Jeffrey Stocker, or, as those of us called him when he “transitioned,” Geoff!
He is and most likely will be my longest known friend, at times frenemy – especially on the basketball Court. Fifty years - we went from junior college through grad schools (different schools) first “real” jobs to careers, relationships, marriages, kids and his retirement – and bikes.
Geoff and I both blame Ted Gosen – Ted pawned me off on Geoff soon after we started at Ohlone. That was the beginning of Geoff’s downfall. He became my ride in that immense International Harvester. Suddenly I was dragged into the Stocker-Gosen softball games, I was shooting hoops with him at the local park running roughshod over those “old guys” who had been playing there for years. We even did the drag past Washington when that was still a thing.
Geoff convinced big-bro Andy “Army” to act as our muscle on the Ohlone basketball Court, rebounder extreme and then chasing down and “enforcing” a 12 pack bet when we outhustled some wanna-be hustlers on the court.
Geoff acted as driver for the water-polo team and the main memory I still have is our sudden fear and anxiety with the sudden explosion of van widows in the back of the van when we saw flashing lights – thrown open by the swimmers to let the smoke out when we saw lights.
Geoff also acted as driver for an Ohlone summer “class” back when PE was required – a group bike ride from Fremont down to San Luis Obispo. He drove but I think the bike bug was beginning to hit. He introduced me to TOGOs on a trip to Santa Cruz!
We, along with Ted, were the original Ofernighters! We were not the smooth movers at Ohlone we dreamed to be – probably because we spent too much time in the gym – and then Geoff got that perm that became so “popular” - yeah - that happened.
I also became Geoff’s escape hatch! Clever, clever Geoff - invite me to the house, sit me down at that kitchen table and run upstairs - wait for Queen Margo to sit down to start a conversation… hours later, once she was taking a breather, Geoff would reappear and we could go – wherever. Or the time when my dad and I came over because the family was pouring a concrete pad in the back… Geoff was gone soon after my dad and I got working with the rest of the family. I think he told me later he was shooting hoops because we all had it covered.
We shoveled red rock landscaping during summer months with Terry Lee, Kenny LaRussa and Hal Schulmayer. Geoff and company handcuffed me to a tree in the courtyard one day when they went off for lunch. Geoff explained the reasoning later - we were doing the red rock at an apartment complex in Modesto near a junior college and they thought I, as a captive audience, would be forced to talk to any of the college girl residents at the complex passing by at lunch. Then those young ladies would of course want to talk to the guys who locked me up. Flaw in the reasoning? How many folk actually want to talk to someone in handcuffs?
Geoff, Kenny and I worked at Harrah’s Lake Tahoe one summer and became “boy toys” for two young ladies who were visiting from Redlands (with their parents so it wasn’t sordid). And Geoff got to shake the hand of Gerald Ford when Ford was visiting the resort while we were there. We all crowded against the ropes of his path and Geoff was the one to reach out for a handshake – always one step quicker that guy.
While Geoff was at CSUN and Adrian started attending – I finally learned how to drive and I became the ride Geoff had been for me during JC. I am sure Adrian remembers sitting in the back when I look to the side at Geoff and then in the rearview where Adrian has a blindfold on and a dangling faux cigarette as he says – “I’m ready.” And of course me driving into town on the freeway hitting a carpet square which Geoff quickly “corrects” saying, “no, I think it was a dog – and it was just raising its head.” IT WAS NOT A DOG!
After undergrad for me, I continued working at a bike shop in Westwood and Geoff let me stay with him in San Pedro. I rode back and forth to work but after I got a second road bike we both started weekend riding from San Pedro, up Portuguese Bend, through King Harbor, Manhattan Beach, Dockweiler, Venice, Santa Monica, Sunset to Malibu. A pretzel and beer on the pier at King Harbor on the way back was our stop – we needed the mineral replacement. And the visions on that bike path – dolphins swimming in the waves with the sun shining through. We lived the life.
I went off to grad school and I came back for the summers after working during school at the Saddle Rack when it was in San Jose. Geoff let me stay with him but now I was getting grief for being a “country” guy. He laughed his head off. But Geoff did join me in going to JR’s (later Cowboy Palace) and a few other country places making jokes about us being “Lonesome Dove’s.”
After grad school I came back down and eventually Geoff and his roommates (Frank, Barry and I think their mate who became a chiropractor) let me stay with them in their red-tagged home from the Northridge Quake, but what do I find? Geoff and Frank in cowboy hats and part time residents at every country place that had an electronic dart board – both dancing (some) and both having country honeys! Geoff introduced me to In Cahoots where I met the lady who became my wife.
We continued to hang when we could – especially for Jethawks games up in the Antelope Valley. He and I were both still riding our bikes although I only made one trip down to ride with him around Pasadena. We even designed cycling jerseys for our birthdays (67 and 68) Oddly, now I do a vintage bike ride from the Rose Bowl every month.
Geoff was always there when I needed a hand. He wasn’t the best at returning calls, or texts, but I could count on him when I had to. He, Andy, Adrian and Ernie are brothers from another Mother. Geoff is and was the connection to my growth from adolescent to adult, to old gentlemen. Silly things come to mind when thinking of life with Geoff, like Ofernights, Small Midwestern College, “Mistake” (from the silly “Earl” movies), lines from Richard Pryor, reggae music, darts, basketball elbows, ambidextrous shooting, his number lists, beach rides, pretzel and beer. He will be missed and he will be remembered.
