A toast to Randy Sims, whose love for soccer, Crew, was infectious | Michael Arace
Randall Sims found dying to be “fascinating and fun and interesting” and he spent many, many, many months engrossed in the process. As the world closed in on him like a camera shutter, his focus seemed to sharpen, and he marveled at the vividness of it all. Man, what a wonderful life.
“Don’t cry for me” he said often, and always with a smile on his face.
Sims waged a long battle with cancer. For the last year, he was supposed to be dead by the end of the week. Finally, it was last week. Sims was 65.
If you are a Crew fan of any duration, you knew Sims. He was the guy who somehow had a reserved parking spot on the inside edge of B-Lot at the old Crew Stadium. He had his own niche amid the rich tailgating culture of the Fairgrounds. He was the Toastmaster General.
Sims’ toasts could be weighty, like when he honored his friend Mark Rovick, aka Father Crewsmas, who, with a Black & Gold Santa suit, embodied the spirit of a new Crew season. (“Crewsmas” is what local fans call the home opener. Rovick passed in 2018. In lieu of flowers, his family asked that donations in his name be sent to the Boys Scouts of America and #SaveTheCrew.)
Sims had bottles he bought at COSTCO or Sam’s Club in the hatch of his Toyota Prius. He bought cheap stuff in quantity, not for inebriation, but for wider diffusion. The first Hell is Real rivalry game between the Crew and FC Cincinnati in Columbus is illustrative. On that day, Aug. 10, 2019, Sims’ Prius was a beacon for Cincinnati fans. Anyone who walked by his parking spot wearing blue and orange was invited to raise a cup.
Sims said, “This rivalry with Cincinnati is going to be amazing. For 90 minutes, I’m going to hate everyone in (Cincinnati). But before and after the game, they’re all part of the family. Because we love the game.”
If you have the program from the first Crew game in 1996, framed and hanging in your bedroom, and you’re a Black & Gold face painter with a Black & Gold checkered flag for a cape, and you got married in the Fairgrounds parking lot before Crew-San Jose Earthquakes game in 2008, you’d probably say, “Randy Sims, yeah – that dude is really hardcore.”
I knew Sims for years. When his lung cancer metastasized, I made it a point to call him at least once a month. I did that for a while, and then I stopped because it seemed like he was going to live forever. I last spoke with him prior to the World Cup in November. He was receiving palliative care at home, as he had been for most of the year, and he was freaking out his doctors. His lust for life was such that he hung on, and on.
“It’s great fun to confound them all,” he said. “I’m having a ball.”
Sims began driving to Crew games in 2002. The commute from his home in Charleston, West Virginia, is 180 miles. Over two decades, he rarely missed a home game and went through “six or seven” Priuses. A few years ago, he saw 31 Crew games, home and away.
Modern fandom can make for a roiling sea of discontent. Sims was like a lighthouse. He combined his love and knowledge of the game with a natural optimism that attracted players, players' families, coaches, front-office staff, you name it. I was often envious of Sims’ access, and I will always admire the way he protected his sources.
Former coach Gregg Berhalter often confided with Sims over lunch during the Crew’s preseason stays in South Carolina, where Sims also traveled, and sometimes he visited Sims in the parking lot in Columbus. The two remained close after Berhalter left for the USMNT job. They were exchanging emails right through last year's World Cup.
Former coach Caleb Porter, too, found Sims to be the best of company when it came to talking shop. Last April, after a game against Nashville in the new Crew stadium, Porter brought Sims into the locker room for the post-game rituals. At Porter’s behest, Sims addressed the team.
"It was a dream come true," Sims said.
Sims was carrying a portable oxygen concentrator, he was weakening, and he thought it was the last time he’d ever visit Crew Stadium. It was not, by a long shot.
“How long do I have? Nobody knows,” he said on April 8. “The anticipated ‘best if used by date’ is 111 days from today, July 28, 2022.”
He nearly tripled that.
“I’m just a fan," he said. "I’m just a guy. I’m just a guy in the stands. But, man, do I love this club.”
RIP, Randall Sims. Whatever is on the other side, it is now better.
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This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Lift a drink to Columbus Crew Toastmaster General, who lived life well
