The missed legend of 1974.
All season long BYU honored its 1974 football team’s 50th anniversary, but it did so without a handful of players who have died in the ensuing decades, including defensive star Keith Rivera. He who took his own life on Jan. 19, 2021.
Rivera was an undersized 6-foot-2, 225-pound defensive end from Las Vegas. He should have played linebacker, but coaches wanted him to be a rush end. He had a motor. He played with a red-hot intensity, which pleased his position coach, the late Fred Whittingham. He joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints while at BYU, where he met his wife, Victoria Rencher.
Once dubbed “Mad Dog” Rivera, the late Deseret News sports columnist Hack Miller credited Rivera as an instrumental voice in a passionate locker room plea for him and his teammates to turn the season around after three straight losses, the last of which was a 34-7 defeat to Iowa State.
“I didn’t come here to lose,” Rivera said to his teammates. He told them they could do an about-face and become winners, circling the locker room and hugging his friends.
There were tears wiped away from that loss. Rivera helped reignite players to see themselves as winners. That team never lost another game until the Fiesta Bowl in Tempe, Arizona, the first-ever postseason bowl appearance by the Cougar program.
That 1974 team, say many, laid the foundation of what became a Hall of Fame career by head coach LaVell Edwards. It was Edwards’ first WAC championship team.
Rivera went on to earn All-WAC first-team honors and later made the All-WAC 15-year All-Star team. He has been listed as one of the top 100 players in BYU football history. They called it LaVell Edwards’ Dream Team.
Running back Jeff Blanc was Rivera’s teammate, who kept close ties to Rivera over the years. His memories are golden.
The origins of Mad Dog
“I remember Keith would go over to a goalpost before a game and hit his head on it. I asked what in the heck he was doing and he’d say he was just getting up for the game. It was stuff like this why we called him Mad Dog,” said Blanc.
“He liked to hit and he never backed down,” Blanc said of Rivera. “He also had a temper that ran hot. We did this All-American drill and we were supposed to go half speed. I’d go up against Keith and he’d knock me on my can every time. He’d knock me into next week.
“I asked him what he was doing, we were supposed to go half speed and he’d just smile. I asked coach Fred Whittingham all the time, isn’t this supposed to be half-speed?”
Blanc remembers during the weeks leading up to that Fiesta Bowl that he and Rivera decided to go duck hunting near Blanc’s hometown of Boise. They piled into Rivera’s Volkswagon for the long drive up I-15 to I-I4 in Idaho. Blanc was sleeping when a state trooper pulled them over and gave Rivera a ticket for speeding.
“What’s going on,” said Blanc after coming to?
“I guess I was going too fast, 15 over the speed limit,” said Rivera.
Not long after passing Burley, Idaho, another trooper pulled them over and Rivera got another ticket for speeding. This time he was ordered to stop at a weigh station and pay the fine.
Blanc was still trying to sleep when once again a third highway patrolman pulled over Rivera’s VW. He asked why they hadn’t stopped and paid the fine at the weigh station.
“I guess I missed it,” said Rivera. They were ordered to turn around and go back and pay the fine. They obliged.
When they got to Boise, Rivera told Blanc he needed to pay half the fines for the tickets.
“Why? I was asleep. You got the tickets.”
“Well,” said Mad Dog, “you are paying half.”
Blanc can’t remember if he ever paid half of all those tickets.
“Can you believe it? We got stopped three times that day — in a VW.”
A sad ending
Rivera’s death was a tragedy.
It came during the COVID-19 pandemic. He was 68. He should have been enjoying the fruits of a storied life.
After leaving BYU, Rivera ended up working as a financial wealth advisor. He was a consummate people person who loved entertaining, visiting and making money for his clients in a high-pressure business. He worked with Dean Witter, which later became Morgan Stanley.
“This was a business he knew nothing about,” said his brother-in-law Pete Rencher. “Yet, he became one of the top producers in the company, nationally recognized for his attention to detail, tenacity and commitment to excellence.
“Keith’s clients were more than just clients. They were his best friends and comrades, whose financial well-being Keith managed with great care and concern.”
Many were millionaires who trusted him.
The Riveras moved to Alaska, where Vicki worked in media and promotions. He flew deep into Alaska in one of those small explorer planes and met with indigenous people to help them build wealth from their investments. They later moved to Redmond, Oregon, Vicki’s hometown, where he continued his career with Union Bank of Switzerland. He was an accomplished guitarist and horseman.
Rivera’s success grew, his financial fortunes skyrocketed. He built a mansion on a hill outside Bend, Oregon, and the master bedroom had part of an exposed rock cliff built right into the bedroom. Nike founder Phil Knight was a regular visitor in Rivera’s home, as were many of his friends and clients. Knight and Rivera were regular golfing partners.
According to Blanc, one day Knight was at Rivera’s mansion and saw the bedroom, the cliff, the views outside of a meadow and the brook going through it and said he wanted to buy the house. They were meeting to discuss how they’d break up the luxury box games they shared at Autzen Stadium for University of Oregon home games.
“It’s not for sale,” said Rivera of his house.
“Everything’s for sale for the right money,” said Knight.
Rivera ended up selling his home to Knight and it became one of his seven houses. Rivera then bought another house. He died at his home at Brasada Ranch, Oregon.
Blanc often went to Rivera’s hometown of Las Vegas to see him and golf. They were taken care of at the MGM, where Rivera’s father had a long career in the casino business.
One day Rivera noticed Blanc was playing with an ancient set of Ping irons.
“Hey, why don’t you buy some new irons, you’d probably play better.”
“I can’t afford $1,500 for new irons,” replied Blanc.
Rivera ended up buying Blanc some new Ping irons and kept them for him in Bend so when he came to town he could use them when they played.
COVID-era struggles
During COVID-19 lockdowns, Rivera struggled to sleep.
“It got to the point his insomnia went on for days,” said Rencher. “His attempt to get help came with mixed results. Some days were better than others. Some days he got a good night’s rest, some nights he got no rest. But over time it began to take its toll, leading to other issues.”
According to those who knew him well, the once-gregarious Rivera began to withdraw. He became wary of meeting with people because he feared they would judge him for being a little weird. As the pandemic gripped the nation and more and more isolation was demanded, limiting meetings, Rivera began working remotely from home — the total opposite of what his entire life was about. That dragged him down emotionally, mentally and spiritually.
“The dinners, meetings and the associations in which Keith thrived were greatly restricted,” said Rencher. Keith was limited to virtual meetings on computers and phone calls as UBS closed its offices.
The family noticed little things from the past that were considered insignificant, became troublesome to Keith.
“The vitriol and anger generated by the elections, the threat of contracting the virus, an escalating stock market, which created concern for potential loss for clients, personal health problems … all of these became a great concern for Keith. Everyday issues in business and relationships that for years were handled with ease, became huge, insurmountable mountains for Keith.”
Rencher said Keith recognized something was wrong, but it was tough for him to seek help.
A former teammate, Larry Carr, had always been in touch with Rivera and it was his concern that Keith was suffering from the effect of having concussions as a football player; Carr had experienced some of the same issues. Carr advised his friend to get in contact with some of the same resources he had worked with.
Deseret News columnist Lee Benson interviewed Carr about CTE and in this column Carr referenced Rivera’s struggles that he believed were from traumatic brain injuries.
Missing
Blanc remembers just before Rivera’s death, he was in the Cascade mountains outside of cell range. When he got back he had messages and missed calls from Rivera who was desperately trying to get in touch with him.
“He was angry and very upset that I wasn’t able to talk to him,” said Blanc. “I knew he was not doing well.”
Reluctantly, Rivera finally agreed to meet with his personal physician in Bend. On Jan. 19, 2021, Vicki got up to get ready for the doctor visit with Keith.
“Keith was a notoriously early riser and was not there when Vicki got up. As time for departure drew near, Vicki looked around the house and could not find Keith. Thinking he’d gone out for an early-morning walk, she looked down the street. Still, no Keith,” said Rencher.
Believing Keith had gone out to wait for her in the car, Vicki went to the garage. There she found Keith. Unable to cope with all that overpowered him, tragically he had chosen to end his life.
Blanc, a retired law enforcement officer in Boise, said Rencher had gone through the entire house and collected all the guns he could find weeks before Rivera’s death.
“Apparently there was one he didn’t find,” said Blanc.
According to Rencher, ever since his BYU career, Rivera remained a faithful BYU fan and lived and died with their successes and failures, wins and losses. He witnessed the rise of Edwards’ program and the BYU brand established under him, built on that first WAC championship team of 1974.
“He would have gone nuts seeing BYU get to 9-0 and then lose those two games,” said Rencher.
Rivera attended the funeral of Edwards in Provo Jan. 6, 2017, and met with his former teammates, trainers, coaches and friends. He did not graduate from BYU because he lacked a few classes. His family encouraged him to get his degree so he would be eligible for the school’s athletic hall of fame.
Rivera told folks he’d like to get that done, but he never finished those classes.
He remained close to his teammates, perhaps the closest was Blanc.
Mad Dog would have been there before BYU’s first game of 2024, where his 1974 squad was honored because, say those who know him best, it would have meant everything to him.
Rivera stories could fill a book. His client trips to Alaska, his golf antics, his adventures, his hopes, dreams, aspirations and struggles.
It might be said Mad Dog got more out of his life than most men ever would or could. His life is also the story of a football player, our modern-day gladiators, who put their bodies on the line in the football citadels that dot our land. We’ll never fully understand the toll of the physical violence they endure for our entertainment and thrills.
Rivera remains a storied legend in BYU lore. A seat at the table that should have been filled on this 50th anniversary of that season.
• • •
Some of those on that 1974 BYU WAC championship team who have died include coach LaVell Edwards, 2016; assistant coach Dick Felt, 2012; assistant coach Fred Whittingham, 2003; assistant coach Tom Ramage, 2023; Dave Meteer, OT, 1984; Dave Campos, DB, 1991; Dev Duke, K, 2001; Gary Petersen, DT, 2011; Todd Christensen, RB, 2013; Marcus Kanahele, DE, 2013; Sam Lobue, WR, 2015; Stan Varner, DE, 2018; Mark Terranova, DB, 2020; Keith Rivera, DE, 2021, Mark McCluskey, DB, 2001; Frank Linford, LB, 2022; and Phil Jensen, LB, 2022.
If you or someone you know is in crisis, please contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988 or chatting online at 988lifeline.org. Other online resources include NAMI Utah: namiut.org; American Foundation for Suicide Prevention: afsp.org; Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: 988lifeline.org.