Few men in Las Vegas have had a greater impact on the local baseball community than former UNLV and CSN coach Tim Chambers. As a skipper to hundreds of ballplayers over the last few decades, “Channy” guided countless young lives safely into port. He prepared them for life, offered astute words of wisdom and held the lot of us accountable not for our actions, but our potential for greatness.
The reverb of his life is felt in every corner of this city.
Tim Chambers passed away late Sunday night at the age of 54, leaving behind a wonderful family and an army of brokenhearted lives impacted by his time here on Earth. His passing leaves an expansive chasm in the lives of so many who loved and adored this authentic human man, me very much included.
As I sit here, trying to muster words he would have tipped his cap to, I find myself at a loss. Few men, outside of my own father, have impacted my life the way he has for almost 20 years. Every key stroke is met with a falling tear as I look back in retrospect. Without a doubt, I can say I am not where I am today — as a coach, as a teacher and as a friend — without his presence in my life. I owe so very much to him and his legacy. He helped me through the darkest moments of my lifetime and gave me a future when all seemed lost.
I was 28. Confused, lost, broken as I went through a divorce that was tearing my life apart at the seams yet one man sat across from me in his office on a bright Tuesday morning offering the sagest of advice. This wise man implored me to step back inside the lines and come back to the one place I always felt safe and whole — the baseball diamond. He told me it was also where he felt most alive, and he was right.
He pestered me to become a high school coach every week for the better part of a year when I’d stop by his office every Tuesday morning. I was a young sportswriter then, and I looked forward to our hour-long chat every week. Whether it was about life, the game itself, or just shooting the breeze, he always gave me the time. Heck, we even watched former Chicago Cubs reliever Kyle Farnsworth pile drive Reds pitcher Paul Wilson live from his office one spring morning.
Sometimes I’d meet him over at the old PT’s Mining Company on Boulder Highway in the afternoon, and he’d hand me a wad of drink tickets to use at my discretion. He was a father figure to me during some of the more confusing and terrifying moments of my life but he never made me feel lost. He knew how much I loved the game of baseball, especially the Chicago Cubs, and he saw something in me I couldn’t even see at the time — potential.
He gave me full access all season in 2003 when the CSN Coyotes made their magical run at a NJCAA National Championship, even offering me a spot on the bus and a room in Grand Junction, Colo., for the tournament. I’ll never forget the massive hug he gave me when he got off the bus when they returned, one of many he’d give every time we’d see each other.
When I finally accepted his call to coaching, Chambers made one phone call to another local legend, Jerry DeSimone, whose son played at Bonanza High School. They were going through a coaching change and Channy knew it was a good fit (more so because Jerry had been a coach of mine when I was little guy). With that one call, I was put in contact with the new hire, Derek Stafford, a wide-eyed kid just two years younger than me and the rest, well, the rest is history.
Stafford and I took over the program and I left sportswriting to become a teacher so I could coach full-time. I fell in love with teaching and the young lives I was blessed to work with. Since that pairing, Stafford has become my best friend, I have been teaching and coaching for 15 years, living my best life, trying — and sometimes failing — to be my best self. I’ve coached future Major Leaguers including Chicago Cubs MVP and World Series champion, Kris Bryant. I’ve taught and coached some of the most amazing young people and none of it is possible without this man’s constant urging me to follow my calling.
“It is hard to put into words the impact a coach can have in your life,” said Chris Huseman, one of my best friends who Chambers sent to me as my Junior Legion assistant my first summer coaching. “Chambers was one of the best at understanding what each player needed at the right time, whether it was on or off the field. I am saddened that future players will never get the chance to experience Chambers as a coach, but I know there will be many of us keeping his legacy alive.”
Huseman won a national championship with Tim Chambers at CSN in 2003, and has been a vital part of my life thanks to us being paired together. We coached our first summer together, lighting a spark in both of our lives for coaching and giving back to the game. One player on that first team was future St. Louis Cardinals and New York Yankees reliever Chasen Shreve, a player who has become like a brother to me over the years — another relationship I never would have experienced without Channy.
“When I knew Channy, he always had a smile on his face, laughing and joking with all of us, but when it came time for business he was more focused then anyone on the field,” said Shreve, who played for Tim Chambers in 2009 and 2010. “He brought all of us together in a way I don’t think any of us ever knew. I met some of my best friends to this day on that team. He changed my life more than he will ever know and I will miss him.”
And, while it’s not my intent to make this about my own journey, it’s just one example of a life Tim Chambers impacted on a deeper level. I am just one of hundreds who have found themselves on their own journeys thanks to his presence in their lives. We all lost a part of us in his passing. The countless lives we all fight to impact today are the direct result of his within our own lives.
His love of the game, and all it entails, was obvious. This game was embedded in his DNA. He was human, emotional, strong, and resilient. Our last phone call lasted for more than an hour, and he spoke optimistically about getting back in the dugout to write the final chapter of what surely is a Pulitzer-prize winning story.
But life had other plans.
Now, his great epilogue will be written by the countless lives — my own included — who give back to both the game and young people who strive to become their best selves. Life isn’t measured in wins and losses, successes and failures, but in how we make others feel and believe in themselves. We give because we can, we love because we’re able and we fight because it’s all worth it.
For me, it was one man believing I had so much more to give inside the lines than out, and he was 100% correct. I wouldn’t trade my journey for anything in this lifetime, and — thanks to “Skip” — I will always give my best to impact the lives I’m blessed to work with, day in and day out.
I’m gonna miss you, bud. Thank you. From all of us.
