Once he sat in a chair while several hundred people watched Billy Donovan mousse his hair to match the ‘do that the Florida basketball coach was rocking back in those days.
Another time, over a decade ago, Donovan forced Augie Greiner to wear a dress because the founder of the Ocala Gator Tipoff Club didn’t have any female members in the group.
Year after year at the annual tip-off dinner, Donovan and Greiner made sport of each other, all in the name of good fun, all in the name of raising money for basketball scholarships. All in the name of the team and school they both loved so deeply and for which Augie played basketball in the 1950s.
They took turns being the foil. And they played it like two kids in a game of oneupsmanship – with great fun and glee. I don’t know which of them enjoyed it the most.
When it was Augie’s turn, he dressed Donovan in a “Billy The Kid” outfit. Another year, assistant head coach Larry Shyatt announced the appearance of a brand new recruit, “Gunner,” and Greiner came out wearing a Gator uniform, dribbling a basketball with one hand and leaning on a cane (for real) with the other.
There was always a prank.
They raffled off autographed basketballs and trips with the team for money to support the program – reportedly raising enough for four scholarships over time.
When the bidding dragged and it came time to sweeten the pot, Donovan would “throw in” a suit from Greiner’s, the Ocala store founded by Augie – without permission—and sometimes a pair of shoes, tie and shirt, while Augie feigned anguish.
The real capper, though, came when Augie would look out into the audience at the bidders for a signed basketball at, say, around the $500 level, see his wife Sue bidding on it – Donovan cheering her on. The crowd always loved Augie’s Jack Benny deadpan, followed by a “Sssuuuuuuuee!!???”
These were the best of times for nearly 15 years, but they couldn’t last forever, and didn’t after Augie Greiner got sick. When his illness got the best of him and weakened his condition, Greiner rallied in time for the Ocala Gator Tipoff Dinner and soldiered on through the pain, because Billy Donovan was coming to town and the fun was about to resume. Sometimes it gave Augie the energy to keep going.
Despite all he did for Gator basketball, Greiner despised it when anybody tried to pay him a compliment. He considered a sarcastic remark from Donovan a badge of honor. But on the night of the last tipoff club dinner, with Augie weakened and struggling to sit there at the dais, Donovan took the mic and said: “I’ve been around a lot of clubs like this, but none better. And the reason is this man right here, Augie Greiner.”
A standing ovation broke out for a good 20 seconds.
My guess is that Augie hated taking the credit, which was the case for anything he ever did. I know he hated the attention.
* * *
Every coach who came to Florida since the days of Norm Sloan 30 years ago learned to appreciate, admire and love Augie Greiner, who wasn’t some rich booster throwing money around to impress people. He wanted nothing but to advance the cause of Gator hoops.
Augie was a grass-roots guy who backed up his passion for his school with the elbow grease and heavy lifting kind of support. He built the tip-off club one member at a time. He pitched Gator basketball like P. T. Barnum pitched the circus, and sometimes he could make you believe it was.
Florida basketball wasn’t “The Greatest Show on Earth” just yet when Sloan first came down to Ocala and met with basketball fans at breakfast. There were six people at that first meeting, counting the two of them. That number grew to more than 300 and a sold-out dinner each year with Donovan and his staff in attendance.
In fact, Augie liked to tell the story about the day Sloan came into Greiner’s of Ocala looking for him, only to meet up with Augie’s business partner. Sloan extended his hand and introduced himself. “And what is it that you do, Norm?” his partner reportedly said.
Nobody ever had to ask Billy Donovan that question, because he is known for winning back-to-back national championships. But they can never accuse Augie Greiner of being a bandwagon jumper, because he was just as ardent a fan back when making the NCAA tournament was considered a monster achievement for the program.
He loved those Gators as much then as he would today. The only thing he loved as much – beside his family – was certain kinds of food. Fried bologna being one, hamburgers being another and Dairy Queen ice cream another. Once on a holiday weekend he made me drive 11 miles just for a Frosty.
The perfect event for Augie was the 2000 Final Four in Indianapolis. Donovan’s Gators were playing in the finals against Michigan State, and seemingly there was a Steak ‘n Shake on every other corner. Sometimes we would eat lunch and dinner there.
It was like heaven for him.
Kruger was one of his favorites and Augie hated to see him leave. I remember the day 15 years ago when Billy was hired, looking like a youthful graduate assistant, and it was in question as to whether Augie’s tip-off club would continue. “He may not want to do it,” Greiner said, “ and that’s fine – we’ve had a good run.” But I could sense the inflection of disappointment in his voice.
Donovan not only did it, but did with more flare and commitment, and the camaraderie between the two men sparked a special bond.
Greiner was a regular at basketball practice and enjoyed meeting and knowing the players, a few of which he adopted. Being a shooter himself, he loved Lee Humphrey of the 2006-07 national championship teams. Before that it was David Lee of the 2001-05 teams. One of his very favorites was Dan Werner, who went cold as a shooter the last two years, with Augie agonizing over every miss. “Keep shooting, Dan,” he would say. “Keep shooting.”
Augie was not shy about offering them a little coaching, whether telling them to “shoot the ball more,” or “develop your jump shot.” And, remarkably, Donovan let him get away with it. In fact, Billy let him get away with a lot, whether Augie was chiding him for being a few minutes late or admonishing him to stay away from the idea of going to Kentucky so he could “build your own legacy.”
Greiner was Donovan’s fashion advisor and would help him pick out ties, which Greiner’s of Tampa supplied. Augie would also go into Billy’s closet and coordinate outfits, a talent which generations of Ocalans often benefited and enjoyed.
* * *
When he got off the plane at the Gainesville Airport in 1951, seeing the state Florida for the first time, the skinny freshman from St. Louis asked the cab driver where all the palm trees were. And when he wanted to know the way to the beach, the cabbie said, “That way”—pointing east—“eighty miles.”
He played under John Mauer four years, developing the reputation as someone who never met a shot he didn’t like. He joked about it. “Sometimes,” Augie would say, “my own teammates would start guarding me before we got off the bus.”
Although he only averaged about six points, he had some big games with flurries of buckets, some of which led him to the honor of being named the only Gator Bowl Basketball Tournament MVP as a freshman.
Eventually he graduated and moved to Ocala, where he stuck his roots down so deep that he felt like a native. He never left and as a result the impact of his footprint forever changed the landscape. He coached youth baseball, basketball and tennis and played city league softball and basketball while teaching grade school. It was there in a few city league games that I got a glimpse of Augie the Bomber on nights when he’d score half a hundred for Tomlinson’s Men Shop.
Then he got together enough money one day – actually it wasn’t enough, but he made it stretch – to realize the dream of founding Greiner’s Men Shop.
It was a challenge at first. On slow days if he hadn’t made a sale, he’d buy a pair of socks himself and then return them the next day. Soon, though, his sense of Ivy League fashion taste caught on and families began to dress their young sons – and sometimes their dads – in khakis or seersucker or polo shirts or saddle oxfords. He not only dressed several generations, he changed the culture of the town and his stores become some of the most successful specialty shops in the South.
As a civic leader he help start many sporting events – including high school and college holiday basketball tournaments – but he never abandoned the kids, pioneering a church league with real uniforms and officials. He took up many charitable causes.
Meanwhile, he became a mentor to many and young men went on from part-timers at Greiner’s to successful business careers. One of them, Kent Guinn, is current president of the Ocala City Council.
* * *
In the final days, when I would come and sit with him at bedside in his home, I marveled at his dignity and grace. And I learned from it. He never complained, except to say how angry he was at himself for not going to the doctor all those years for a prostate checkup. When he finally did, the PSA numbers told the grim story. Yet he outlived expectations by at least six months and maybe a year, sometimes sleeping for days at a time. Catching him awake was a treat and we often reminisced.
Others came, too, but visitors were limited. One was his old Gator basketball teammate and captain, Bob Emrick, who drove up from Orlando every week and sat three or four hours, even when Augie wasn’t always communicative. He loved Emrick and in one of his last conversations with me said he couldn’t understand while Emrick wasn’t in the UF Athletic Hall of Fame. (Augie was, by the way, but mostly for his contributions after graduation.)
On occasion he would go for a spin with a friend like Mack Dunwoody, or we would go for lunch when he was up for it. On one of our trips last July, despite the scorching temperature, he was feeling so good that we decided to go for a Dairy Queen make-your-own Coke float. Once out of the car – I was watching closely to guard against him falling – Augie’s legs began to tremble and he starting leaning. I quickly tackled him like a linebacker, pinned him against the car and yelled for help. In seconds three women were there to help and I was on the phone dialing 911 and calling his wife.
He kept insisting he was fine, though clearly he was not, but when the medics tried to get him to go with them to the hospital he refused. I whispered in the ear of the driver than he was a terminal patient and wanted to go home, so he signed the form and the ambulances pulled away.
“Now,” said Augie, “I want my Coke float.” He consumed two of them.
* * *
On Friday, after funeral mass at Blessed Trinity Catholic Church in Ocala and graveside services, some of us will gather to celebrate the 76 years of Augie Greiner and regale each other with stories of his remarkable life. He leaves behind his wife, three sons, a daughter and eight grandkids.
I am thinking instead or raising our mugs or glasses in his honor that we should hoist a milk shake or a Coke float, maybe nibble on a little fried bologna. And sing a round of “We Are The Boys From Old Florida.” I will miss him terribly, as will his close friends, but come next basketball season, probably nobody will miss him more than Billy Donovan.
No doubt heaven looks a little like Indianapolis, with a Steak ‘n Shake on every corner, and the Gators playing a Final Four every day – this time beating Michigan State like a drum every night.