LAKEWOOD – With tears and a trophy.
That is how Marc Johnson ended his coaching career after 52 years at Cherry Creek High School. On a postcard-perfect Saturday at All-Star Park, the Bruins swept a doubleheader from Regis Jesuit, claiming Johnson’s ninth state championship.
As right-hander Ryan Falke delivered the final strike on a high fastball, delirium ensued. Three assistant coaches hugged Johnson in the dugout. His wife, Peg, soon joined the embrace.
“We didn’t talk about this happening,” Peg explained, her voice cracking. “But yeah I dreamed about it.”
Johnson, 79, took the pressure off his players by focusing on the process, not the result. Success is measured in effort, in reaching potential. Despite needing to win three straight elimination games, the Bruins looked calmer than a lagoon. When they broke open a scoreless game in the fifth, the made-for-Disney script began to write itself.
“It’s been an awesome run. I have loved every second I have coached, every kid I have coached. How would I ever explain how it all fell into place? It wasn’t because of me,” Johnson said. “It was because of these guys, these players. It’s because of my coaches. I tried my best not to think about this. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t.”
Johnson’s farewell party doubled as a celebration of Cherry Creek baseball under his watch. Former players across five decades attended Saturday’s games, including a few who boarded flights to make the first pitch.
This is Johnson’s legacy as much as the league titles, the big leaguers produced, and the more than 450 athletes he has sent off to college programs. He believes in relationships, knowing that when kids stop playing they will remember their friendships long after their statistics have faded from memory.
“Everywhere you go, people know him. I was driving with coach to Arizona, and we found a wallet in a restaurant in Raton, New Mexico. We saw a police officer and went over to give it to him. We roll down the window, and he looks in and says, ‘Aren’t you coach Johnson?’” said Cherry Creek pitching coach Dave Veres, a former Rockies closer. “It’s unbelievable. His impact goes beyond Colorado. It extends across the country of guys he has coached or coached against.”
Johnson outlasted administrations, criticism and a pandemic. The Bruins began this season knowing it would be his last. They started 3-2-1 in their first six games. A few weeks later, they launched a 16-game winning streak.
When you believe in destiny, you don’t believe halfway.
“It means a lot to celebrate Coach J.’s legendary career this way,” Falke said. “He’s the GOAT.”
Johnson also is a throwback. In Saturday’s finale, he drew in his infield in the first inning to cut the run. A groundball to second baseman Brayden Yasuzawa was followed by a perfect throw to erase the runner at the plate. Moments later, he called a sac bunt and a squeeze bunt in succession. Mason Scott raced from third and appeared to beat the throw, but was called out.
Johnson’s last game nearly ended in the second inning. As he hustled from the dugout, he pointed his finger at the home plate umpire, screaming his displeasure with the call.
“The one thing that will never leave me is the passion and love for the game,” Johnson said. “God put me here for a reason.”
Peg tends to agree. Johnson had plenty of opportunities to exit preps for college ball or a scouting role. But why leave? They bleed Cherry Creek.
“This is us,” she said. “I have always told him, ‘You have no idea how lucky you are because your avocation is your vocation.’ Nobody gets to do that.”
Johnson always wanted to be in the dugout. He has a little bit of Columbo in him as a coach. There is always just one more thing. One more wrinkle to iron out. One more story to tell.
He enjoys the monotony, the unpredictability, the mowing. Yes, he is one heck of a groundskeeper. It is hard to find someone who hasn’t seen Johnson cutting the grass or dragging the field at Cherry Creek.
“I have got guys trying to get me to coach with them, and I told them they had to have a turf field,” Johnson said with a grin.
This is the part that goes unseen when watching him control a game from the top step of the dugout with his right arm perched on the railing. He has a charming personality and rare humility given his resume. Between games Saturday, he posed for pictures, including with John Casillan, a part-time coach for the Catholic church.
“He believes I bring him good luck,” Casillan said.
Everyone has a story about Coach J.
Brad Lidge, a World Series champion with the Phillies, remembers attending camps at Cherry Creek beginning in seventh grade. At one session, Johnson broke out a new hitting contraption attached to a stationary ball. Johnson was glowing as a star player delivered perfect cuts. Up stepped Lidge.
“On my first swing, I completely missed the ball and hit the wires, snapping them and breaking the machine,” Lidge said. “J looks at me and the machine — everyone in the gym has stopped and is watching — and he says, ‘You can’t break those wires without some serious bat speed.’ I have never felt so relieved. He just has a way of making us all feel good.”
So it was Saturday. Players hugged, smiled and laughed. At one point, Johnson approached a gaggle of them and said, “Remember, I told you the meaning of family. Forget About Me, I Love You,” Johnson said.
For 52 years, Johnson has been gripping a baseball. Turns out, it was the other way around.
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