Iconic coach alive and still kicking at 90: ‘Linfield might as well be called Rutschman U’

Don and Ad Rutschman in front of the McMinnville house that has been home to Ad since 1972

McMINNVILLE — The mid-week lunch crowd at Golden Valley Brewery is bustling, but few of the customers seem to notice the sporting royalty in their midst. Then again, perhaps they are just giving Ad Rutschman some privacy as he dines with sons Don and Randy while conducting an interview with some guy holding a digital recorder.

There are legends at Linfield, and then there is Ad Rutschman, who occupies pole position on the Wildcats’ Mount Rushmore and is a revered patriarch of the campus community.

“Linfield might as well be called ‘Rutschman University,’ ” current Linfield head football coach Joseph Smith says.

This Saturday (October 30) is a big day on the Linfield sporting calendar. The seventh-ranked Wildcats (6-0 overall and 4-0 in Northwest play) entertain rival George Fox (4-2, 4-0) in a 1:30 p.m. encounter at Maxwell Field. And Rutschman — who still coaches Linfield’s kickoff return unit — will be honored as he celebrates his 90th birthday.

It will be a day of mixed emotions for George Fox head coach Chris Casey, who played for Rutschman and coached under him at Linfield for nine seasons (1985-93).

Rutschman “is the most impactful person I’ve been around in my life besides my parents,” says Casey, older brother of former Oregon State baseball coach Pat Casey.

There is little question that Ad is in excellent condition both mentally and physically for a man of his age.

“He’s still in great shape,” son Randy says. “I joke with people. They ask, ‘How’s your dad doing?’ I say, ‘I think I can take him, but he’d hurt me really bad.’ ”

“It’s pretty incredible he’s 90,” says Lewis & Clark head coach Jay Locey, who coached under Rutschman for five years at Linfield. “I could see him living to 100. He’s a healthy dude, smart and sharp.”

“It really is hard to believe,” says Smith, who played for Rutschman during his final three years as the Wildcats’ coach. “Coach is kind of ageless — seems like he hasn’t aged in the last 20 years. He’s so fit and demanding as a coach and sharp as can be. It’s awesome to watch him coach still.”

How does Ad feel about becoming a nonagenarian?

“The age I spent the most time thinking about was when I turned 50,” he says. “I remember thinking, ‘God, I’m getting old.’ And now, 90! Man … but I’m feeling good. I just don’t have the same energy.”

He has pretty darn good energy, though, I would say. I’d say damn good, except Ad rarely swears, so I’ve pledged myself to keep it clean in this piece.

Says Ad with a wink: “A player once told me, ‘I can’t believe how disciplined you are. I’ve never heard you say a cuss word on the football field. But I did hear a couple of them over the phone.’ ”

I’ve known Ad for many years, but not well. I’ve gotten to know him better in recent years through Oregon State baseball games in which we watched his grandson, Adley, become the greatest player in Beaver history.

Ad is likely the most successful small-college coach ever in this state. Through 24 seasons as head football coach at Linfield (1968-91), Rutschman compiled a record of 182-49-3, including 117-21-2 in league games. His teams won or tied for 15 league titles and claimed three NAIA national championships. Ad also served as Linfield’s head baseball coach for 13 years and won one NAIA national championship. He is the only coach at any level to win college national titles in both football and baseball and is a member of the NAIA Hall of Fame, the Oregon Sports Hall of Fame and the College Football Hall of Fame.

Back row, Don, Randy, Ross. Front row, Cindy, Joan, Ad and Mary Jo

This column is intended to pay tribute to Ad through the eyes of many of those who know him best.

There is no doubt that he is beloved.

“Coach is the wisest person and the greatest coach I’ve ever been around,” says Smith, who played for Rutschman during the final three years of his coaching career.

“I could not have been around a greater mentor,” says Mike Riley, who served seven years under Rutschman early in Riley’s long coaching career. “He was the greatest teacher of technique I’ve ever been around. I’ve never been around a guy who knew the overall game better.”

“He’s a godly man, a family man with tremendous values,” Chris Casey says. “You wish every kid could be coached by Coach Rutschman.”

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Rutschman was born in 1931 in Hillsboro in the heart of the Great Depression, two years before his lone sibling, brother Bob. Ad’s grandfather, Adolph Rutschman (Ad is Adolph III), ran a dairy farm in rural Laurel, just outside of Hillsboro. His father, Adolph Jr., worked on the farm before assuming a series of other jobs, including one with a feed and grain business, then with the Hillsboro School District as a bus driver, a custodian and later as director of custodians at the elementary school. Ad’s mother, Evelyn, worked at Bird’s Eye Cannery and then as a cook at Hillsboro High.

“I learned a work ethic,” Rutschman says. “I learned that a handshake was a contract. That you didn’t waste anything. You cleaned your plate. I had one baseball glove in high school. You took care of it, because you probably weren’t going to get another one.

“At one time, my parents had 31 cents to their name, but I can never ever remember being hungry or being unhappy. We had a good home life. We had a big garden. We had fruit trees. My mother canned. We always had one cow for milk. We had chickens and we raised a calf every year to butcher. We had rabbits — I haven’t eaten a rabbit since I graduated from high school. We took care of ourselves.”

Rutschman was a star three-sport athlete at Hillsboro High, 5-foot-9 and 155 pounds as a senior on his way to 185 by the time he finished college. He played halfback and defensive back in football, guard in basketball and second base in baseball, earning nine letters in the three sports. 

Memorabilia from Ad’s storied coaching career

Oregon State coach Kip Taylor offered a football scholarship, but Rutschman chose Linfield for a couple of reasons. Part of it was he wanted to play multiple sports. He was also looking ahead to a career in coaching.

“I had taken an entrance test in high school to determine what my career interests were,” he says. “It showed that I had outdoor interests. Teaching and coaching fit into that category, but also wildlife management. I was looking at that, and Oregon State would have been the place. But if you majored in wildlife management there, you had to take chemistry. I had not taken chemistry (in high school) and figured that was not the right time to start.”

Taylor wanted Rutschman to participate in spring football but said he would release him on game days to play baseball. Ad figured he would have no time to practice baseball and would be out of sorts with his teammates on the diamond.

“That’s what steered me to Linfield, where I could play (multiple) sports,” he says.

Rutschman had the good fortune to play for two legendary coaches there — Paul Durham in football and Roy Helser in baseball. In 20 years, Durham’s teams went 122-51-10. He won NAIA Coach of the Year in 1962 and started Linfield on a record streak of 65 consecutive winning seasons that continues today. In 21 years, Helser coached the Wildcats to 14 league titles and, in 1966, won the NAIA national championship. Linfield’s field is named in his honor.

Rutschman was a fullback — he would rush for 3,390 yards in his four seasons — and defensive back in football, a guard in basketball (Durham and Helser were “co-coaches” in that sport) and a center fielder in baseball at Linfield. Ad augmented the financial aid he received with a series of odd jobs that helped him establish a work ethic that never left him.

Plaques decorate the den at Ad’s McMinnville home

“My first two years year, I had a job peeling potatoes at Hudson’s Cafe in McMinnville,” he says. “I got my lunch paid for that way. I’d jog downtown, peel potatoes and have lunch, jog back, go to class, go to practice. After (Hudson’s) closed, I scrubbed, waxed and buffed the floors and got my dinner paid for. I also had a window-washing job at two banks for a couple of extra bucks, and I had a job on campus cleaning the dressing room at the (football) stadium.”

By the time he began his junior year, he was a married man. Ad and Joan Mason began dating the summer after their sophomore years in high school.

“You didn’t let us date until we were juniors,” Randy intervenes when Ad tells me that.

“There was a reason for that,” Ad quips quickly.

“We dated for four years before getting married,” he continues. “She didn’t go to college. Her parents didn’t have enough money to send her. She was a devout Catholic. Her goal was to be a nun. When we got married, she wanted to have 12 kids.”

They were married at 21, the summer after Ad’s sophomore year at Linfield. Rutschman was about to begin a run of five straight summers playing the Drain Black Sox, a semi-pro team in a small southern Oregon logging town that would win the National Baseball Congress championship in 1958.

“I knew I’d be down there for three months,” Ad says, “and I’m thinking, ‘I’m not going to see her for three months.’ What the heck — you want to get married?

“We got married on a Saturday at a Catholic Church in Beaverton. Hopped in a car, drove to Coos Bay, played a single game that night and a double-header the next day. Then I went to work in the woods. I wouldn’t advise that for newlyweds.”

The “Oregon Sawdust League” teams were sponsored by lumber mills, offering a chance for the players to earn plenty of extra money.

“I got paid $10 a ballgame, and we played four games a week — a non-league game on Wednesday, a league game on Saturday and a double-header on Sunday,” Rutschman says. During the week, it was on to an eight-hour-a-day job setting chokers and pulling green chain.

“That was the best physical shape I’ve been in my life, going up and down the hills, but it affected my hitting,” he says. “My muscles were really tight. I was always a little leery of weight-lifting with baseball.”

Rutschman cleared $100 a week, plus the $40 for playing baseball, a tidy amount in the early ‘50s. Joan also made $100 a week as a secretary in the lumber company office. There were also some perks — a gas fill-up for their car every week, a Sunday night dinner at a local steakhouse for the family.

The Rutschmans were making $2,880 for the three months in Drain.

“I took my first job at Hillsboro High in 1954,” Ad says. “My salary for the whole year was $3,750, which included coaching two sports.”

Rutschman was chosen in the 28th round of the 1954 NFL draft by the Detroit Lions (he was listed as “Dolph Rutschman”), and he says he signed a contract. The money in those years in the NFL, however, was minimal.

“I never reported to camp,” he says. “I was married and we already had Don. I thought, ‘Is this the life for a family?’ Besides, they didn’t wear facemasks in those days. I probably wouldn’t have any teeth today.”

Rutschman spent 14 years at Hillsboro, and wound up as head coach in football for 10 years and baseball for 13. He won three state titles in baseball and one in football and stayed until Linfield beckoned in 1968.

“I was happy at Hillsboro,” Ad says. “I wasn’t looking to move. Durham and Helser recruited me.

I took a one-third cut in pay (in taking the Linfield job). I was making $15,000 a year at Hillsboro and my starting salary at Linfield was $10,500. The only reason I could do it was we had five kids who could get free tuition at Linfield. We were going to have at least one kid in college for 14 straight years. Our kids never left college with a loan.”

Rutschman nearly left Linfield to return to Hillsboro before his second year at Linfield.

“The only guys I had coaching with me that first year were grad assistants,” he says. “I went to the school president (Gordon Bjork) and said I had to have help. He said, ‘We can’t do it.’ ”

The Hillsboro High principal, meanwhile, was putting on a full-court press. He offered Rutschman his old salary plus more.

“He had six people who would give me $1,000 tax-free a year apiece as long as I coached football at Hillsboro,” he says. “I could also serve as recreation director for the city of Hillsboro. It was an unbelievable offer. I pretty much agreed to it.”

Finally, Bjork agreed to let Rutschman hire a full-time assistant, and he stayed on.

During his time at Linfield, Rutschman received plenty of offers to move on. Ad says Rich Brooks offered him the offensive coordinator job at Oregon in 1983. Ad turned it down, and Brooks hired Bob Toledo.

“My problem was, I was never interested in leaving the Northwest,” Rutschman says. “I knew if Rich had great success, he was going to get offered a job elsewhere, and the odds of it being outside the Northwest were pretty high. If he didn’t have success, we’d all get fired and I would be looking for a job at a high school.”

Through the years, he says he had feelers for assistant jobs at Michigan, California, Oregon State and Air Force. He says he was offered the head job at Oregon Tech three times and at Western Oregon once. When Pokey Allen left Portland State for Boise State after the 1992 season, Ad says he was offered to succeed him with the Vikings.

“If I’d taken any of those jobs, my retirement (with PERS) would have been amazingly different,” he says. “But I had roots established at Linfield and had no desire to leave.

“I’ve always had a rule: Be careful on trying to improve on happy. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, be careful about trying to be happier.”

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The Rutschmans never reached Joan’s goal of a dozen children, but shortly after they wed they embarked on a baby-every-two-years plan with Don (now 68), Cindy, (66), Ross (64), Randy (62) and Mary Jo (60). They also had Don’s twin, Ron, who died of pneumonia at age six weeks.

“Toughest thing I ever dealt with,” Ad says.

(All of the Rutschman kids have stayed close to home. Don and Cindy live in McMinnville. Ross is in Newberg, Randy in Sherwood and Mary Jo in Dallas.)

The boys were all excellent multi-sport athletes at McMinnville High. All three were chosen to play in the State-Metro baseball series after their senior seasons at Mac High.

“There are only two families in the state who have had three (boys) play in that series — the Rutschmans and the Reynolds (Donny, Larry and Harold) from Corvallis,” Don says. “And Dad coached in it several times while at Hillsboro.”

Don was named all-league in both football and baseball at Linfield, but Don and Randy say Ross was the best natural athlete growing up.

“No question Ross was the quickest,” Ad says. “He’d have been a really good wingback for me in college. He wasn’t a basketball player, but he was a game-breaker in football. He was a punter at Linfield but had ACL knee surgery and played only one year of football for us.”

Rutschman’s schedule was jam-packed at Linfield. He taught three classes while also serving as athletic director, football coach and, for many years, also baseball coach. That meant there was too little family time.

“Dad never coached one of our teams growing up,” Randy says. “The coaching we got from him would be on the side. He’d sneak out when he could to watch our games. My first Little League game, I watched nine straight strikes go by with a smile on my face. I didn’t know any better. Dad told my brothers, ‘Tomorrow, you’re out there working with him.’

“In high school, when I was struggling and wasn’t feeling good about my hitting, I’d say, ‘Dad, I need help.’ He and Mom would come home from lunch. He had the whiffle ball machine out and Mom fed balls while he worked with me.”

I ask Don if he felt at times that Ad was an absentee father.

“Dad was also coaching an American Legion team and recruiting (for football) in the summer,” Don says. “He came to as many games as he could when we were growing up, but it was mainly my mom. I wouldn’t call it absentee, but he wasn’t around as much as a lot of dads.

“In the summertimes while he was at Hillsboro, he would hold a Little League camp. That’s the only time I got coaching from him. I remember hitting whiffle balls and him working with me on my pitching.”

Ad did coach each of the boys for four years in baseball at Linfield. They didn’t get preferential treatment.

“I really enjoyed coaching them,” he says. “You tend to either favor your sons or make it tougher on them — and I wasn’t going to favor them. It was probably unfair to them.”

Joan was the stabilizing force with the children at home.

“Mom did most of the work in terms of raising us, but when ‘The Godfather’ came in, that took hold,” Randy says. “He was pretty much the same guy on the (sports) field as he was at home. Everything had a progression — cleaning your room, washing the car. Everything Dad did was methodical. I was a little more like my mom. I’d just jump into things and try to get them done. Dad would analyze things for a bit and strategize.

“They were a great team because of it. She would kick butt on stuff. She could get 12 things done in an hour and my dad two things, but he’d have his done to perfection. Mom was able to understand things that were really difficult, like working through financials. My dad would simplify things for himself, which was part of the reason he was such a good coach. He could make the complicated simple.

“Everything was methodical. ‘You wash the car top down. You mow the lawn outside in.’ My mom and I would joke about it. I was painting the house one time in college and he was saying, ‘Let me show you how to do that.’ My mom shows up with a beer on a tray and says, ‘You’re going to need this, Randy.’ ”

Don felt both of his parents were fairly strict.

“There was some discipline within the house,” he says. ”Mom was as tight and as disciplined as my dad, but there were also times when they were fun. There was a lot of kiss, kick, kiss, kick — positive reinforcement and then get your legs pulled out on you. That was an every-day deal.

“Dad was aware of what was happening with us grade-wise. His attitude was, control what you can control. You can control your attitude, your behavior. If either one of those things are minimized at all, you were going to hear from him. There was no excuse for not hustling or having a poor attitude.

“Dad was a very hard-working guy. He worked long hours. He was a grinder. If we helped him build a fence around the yard, it was a slow, meticulously detailed process. We’d say, ‘Let’s just get the boards up; if one is off by a quarter of an inch, no big deal.’ He’d say, ’No, get the level out and do it right.’ He was the same way as a coach.”

Don was the only son to play four years of both college football and baseball for Ad.

“It was nothing unusual for him to hold a 2 1/2-to-3-hour practice in both sports,” Don says. “Practice was supposed to be over at 6 so we could get to dining hall before it closed at 7. Sometimes he’d go late and tell us, ‘Fellas, tonight you might have to run to get there on time.’ ”

Once Ad became Linfield’s athletic director in 1971, Joan became his office manager and stayed there until he retired from the post in 1996. She also ran the ticket booth on game days.

“When we made baseball road trips, my mom would sometimes make sandwiches and pack apples and candy bars for 25 players and coaches because the budget was lacking,” Don says.

“She was the best PR person the college has ever had,” Ad says. “The kids referred to her as ‘Mama Cat.’ She was a surrogate mother for a lot of kids.”

“She was like a second mother to me,” Chris says. “Joan was beloved. She and Coach Rutschman were a great team.”

“Joan was very protective of Ad, too — a right arm to the man,” Jay Locey says.

“She never sat in the grandstands at football games,” Don says. “After she was done selling tickets, she’d either go home and listen to it on the radio. Sometimes, she’d watch the game from inside the car that was parked close to the field. I’m not sure how many road games she went to. I do know she didn’t want to hear any garbage from the stands.”

The Rutschmans were married 64 years until her death in 2016. Ad lives alone in the McMinnville house they bought in 1972.

A memorial tribute to Ad’s wife of 64 years, Joan, sits in his living room

“I don’t know how I could have ever found a better wife, a better mother, a better person,” Ad says. “I’ve never heard one person complain about her.”

The Rutschman home remains largely unchanged in the five years since Joan’s passing. The living room still bears photos of her and notes written by friends and delivered at her memorial service. Ad can’t bear to take them down.

Letters from friends of Joan Rutschman after her passing

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Beginning in 1974, Rutschman coached games from the press box — unusual for a football coach of any era. He did that for the rest of his career.

“I caught pneumonia and the doctors advised me to stay home,” Ad says. “I talked them into letting me coach, but the only way was to be up in the press box, away from everybody. I found out I had a heck of a lot better view up there. The disadvantage was I didn’t have the face-to-face communication I would have on the sidelines. But I wasn’t opposed to having them put somebody on the phones if I needed to get a point across.”

Rutschman was a fierce competitor who was proud of the championships he won.

Game balls and other mementos in Ad’s office

“But I never put an emphasis on that,” he says. “I emphasized, ‘Do your best on the next play, and the next play, and the next play. If we have 11 guys doing that on every play, we’ll be OK.’

“My formula for winning was people, preparation, performance. It’s like a successful marriage. It’s pretty simple. Find the right person and be the right person. If you’re an employer, hire the right employees and be the right employer. If you’re a football coach, find the right assistants and players and be the right coach. I tried to encourage the kids this way: Forget about being the best. Just be the best you. Can you improve your work ethic? If you can do it, you become a better you.”

Deportment was perhaps the most important criteria Rutschman demanded from his players.

“When our teams went out to eat, I always told the kids, ‘I want to hear a lot of please and thank yous,’ ” he says. “When we left the football field, I’d have them pick up trash on the way out. If we stayed in a hotel, it was important to leave it in better shape than when we came. I expected to get a phone call from the motel manager, saying, ‘You’re the best-behaved team that ever stayed here.’ ”

For sure, it was a team with the biggest numbers.

“We’d bus on the day of a road game so we could take as many players as we wanted to,” Mike Riley says. “We’d travel with at least 100. We had about 150 football players at a school with 1,100 students and very few full-time coaches.”

“I’m not so sure we didn’t play a part in saving the college early on,” Rutschman says. “(Department heads) must have had a dozen meetings over what was called ‘Target 1,200.’ The question was, ‘How can we increase to that many students?’ Every August, the admissions director would call and ask, ‘Have you got any kids you can get for us?’ ”

In 1991, Rutschman retired from coaching at age 60.

“I got burned out,” he says. “I was tired. But I wasn’t ready to fully retire yet.”

Rutschman served five more years as Linfield’s athletic director until 1996 — the year Locey became the Wildcats’ head coach. One day soon after Locey was promoted, Rutschman got a phone call from him.

“He wanted me to become a full-time assistant,” Rutschman says, adding with a smile, ‘I said, ‘Jay, if I’m going to be full-time, I’m going to be the head coach.’

“He said, we’re having trouble with the kickoff return. Could you help out there?”

Rutschman is now in his 25th season coaching Linfield’s kickoff return unit.

“I’ve enjoyed it,” he says. “If you don’t use it, you lose it. This keeps my mind going. I get to look at film and be around the coaches over there. I enjoy the association and I enjoy seeing kids improve.”

Rutschman doesn’t coach from the sidelines on Saturdays. He watches home games from the stands and listens to road games on the radio.

“I don’t want to stand for three hours,” he says. “I go up high (in the stands) so no one can sit behind me, where I can watch the game and not get bothered.”

If that sounds grumpy, it’s misleading. Those close to Rutschman see another side of him.

“I enjoy a good laugh,” he says. “It makes me feel good.”

“Coach has a tremendous sense of humor,” Joseph Smith says. “That’s something a lot of people don’t get to see. He’s very witty. He’s a tremendous story-teller and really fun to be around.”

“He’s kind of a prankster,” Jay Locey says. “There are a few stories about jokes he pulled on me.”

One night when Locey was working late, he smoked a cigar in his office. The next day, Locey knew he’d made a mistake.

“There was so much smoke,” Locey says. “But (athletic director) Scott Carnahan opens windows and turns on the fans and I’m figuring we got it all aired out.”

Moments later, Rutschman enters his office.

Says Locey: “Rutsch is talking to a secretary, and he says, ‘Is that smoke I smell? It’s that night-time janitor. We’re going to have to get rid of that guy.’ I’m thinking, ‘Oh crap.’ I go into his office and sheepishly tell him I was the one who smoked the cigar. He just starts laughing. Carnahan had filled him in. He knew he’d gotten me.”

Several times through the years, Rutschman would tell a player, “I’ll race you in a 10-yard sprint for a milkshake.”

Locey: “If he lost, he’d say, ‘You owe me a milkshake. I didn’t say I had to win.’ ”

Randy Rutschman remembers a prank his father played on one of Randy’s teammates, Gene Lilly.

“Gene was all fired up about going fishing and couldn’t stop talking about his secret fishing spot,” Randy says. “He got it around that we should get the whole team to go fishing together. Dad found out about it and had the players take a vote. Everybody except Gene voted that we shouldn’t go.”

Lilly was crestfallen until Ad let him in on the gag.

Three of Rutschman’s Linfield players have made the NFL — Randy Marshall (defensive end, two years, Atlanta Falcons), Jim Massey (defensive back, two years, New England Patriots) and Paul Dombroski (defensive back, six years, Tampa Bay, New England and Kansas City). Several others played in the Canadian Football League.

Rutschman’s coaching tree is extensive. He has had 18 former coaches of players become head college coaches. More than 120 have become head high school coaches.

“Every single one of us who played for or coached with him uses his philosophies,” Chris Casey says. “It’s almost a coaching tree of clones. We share all these similarities because of Coach Rutschman. He’s the straw who stirred the drink.”

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Mike Riley was a grad assistant at Whitworth when a faculty position and defensive coordinator job opened at Linfield in 1976. Riley, two years removed from his senior year as a defensive back under Bear Bryant at Alabama, applied.

“I pulled out my biggest trump card for Coach Rutschman,” says Riley, now retired and living in Corvallis. “Coach Bryant called him for me.”

Riley spent seven years in McMinnville in the first job of a storied four-decade-plus career that included 14 years as Oregon State’s head coach and three years as head coach of the San Diego Chargers. Linfield won the NAIA Division II championship in 1982, his final season at the school.

“Being in that kind of environment was the most fortunate thing in the world for me,” Riley says. “I have such great respect for Ad and the program and the way he carried himself. He was a coach’s coach; he was a player’s coach.

“The main focus was truly about teaching. Ad always said we had the best classroom on campus, and he lived it. He made you prepare to teach and he demanded good coaching. If he didn’t like something he saw clear down on the other end of the field, he’d yell, ‘Coach!’ “ And he’d come down and correct the situation. He knew it all. He could have coached any position.”

Riley says though his title was defensive coordinator, “for my first three years, he coordinated both the offense and defense from up in the press box. He gave you more responsibility as you gained his trust.”

The summer after Riley’s third season, he figured it was time.

“I had worked on a handwritten notebook about my defensive philosophy,” he says. “One day, I presented it to Ad and asked him what he thought about it. He looked it over and finally said, ‘OK, go ahead, you’re ready,’ and that’s when I started calling the defense.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” Rutschman says. “Same thing with Jay (Locey) when he became the defensive coordinator after Mike left. I’d meet with him every morning. I’d already looked at the film and had my own ideas. We’d talk about it. If I had some concerns about it, we’d talk longer.”

Rutschman took a different approach than most head coaches.

“In football, there are a ton of plays,” Riley says. “So many coaches focus on what to do. Ad focused on the how to do it. He taught in logical terms to both coaches and players. His teams were prepared at the highest level for games. It was pretty amazing. He didn’t miss anything. It was great to be around that kind of teaching and that kind of program.

“It was built on hard work. We practiced for three hours — even on Friday, the day before the game — and nobody blinked. If a coach tried that now, they’d call you crazy. We were all about the preparation and the teaching.”

Riley served as junior varsity baseball coach for all seven years under Rutschman, who doubled as varsity baseball coach during that time. Riley was also a professor in the physical education department and taught classes such as weight-lifting, racquetball and first aid.

“It was really good for me,” he says. “I’d never been busier in my life. For three years I was the only full-time guy in the office. I did most of the recruiting. I’ve never been busier, but I’ve never been happier.

“To experience that at a such young age beginning the formation of a career — it couldn’t have been any better for me. I’ve often thought about it, that I could have seen staying at Linfield and making it a career there. (Wife) Dee and I were totally happy. I was the happiest guy alive. It was like I had died and gone to heaven. I loved every minute of it. It was awesome to have that job. I couldn’t have picked a better person to learn from.

“Ad is a tremendous person — a great example for everybody around him. He truly lived what he preached. He cared about people. The players admired the work he did, but really liked him, too. He was very fair. He believe hard work was the key ingredient to success, and he lived that. We all marveled at his character and work ethic and all the things about him.”

Riley left in 1983 to become defensive coordinator for the CFL Winnipeg Blue Bombers, then took over for head coach Cal Murphy and won a pair of Grey Cups as head coach there.

When he lists the coaches he worked for who have served as mentors, Riley includes Rutschman alongside Murphy, Hugh Campbell (at Whitworth) and John Robinson (at Southern Cal).

“Every one of those guys had a quality about them that separated them, that made them who they were,” Riley says. “Hugh was the best people person I’ve  ever seen. He had a feel for how people were doing, how they were feeling — an awareness about him that was special.

“Ad was the greatest teacher of sports technique. John was a tremendous advocate for players and also a really good football guy. He was fun to talk to about football, and he loved the running game. Cal was very much an innovator and knew how to put an organization together.

“I’m so thankful for the people I worked for. Starting out with Ad as the ultimate teacher made me consider that in everything we did through the rest of my career.”

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Jay Locey was Rutschman’s defensive coordinator during his final nine years as Linfield’s coach, helping coach the Wildcats to a pair of NAIA national titles. Locey then served as head coach at Linfield from 1996-2005, winning an NCAA Division III crown in 2004.

Now in his seventh season as head coach at Lewis & Clark, Locey says he considers Rutschman a “father figure.”

“He’s winsome, positive, upbeat — a can-do kind of guy,” Locey says. “He raises everybody’s level. He has high expectations, but he is really good with human skills.

“He is wise, well-respected, a principle-centered guy. He very much cares about people. As a coach, he developed people first and said winning will take care of itself. We all tried to emulate him. He is as close to another Johnny Wooden as I’ve met.”

Though Rutschman never met Wooden, he considers the former UCLA basketball coach a role model.

“If there was any one person who maybe had the biggest influence, though, it was (ex-Ohio State football coach) Woody Hayes,” Ad says. “I once attended a clinic at a national convention. I was surprised to find Woody in a room where high school coaches were speaking — and he was asking a bunch of questions. I’m thinking, ‘That guy is willing to learn from anybody.’ That impressed me.”

Rutschman once taught a class at Linfield entitled “The organization and administration of physical education and athletics.”

“I wish I’d have taken it,” Locey says. “He could have written a book about that. Kids who took the class will tell you they still use the same principles to lead a team or an athletic department. “He changes lives. He really believes in taking care of people’s needs and getting them to a point where they feel good about themselves and can take off. He takes some concepts and simplifies them and makes them applicable.

“That’s the way he was in football. You always believed you had a really good game plan, because he forced you to think it and re-think it. He was not as concerned about athletic ability as much as putting kids in the right spots. He demanded the right stuff, and you respected the heck out of him.”

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Chris Casey played strong safety for Rutschman, then coached defense with Locey under Ad for nine years (1985-94) at Linfield.

“I’ve never known one person who played or coached with him who ever said a bad thing about Coach Rutschman,” says Casey, who has been head coach at George Fox since 2013. “There is no person in the state of Oregon’s sports history who has impacted more people. He interjected teaching life lessons in everything he did.

“He had tremendous humility — he has no ego at all — and a great combination of being able to motivate people along with a tremendous work ethic. He was always a great example for his players and coaches.You respected him because he cared about you as a person.

“He was brilliant as a coach. He made a science out of coaching football. You talk about fundamentals, about how to do everything in the game of football — there’s nobody better.”

Casey says he has never met someone more observant than Rutschman. He recalls traveling with Ad, Locey and Ed Langsdorf in a van to a coaching convention in San Diego in which Rutschman was to be honored as NAIA National Coach of the Year.

“We’re driving along and he says, ‘Did you see that fox in that tree?’ ” Casey says. “He wasn’t kidding. He notices everything. He studies everything. He’s always trying to learn something. The guy is immersed with trying to learn as much as he can about whatever he can.”

Casey rattled off Rutschman’s coaching principles: Work ethic. Attitude. Being able to get along with people. Being a team player. Handling adversity.

“I try to do those things all the time,” Casey says. “That’s what he taught me. He lives that way. It’s routine for him.”

Casey says he talks with Rutschman about twice a month.

“You cannot talk to the guy without him asking, ‘What have you learned lately?’ “ Casey says. “He is obsessed with being the best he can be in life.”

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Joseph Smith played cornerback at Linfield from 1989-92, the first three years during Rutschman’s final three years as coach. Smith was an assistant coach at Linfield for 13 years, including seven years as defensive coordinator (1999-2005). Now in his 15th season as the school’s head coach. Smith carries a career record of 133-26 (90-6 in Northwest Conference action, including 76-2 since 2009) into Saturday’s matchup with George Fox.

“I played for him at the end of his career,” Smith says. “My gut tells me I got the slightly gentler, kinder Coach Rutschman than the guys got in the 70s. He is a very demanding person. What I loved about him the most was his consistency and the high standards he set for everyone. It was more than just football that way. He cared about every one of his players. He had good relationships with them, but also had very high standards for them.

“What I enjoyed most as a player was him holding his coaching staff accountable. He knew everything about every position and was a true master teaching the techniques, but from a strategy standpoint. He also knew the game so well and broke it down at such an incredible level, it gave us an advantage.”

Smith has become a fishing partner with Rutschman during the offseason. They catch some fish, but mostly they shoot the breeze.

“He is interested in people,” Smith says. “He listens to you. He digests what you say and has a conversation. It’s really never about him. In today’s world, people always seem to be about themselves. That’s the not way it is with Coach. It’s about you and your life, and that’s very refreshing.”

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Rutschman has a pretty good life at 90. He packs 207 pounds on his 5-9 frame, 20 pounds over his playing weight at Linfield, but he carries it well. He sometimes goes on walks but says he has not been diligent with exercise.

“I have a goal, but don’t meet it every day,” he says. “I have a hearth on my fireplace that’s 16 inches high. My goal is to do six squats a day to make sure I can always get off of the toilet. I have some stretch things and a set of weights at home, but I don’t use them very often.”

Rutschman does much of his own yard work. He has six apple trees and one pear tree and raises marionberries, raspberries and blueberries in his backyard. Don, his wife Judy and Cindy help him with a vegetable garden.

“He gardens the way he coaches,” Locey says. “He’s very system-oriented.”

Rutschman mowed his lawn for many years.

“He came up with an excuse about a year ago that he had sore ribs,” Don cracks. “I took over and haven’t heard that they’ve gotten better yet.”

Rutschman often spends Monday nights playing blackjack and video poker at Spirit Mountain Casino.

“One time, he won a jackpot and the reader board says, ‘Congratulations Ad Rutschman, our $1,500 winner,’ ” Don says, chuckling. “Dad tells them, ‘Please take that off. I don’t want my name up there.’ He has an image to protect, you know.”

Daughters Cindy and Mary Jo have coffee regularly with their father.

“Most of the time, it’s five times a week,” Ad says. “They are special people.”

Then, jabbing back at his oldest son: “Don didn’t mow the lawn last week, and Cindy came over and did it.”

Ad, Don and Randy all own vacation homes at Pacific City. This past week, they were joined by Adley — Randy’s son — for some crabbing at Pacific City.

“It’s a fun family deal,” Ad says. “A great adventure.”

Family is important to Ad. He enjoys his 14 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

“I’ve always been lucky to have great people around me — family and friends,” he says.

That goes both ways. So many feel it is their good fortune to have crossed paths with Ad Rutschman.

“What an unbelievable person,” Casey says. “I love the man.”

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