanian, Gondrezick's college coach who received the news upon landing in Fresno. "I loved him so much. I'm just shocked. I thought he was doing OK. I'm devastated."

I didn't know Gondo particularly well and I don't know his three children at all.

But in the coming weeks, as sadness sets in and they begin in life without a father, it's my hope those closest to them will remind them how Dad faced a decade of heart disease and ultimately a transplant in September much as he did any opponent.

By continuing to take a charge and rise to his feet.

By always playing bigger than he was.

Gondo took four charges in that Final Four game against North Carolina in the 1976-77 season, UNLV's first trip to the national semifinals.

Each time, referee Irv Brown whistled a blocking foul on the Rebels' leading rebounder.

From that day to now, Gondo never uttered another word to Brown. He was that incensed. That angry. That upset those calls might have made the difference in a one-point loss.

That loyal to UNLV.

Do you know how rare it is at a major program to discover a player who remains as close to it as Gondo was?

It just doesn't happen that often, that a player departs for the NBA, manages to hustle and work and take those charges for six seasons and then returns to the school as a broadcast analyst for 17 years.

"Gondo had a special, special relationship with our program and the university," Rebels coach Lon Kruger said. "He tried his best to be objective (when broadcasting), but he always wanted us to do well and appreciated what we were trying to do. All of us, all Rebels fans, are very sad about his passing."

Programs retire jerseys and welcome players into their Halls of Fame for different reasons.

Some make it based purely on unbelievable skill.

Others must reach certain standards to be considered.

Gondo had the required numbers, all 1,311 points and probably just as many floor burns from diving for loose balls.

The teams he played on don't merely own a spot on the map that describes UNLV's rich basketball tradition. They drew the darn thing.

But perhaps when next season arrives and you take a moment to glance toward the Thomas & Mack Center rafters, you will see No. 25 hanging there and think of something beyond stats and records and number of wins.

You will see this: "Player, fan, broadcaster all in one," fellow UNLV radio voice Jon Sandler said of Gondo. "He did what he loved to do for the program he loved more than anything."

They say the heart will beat about 2.5 billion times during a lifetime that reaches age 66.

Glen Gondrezick fell short of the required years, but you figure his passion for the Rebels got him in the 2 billion range.

You don't need to explain that level of passion. You don't need a reason for it.

Only the heart truly understands.

Ed Graney can be reached at 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com