George Roff

George Roff

GEORGE A. ROFF, 87, of FairWay Mews, SPRING LAKE HEIGHTS, died Saturday,.March 20, 2004 at home. He was a salesman at Crown Oil Co., Chatham, retiring in 1984 after 20 years with the company. He was a member of the Holy Name Society at the Church of Assumption, Morristown. He was also a communicant of St. Catharine's and St. Margaret's Parish, Spring Lake. He was a member of Manasquan Elks Lodge, the Flanders Valley Golf Club, the . Fairway Mews Golf Club and volunteered as treasurer for the Spring Lake First Aid Squad's annual fund-raiser for several years. While in Morristown, he was a founding member of the Morristown High School tennis team and a basketball star at the school from 1933 to 1935.He was active in Morristown Little League, the American League Baseball Organization, and in PAL Basketball in Morristown. He was an avid fisherman, tennis player and golfer. Born and raised in Morristown, he lived in Spring Lake Heights the past 21 years. Surviving are his wife of 62 years, Theresa Rooney Roff, a son and daughter-in-law, George A. and Kathleen Roff Jr. of Fort Washington, Maryland; a daughter and son-in-law, Carol and John Prendergast of Morristown; and four grandchildren, Hugh Prendergast, George III, Jonathan and Sandra Roff.

EULOGY

George; Georgie, Shots, Poppy, Daddy, and Dad - These are the names that we knew him by- this special man who touched all of our lives in such a wonderful way. He was truly-as he would say of others- a piece of work! Dad knew everybody and_everybody knew him. And if he didn't know you, you were in big trouble because he would come over and start talking and within 5 minutes he would know your whole life history - and you would know his! And he would do it in such a way that you would walk away thinking this is my new best friend. Dad was truly old school in so many ways but he could relate so easily to all people regardless of age, sex, politics, religion, or opinion. And he was never afraid to speak his mind and impact the minds of others in so many ways - and always with a sense of humor.

And how about those clothes! He was the epitome of sartorial splendor. Only he could gracefully wear striped shirts with plaid pants and socks that matched his golf club covers. He was the talk of the club - and the talk of Morristown and Spring Lake Heights, and everywhere he went. And what a competitor! From his younger days as a star basketball player, baseball phenom and speed skater to his legendary fetes on the golf course and tennis court. He played hard and fair and he lived his life in the same way - never giving up, right to the very end.

My Dad used to tell me about Grantland Rice, who is recognized as the first celebrated American sportswriter. He chronicled the Golden Age of sports in the 1920's, 30's, and 40's and immortalized Notre Dame's 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Rice was also an accomplished magazine and book writer, film producer, skillful golfer, and poet. One of his poems says it all for me at this poignant moment and it goes like this:

GAME CALLED By GRANTLAND RICE

Game called
Across the field of play
The dusk has come
The hour is late
The fight is done
And lost or won
The player files out
Through the gate
The tumult dies
The cheer is hushed
The stands are bare
The park is still
But through the night
There shines the light
Of home beyond the silent hill

Game called
Where in the golden light
The bugle rolled the reveille
The shadows creep
Where night falls deep
And taps has called the end of play
The game is done
The score is in
The final cheer and jeer have passed
But in the night
Beyond the fight
The player finds his rest at last

Game called
Upon the field of life
The darkness gathers far and wide
The dream is done
The score is spun
That stands forever in the Guide
Nor victory nor yet defeat
Is chalked against the player's name
BUT DOWN THE ROLL
THE FINAL SCROLL
SHOWS ONLY HOW HE PLAYED THE GAME.

We'll miss you Dad. You were the Best!