Main Photo (above) - Lubec, Maine, dipping front wheel into Atlantic Ocean

BELLINGHAM, Wash. --- Whoever said you can't keep score all your life never had George Gleason's position.
 
For more than 30 years, George has been seated front and center at Sam Carver Gymnasium, specifically on Western Washington University game nights. There, wearing the requisite striped referee shirt, he neatly, meticulously, makes entries into the official scorebook during men's basketball games. It's a role he relishes and, at age 79, has no plans to relinquish anytime soon.
 
"I'll keep doing the job as long as I can do it well," says George. "I totally enjoy being there."
 
"He's amazing," offers George's longtime score table colleague, Mike Kirk. "Everything George does, he does 100 percent."
 
Many around Whatcom County know George for teaching physical education and coaching numerous middle school sports.

He attended El Cerrito High School, not far from San Francisco, and obtained his bachelor's degree at Washington State University. George also had administrative duties for the Bellingham school district in the area of physical education and middle school athletics. He has been officiating prep wrestling meets since 1971. George retired from education in 1997. The scorekeeping job had fallen into his lap in 1987, when a longtime professor who had been doing it retired. WWU sports information director Paul Madison asked if George was interested. He was and is.
 
"It takes a major event for me to miss a game because I like being there so much," explains George, who may miss a game only every couple of years or so. "I plan my winters around high school wrestling and Western basketball games. I have a ringside seat at midcourt, as close as I can get to the action without actually being in it."
 
Maryan accompanies George each game night, arriving over an hour before tip-off.  Early on, she composed pre-game letters, often to their son, Jamie, while he was attending Washington State. Nowadays, she reads. Until the clock starts, and George goes to work, that is.
 
"It's fun to watch Western play," says Maryan, who sits several rows away from the scorer's table. "We've gone to a few Pac-12 games, but they weren't as exciting. The GNAC (Great Northwest Athletic Conference) players definitely hustle more."


 George and Maryan Gleason at scoretable in Carver Gym

Who's Keeping Score
 
Basketball scorekeeping has been essentially unchanged in its execution since James Naismith nailed some peach baskets to a gymnasium balcony way back when. The roles of scorekeeper, clock operator and shot clock operator are extensions of the officiating crew.
 
Clocks are much more complicated now, featuring displays of individual totals and crowd messaging. Shot clocks were introduced in the Eighties, with the men's initially set for 45 seconds (now 40 seconds). Whereas the game and its rules continue to evolve, the scorebook is somewhat archaic, requiring a pen or pencil to squeeze in a variety of numbers, slashes and names. That said, it is the game's official record and, unlike all the computerized stats and electronics along press row, it is a Luddite favorite, resistant to malfunctions and power failures.
 
"My job really hasn't changed in all these years," attests George. Whereas decades ago, before computerized statistics, fans would peer over his shoulder for scoring totals at halftime and postgame, modern scoreboards make that unnecessary. Most of George's interactions are with coaches, who confirm starters and double-check foul and timeout totals.
 
To many this might seem a thankless, tedious task. Not so, claims George. There is beauty in simplicity, to working in concert courtside with Pat Schuette (timer), Mike Kirk (shot clock operator), Brian Jones (public address announcer) and others among the game-day crew. They work together, helping one another when the action becomes frenetic and entries separated by just a few seconds. Two long-time score table workers, P.A. announcer Bill Palmer and timer John Riseland, have passed away over the last few years.
 
"George is always right on top of his game," Kirk shares. "He's always prepared and ready to go to work."
 
And when he's not there, tracking baskets, free throws, fouls and timeouts, George and his wife Maryan are always moving. Together, the Gleasons traverse the country via a rather distinct bicycle. Or they run river rapids. Or hike our country's more scenic and challenging terrain. Or, on a slow day, dutifully walk five miles or so around their beloved Bellingham. And then there's tap-dancing and hundreds of daily pull-ups.
 
Handstanding Has Its Reward
 
Ordinarily, ambling across a gym floor would not turn heads, let alone set in motion a lifelong romance. But doing so from an inverted position while walking on his hands virtually cemented George Gleason's future with Maryan.
 
While both were studying at Washington State, they shared a P.E. class. The instructor was running late the first day, and the students were standing around. George and a friend, both varsity gymnasts, took advantage of the open floor to begin walking about on their hands.
 
"I was very impressed by this one fellow," remembers Maryan of that day. "I looked at that guy (George) and thought, he's the man for me." She caught his eye too. They began dating at the end of the semester and married three years later, in December, 1963.
 
Like George, Maryan was raised in a family that enjoyed outdoor activities. She attended Western's Campus School for her elementary years and, later, Bellingham High. Her father, who taught at Whatcom Junior High, loved to hike and camp. "I always liked playing sports and being outdoors," she stated.
 
Jamie Gleason says his 90-pound, 78-year-old mother still climbs on a rope every morning. His dad, meanwhile, finds pull-ups irresistible. There are multiple doorways in the family home with pull-up bars.
 
"He's the king of pull-ups; he does around 200 most days," shares Jamie, whose Pullman home also has two pull-up stations which he and his sons frequent. "Dad's done so many pull-ups, there are cracks in the doorway wood frames. Together, Mom and Dad have done hundreds of thousands of pull-ups, and they are still doing them daily when they are home."
 
More recently first George, then Maryan, took up tap-dancing. It's great exercise, an enjoyable social activity, and challenges the brain learning new steps. It is also a way to help offset osteoporosis, Maryan notes. George, she says, is a born dancer.


 The Subway - Zion National Park back country

Rarely Seated, Except When Cycling
 
Maryan does not like sitting around the house, and George says one secret to their 55 years of marriage is, "If she's happy, I'm happy. Whatever she wants to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it cheerfully." He claims she is the tougher one, the motivator.
 
No matter the weather, they try to walk five miles every day. If there's snow, they walk in the mall. If onboard a cruise ship, they walk around the deck. "But we're slowing down," George confirms. "We agree that we don't need to go as fast as we used to."
 
While they were teaching and raising Jamie, George and Maryan would regularly hike and raft rivers. In retirement, their hikes are, if anything, more frequent and more adventurous, taking them to national parks, monuments, and less populated places in the Southwest. Not short hikes, either. Some are more than 15 miles. However, the mileage and memories accumulate much faster when biking, and the Gleasons have become serious cyclists.
 
After touring on separate bicycles initially, once retired they opted for a recumbent tandem. It's a bit strange looking but has proven considerably more comfortable (broad seats, back rests), which is a huge factor when cycling coast to coast over 11 weeks. That was the Gleason's first trans-continental journey, from Bellingham to New Brunswick, Canada, in 1998. All told, it was 4,515 miles.
 
That was one of four cross-country, west to east trips. There have been eight trips of more than 1,000 miles, the most recent in 2017 riding from Spokane, Washington, to Tallahassee, Florida. The states, the wildlife, the attractions and natural wonders are too numerous to mention. Maryan keeps a detailed journal of each, yet the overwhelming memory they share is one of people's friendliness.
 
"When you come into a small town," says George, "people want to know about this weird-looking bicycle and what we're doing." And the conversations grow from there.
 
Maryan loves an adventure. Her definition of adventure is "when something unplanned happens, and you have to deal with it." In hiking, it's finishing a challenging route. On one recent outing they lost their way and had to bivouac overnight. When on whitewater excursions they've had rafts flip in new rapids. On a bike trip it could be anything from outracing marauding dogs, seeking shelter from a sudden storm, or the inevitable equipment repairs. "It's about testing your ability to deal with a situation," she explains, "and coming through successfully." 
 
Because the recumbent tandem rides rather low to the ground they attach a bright flag to a 6-foot pole to aid in visibility. They have successfully averted any accidents, at least when riding. On a bike trip in British Columbia, walking from their motel to a restaurant for breakfast, they were hit in a crosswalk by a garbage truck. George sustained five fractured ribs, a collapsed lung and a concussion. Maryan received a torn rotator cuff and a severely injured foot. Three days and two nights later they were released from a B.C. hospital and returned home to recuperate. They have a positive attitude. Says Maryan: "Our motto, when bad things happen is, 'It could have been worse'."


 Tappan Falls - Middle Fork of Salmon River

On and On They Go
 
Apart from those nights in Carver Gym, it's difficult to picture George and Maryan sitting still. They are an active couple for all seasons. Spring is usually hiking in Utah, summers are spent rafting, and autumn is back in the bike saddle. The bike's cyclometer has over 34,500 miles on it. More two-to-four week trips are planned for the future. They can ruminate about that in the rare idle moments between Vikings games, pull-ups, and their tap-dancing dates.
 
The legacy of George and Maryan continues.  Across the state, son Jamie is passing it on, not only to his family but to the students of the private school where he serves as teacher and vice principal. Emulating his parents, each spring Jamie takes all the high school students on extended hiking trips to national parks and monuments.
 
"They are a special couple," exclaims Jamie. "Their healthy lifestyle creates close family ties and gives them an important relationship with us and their grandkids. We especially enjoy week-long family rafting trips. For Mom and Dad to do so many things together is fantastic. We pray they can maintain their active life style for many years to come."
 
 
Note: During the academic year of 1968-69 George Gleason was doing post-graduate work toward his master's degree at then Western Washington State College. He had a teaching assistantship and was given an office (converted custodial closet) in the men's physical education department which he shared with Paul Madison, then an undergraduate student and the acting sports information director for WWU Athletics. Little did they know at the time that 17 years later George would be handling the scorebook duties for Paul at Western's men's basketball contests.

Frank MacDonald is a writer and PR consultant who lives in West Seattle. He previously served as sports information director at Seattle Pacific University and communications director for Sounders FC.
 
Presented by Paul Madison who served 48 years as sports information director at WWU from 1966 to 2015. He is now in his fourth year as the school's Athletics Historian.