Bruce Woodbury retired this week. Another baby boomer hung 'em up. Not because he had to, because he could. Woody won't even be 60 until his next birthday, but he put in 35 straight years working for the University of Utah, and say what you want about the pay scale in education, if you take care of them, they take care of you.
Woody was going to be a sportswriter after the U. awarded him a journalism degree in 1972. But an opening came up in the sports information office, he took it, and found himself on the other side of the media divide. He spent his 35 years in media and public relations, trying to make journalists and the coaches and athletes at Utah happy. Every year, he had like 14,000 bosses.
He had no idea how good he would be at what he did. Even today, as it dawns on him that 35 years shot by about as fast as Urban Meyer's Ute tenure, I suspect he doesn't.
Woody was an instinctive natural at P.R., and it was all underpinned by one fundamental quality: He was an incurable Good Guy. He liked people. He was good to everyone. It didn't matter if it was Dick Vitale or Dick Harmon, they got the same treatment. In 35 years, I never saw him big-time anyone.
Other than that, his image was almost anti-P.R. He was like Jim Furyk's golf swing: Hey, that's not supposed to work.
I never once, for example, heard Woody tell anyone to "Have a nice day." He was not one to gush. He did not nurture. He didn't pick up every tab. He certainly was not one to hold journalists' hands and do their job for them.
Neither did I ever see him criticize someone for what they wrote or broadcast or, for that matter, tell anyone what they should write or broadcast. He lived and let live.
Sometimes, during games, he would forget his position entirely and watch the action as avidly as any fan.
But always, when it was over, as I remember from my sportswriting days, Woody would make his pass through the press room.
"Hey Bens," he'd say, "got everything you need?"
"I need a column," I'd invariably answer, and Woody would respond unfailingly with his trademark eye-roll.
One of my favorite Woody recollections was at a party held at a cabin in Mill Creek Canyon prior to the start of another sports year. Woody was cooking the steaks and a bunch of sportswriters got in line to be served.
When they arrived at the front of the line, some would say they wanted theirs cooked rare, others medium, others well done.
I watched as Woody repeatedly and without fail served them the steak from the top of the pile.
I commented on this amazing coincidence.
"Aw," Woody shrugged, "they won't know the difference."
That was vintage Woodbury. He didn't sweat the small stuff even before someone coined the cliche.
For 35 years he worked like that, crossing through the doors of the Huntsman Center and reporting for duty more times than any single human being, treating anyone and everyone in his fair and inimitable style.
He may not have thought it would add up, he may not have thought anyone noticed, but Wednesday night at Rice-Eccles Stadium a few of his closest friends decided to surprise him on the eve of his retirement.
The press box on the sixth level was as packed as a Utah-BYU game. Hundreds showed up as Woody was showered with gifts, tributes and, in a total table-turning for a guy who spent his career making others look good, a video presentation of his life and career prepared by former Ute basketball great Manny Hendrix.
"I keep looking around for the casket," said an embarrassed and overwhelmed Woody when he stood up to speak. "But I can't find it."
One of the great things about retiring early.
Lee Benson's column runs Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Please send e-mail to benson@desnews.com and faxes to 801-237-2527.