BAHOF CEREMONY SPURS WARM MEMORIES, SOFT TEARS
By Mike Tupa
Bartlesville Area Sports Report Column
As the 2024 Bartlesville Athletic Hall of Fame (BAHOF) Induction Celebration is almost on top of us — it starts at 6:30 p.m. Friday (Sept. 27) at the Bartlesville Community Center — nostalgia and gratitude stir some very special memories for me.
Bob Pomeroy has truly been a blessing and a friend in my life for the past two decades. I don’t recall too much person-to-person interaction with Bob during my first decade in Bartlesville. But I got to know Bob better through his work with the Bartlesville Sports Commission, which started in 2007.
I’ve witnessed him bless Bartlesville with a tireless devotion —he might have tired, or exhausted at times but he never showed it as he kept doggedly attacking some assignment or need until he achieved it. I don’t mean to discount or lessen the efforts of others — it takes many dedicated wonderful people to achieve great things, but Bob was on the leading edge of many of these efforts.
Most people familiar with the Bartlesville Sports Commission and the town’s recent sports history already know the invaluable roles Bob played in helping make a success of the NCAA-II basketball tournaments we hosted for 13 years or in raising the standards of the BAHOF and its induction process. I believe he’s been involved in many, many other positive efforts to serve individuals and the community, both in sports and else-wise.
Bob has been so kind to me during these past many years. As my health has declined and mobility impacted, he has been sensitive to helping me overcome some of the challenges. He was extremely supportive of my selection in 2019 to be inducted into the BAHOF and throughout the process of getting there — along with a handful of other wonderful people.
He has worked very hard to maintain his health and energy and to be able to serve in so many ways.
When I think of Cassie Consedine, my mind tumbles back to the early 2000’s when she was a freshman. I recall the first time I saw her, at or near the 6-foot-3 height she would achieve. I was instantly impressed by her soft hands, her quick footwork and her endurance. This wasn’t a golden era for Bartlesville High School girls basketball, but Cassie made it infinitely brighter than it might otherwise have been.
I respect her service to our country, first as a midshipman at the Naval Academy and then during her subsequent military service.
Another special recollection ties me to Cassie. My former publisher Jerry Quinn, who has since passed away, drove me out one day somewhere west of Bartlesville to meet Cassie’s grandpa, who I believe Jerry hunted with. He was a wonderful man. His was not an easy life, but he helped impart values that helped Cassie develop into an outstanding person. Loving young ones and helping them mature into good human beings is the stuff of heroism, as far as I’m concerned.
I’ve appreciated much of my occasional encounters with Carol Green. I believe she’s also had a vital role in helping young children to become better people than they might have otherwise been.
One of my favorite memories involving Carol is when I sat in the press table in the Bruin Fieldhouse and looked to the second deck to the corner opposite me and seeing Carol and Marta Manning and Linda Dolezal sitting together on the very upper row. I noticed them chatting and smiling and laughing and occasionally even looking at the game! To me they were the prototype of what community sports spectatorship should be — a chance to rub shoulders with friends, to reminisce (or stretch the faces a bit) about their golden days of youth athletics and to support the newest generation of warriors wearing the school colors.
This recollection has been all the sweeter to me since Marta — my former landlady and close friend — has passed away. I’ve never again been able to look up in that corner of the arena without feeling a twinge of sadness, loneliness and gratitude.
There’s so many more personal recollections of so many other inductees through the years. But this is just a column not a book.
Of my own induction in 2019, I think back to that night as if something that was too wonderful to have really been true. I was surrounded at my table by some of my closest or most respected friends in the area — David and Summer Austin, Gerald Thompson, Joe and Joyce Gilbert — as well as my sister Pam, who flew in from Salt Lake City.
Pam passed away less than 20 months later. Her presence made that night perfect. She was a hero to me. Twice doctors diagnosed her with breast cancer. Each time she chose to undergo a full mastectomy.
Her deep level of personal honesty was such she refused to wear a prosthetic. She didn’t care what other people thought — either they accepted her for herself or they didn’t. Up until a week prior to her unexpected death — and despite numerous health challenges — she walked a mile each day to the bus/train stops that took her to work and then back home again. Even at age 63 she did that in all weather, from 100-degrees plus to 20-or-below. She had to walk to church, to do her grocery shopping, to get her hair cut. I suggested at times during those years we find her a used car but she felt if she did she would never force herself to get exercise. Even so, I wish I would have insisted more earnestly.
Despite her challenges, Pam retained an upbeat attitude overall. I’m sure it was harder on her then she let me know, but she didn’t gripe or focus on the negative. She just kept going, doing her best to be happy and hopeful. One incident stands out. During a church women’s activity, she fell off the stage and crashed headfirst onto the basketball court below. One might imagine the others in attendance immediately tended to her, fearing the worst as far as a head or spinal injury.
One of the wives’ husbands, who happened to be there as a chaperone, put her in a seated position and asked her a question to check on her consciousness. I have to couch this with an explanation that this happened not too long after Barack Obama — toward whom my sister, as a lifelong Republican, was not a fan— had been elected president. The man earnestly asked my sister, “Who is the president.” Even though she was still woozy my sister quipped: “Please don’t make me tell you that.”
She told me later someone had filmed the entire accident and put it online. Pam encouraged me to watch it, as she had many times. But I couldn’t. I could never stand to see anyone — especially someone I love — suffer some kind of painful accident.
Now she is gone. But the memory of her being with me to see me inducted into the BAHOF have hallowed this event in my heart — as well as watching dozens of people who I respect and admire take those steps up to the stage to accept their plaques and enjoy due honor and attention while proud family members and friends watch.