GREELEY – Everyone in Greeley has a John Haefeli story. Heck, a lot of people outside of Greeley has a John Haefeli story.

Mark Knudson has several and honors his friend very well in the upcoming issue of Mile High Sports Magazine. A touching tribute to a deserving man.

For those who don’t know, Haefeli is battling terminal cancer. His initial prognosis was that he wouldn’t make it to the Class 3A baseball state tournament. But on Friday May 23, Haefeli was there. He was standing behind the press box with his arms folded, observing the tournament that he has so efficiently administered for too many years to count.

It’s now his tournament. CHSAA honored the longtime educator by declaring the 3A state tournament, the John Haefeli 3A state baseball tournament.

It’s a good thing to do. It’s the right thing to do.

A few years down the road, as kids who are today swinging plastic bats made for 8-year-olds, get into high school and reach the 3A tournament they may ask when they hear his name over the loudspeaker, “Who is John Haefeli?”

And they’ll quickly find out that everyone has a John Haefeli story.

Here’s mine.

A couple years ago, we were in the Butch Butler press box milling about and chatting. It was probably in between games or we were waiting out a pretty common lightning delay.

“Dan, did you grow up in Colorado,” Haefeli asked me.

I sure did John. Grew up in the Colorado Springs area went to school at Manitou.

He scoffed. He had a memory of Manitou Springs at the state baseball tournament.

“This play happens where a kid rounds third and slides into home head-first,” Haefeli says. “He slams into the catcher’s shin guards and is knocked unconscious. Manitou takes the lead [over University] and this kid who is out cold is their pitcher.”

Athletic trainers were not commonplace at the time. So as the site director, Haefeli said he made the call that the kid had to be removed from the game, which was met with immediate resistance from the Manitou crowd. It’s no different than things are today. The fans wanted to get the win. Haefeli wanted to make sure the kid was ok.

“This obnoxious dad waves at me and starts yelling ‘I’m a doctor! Let me examine him.’

“Whoa buddy, what kind of a doctor are you? ‘Does getting my MD from UCLA work for you?’

“He was so pompous about it,” Haefeli said.

He tells the story of how the kid was examined and cleared by this on-site doctor. With a lead over University in the seventh inning, this kid who had been knocked out just minutes ago was back on the mound. He shut the Bulldogs down and the Mustangs advanced to play eventual-state champion, Eaton.

By the time John is finished telling this story, I’m doubled over the chair because I’m laughing so hard. He gives me a quizzical look and asks what was so funny.

“The kid who got knocked out was my brother, Noel,” I said. “The dad you were arguing with is the dad of one of my best friends.”

I kept laughing. John didn’t.

“Your friend’s dad is a jerk,” he finally said while staring out to the green canvas of Butch Butler Field.

I think ultimately he was amused at the connection. By that point, I had been up to the 3A tournament enough that John and I had developed a good relationship.

When I saw him last week, I made a point of saying hi and telling him that his work and the way he runs the 3A baseball tournament makes it appealing for me to head north for the final two weekends of the season.

There are so many people who can speak far more intimately of the impact he has had on them, and more importantly, on kids.

Renaming a state baseball tournament is the least any of us could have done to thank him. But it is a fantastic way to ensure his legacy at state baseball, Butch Butler Field and Northern Colorado lives on.

My John Haefeli story still makes me laugh to this day. And I’m sure countless others would have the same effect.

Here’s to hoping that no one ever gets tired of telling a John Haefeli story.