Hey Matt. Sorry to hear about Coach. I cried. Havent seen him in 25 or so years and it hit me hard. Just like he did as my most influential coach of my career. And i had some hall of fame coaches. He was the best. Amazing how he got us to do things his way. He made us all tough as nails. We were never outworked by our opponents. Matt your Dad was also a Dad to thousands of young people and had a profound affects on so many. God bless you and your family. RIP Coach. I Love You. Jon

I first knew George as a coach. He was a legend in the world of girl’s AAA high school soccer. Under his guidance, Snohomish was always a feared opponent. George’s teams embodied his personality; hard-nosed, hard-working, relentless, and passionate.

My freshman year of college, I fell madly in love with George’s son, Matt. And for the next 6 years, I had the privilege of spending every holiday, birthday, vacation, and weekend with the 2 of them. It was hard not to adore George. He was incredibly unique; I loved his competitiveness, his sense of adventure, his quirky sense of humor, his youthful spirit, and his self-discipline.

George loved sports and the outdoors. At the time, he was in his 50’s; but he ran circles around Matt & I. Coaching, soccer, golf, skiing, card games - whatever he did, he took it to the limit. He never missed an opportunity to take us camping, fishing, water skiing, sledding, hiking. He was always up for an adventure.

George was a feisty straight shooter. He would sit in the stands during my college soccer games keeping our opponent and the referee in check. “You booger eating moron, pull your head out of your ass!” Awkward? Sometimes. Hilarious? Often. Honest? Always.

George was the epitome of charisma. Rough on the outside sugar sweet on the inside. Whatever and whomever he loved; he loved them completely. He was an inch wide and mile deep. To his loved ones, he gave them his absolute everything. Giving, almost to a fault.  

George had a unique and beautiful relationship with Matt. Thick as thieves. Father & son, but also best friends. I will never forget the sound of those two -- gut laughing. George and Matt; they didn’t just smile with their mouth – their entire face smiled when laughed. It was entirely contagious.

George, you were like a second father to me. Your love, support, and friendship will forever live inside my heart. I am eternally grateful for our time together. I will be seeing you someday and when I do, it is game on. I want a cribbage tournament rematch and another one of your grilled burgers. ;)

RIP my sweet & sour. Thank you for the cherished memories.

Sheralyn

Thank you Matt for being such a dedicated son for your father, George Fowler. Reading through the comments on your Facebook page, I see how he touched so many lives over the years. And of course he touched mine. As high school and college buddies, he and I (and the third of our group, Skip Failor) were rarely apart during those years. So many memories of George are indelible with me: awkward teenage years in Bellingham, WA; working together one summer on a commercial purse sein fishing boat in SE Alaska; breaking away to Seattle for the World’s Fair, to California for the 1962 Rose Bowl, to Portland for a Joan Baez concert; to rugby matches at other colleges; occasional weekend keg parties; and just “hanging” with a man I always admired and respected.

Skip and I called him by his childhood nickname, “Jig” which he grumbled about but secretly liked. Jig was a thoughtful and sometimes impulsive young man. Strong not just physically but emotionally. I talked him into going mountain climbing with me in the Cascades when we were juniors in college, but he ran into a serious, life-threatening situation. Near the summit, he fell on the glacier and careened downward, out of control--stopping literally (I’m not exaggerating) with his boots hanging over the lip of a very deep crevasse. When I reached him, I realized that he hadn’t been able to arrest his slide using his ice axe because he had dislocated his shoulder in the fall. Big problem. Once I got him off the glacier and secured on solid ground, I ran down the mountain to get help from the Forest Service for an evacuation. After many hours getting the rescue team back up slope to evacuate Jig, guess who we encountered on the high trail of the mountain? Jig! He had a somewhat sheepish look on his face and said “What’s up?” He was able to secured his arm to his side somehow and was walking slowly back down, steady and determined—but slower than usual. That was so George. And that’s the buddy I will always miss.