The first time I met Newt Loken, he was wearing a snap-brim cap and his famous perpetual smile. I’d heard his name over and over, but never met him before. About an hour later, we were old friends. Newt was like that. One minute you’d be strangers, the next he’d have your rapt attention as he told one of his countless stories from 36 years of coaching Michigan men’s gymnastics.Talking to Newt, the black-on-white names of the Wall of Fame came to life. Gil Larose and Arno Lascari, the dynamic pair who led Michigan to its first NCAA title in 1963. Wayne Miller, Dave Jacobs and George Huntzicker, the three talented trampolinists who were so competitive, Newt had to make sure none were scheduled to practice at the same time. Eddie Howard, the last-minute hero of the 1970 NCAA championship team, whose high bar set to end the meet won it for Michigan by one tenth of a point.Newt could make you see his old coach at Minnesota, Ralph Piper, stalking round the gym with the stub of a cigar clamped in his teeth (Newt often hooked a finger in his own mouth to demonstrate). Listening to him, Newt’s own 1941 NCAA high bar title and 1942 NCAA all-around title seemed to have happened last week.Newt is one of the most decorated men’s gymnastics coaches ever: two NCAA championships, 12 Big Ten titles (a feat which will likely never be matched), and two Coach of the Year awards.

But he was unlike nearly every other coach who has reached legendary status in his or her sport.Instead of barking orders like a drill sergeant, Newt resembled a kindly father. His unflagging optimism and constant encouragement—not to mention his excellent technical skills—motivated his gymnasts more than a good chewing out ever could. Newt’s gymnasts became part of his family, striving for their best out of a love for their coach and pride in their school. When Newt retired in 1983, many of his current and former gymnasts felt like they were losing their father.Newt never stopped his involvement with Michigan gymnastics, though. He didn’t miss a home meet for 61 years. He delighted in encouraging the team, both openly—he was a fixture at Monday practices, especially during the season, where he could congratulate all the Wolverines—and sneakily.For example, before the Big Ten Championships in 2009, maize and blue posters bearing the numeral 3 popped up all over the Newt Loken Gymnastics Training Center. Current head coach Kurt Golder had won two previous conference titles, and Newt was convinced (correctly) that he was about to win his third. Newt never said he put up the posters. But everyone knew anyway.Later, after a wonderful second place finish at NCAAs, Newt blew up the first few paragraphs of the AP story to poster-size and hung it on the gym doors. It was the first thing the Wolverines saw when they got back to the gym.He was always thinking of everyone else, of how to brighten someone else’s day. Like most things he tried, he just had a knack for it. His bubbling enthusiasm for life seemed everlasting.So when Newt died on June 28, it both was and was not a surprise. He was 92, and had been in poor health—but he was Newt, who had never let anything keep him down. To lose him is to lose a living connection to history—and to lose a dear friend, a man who had more friends than your average five people combined and yet still made each one feel absolutely special.There won’t be a funereal day of mourning for Newt, though we are mourning. In keeping with his life and his personality, there will be a celebration of his life on September 30. There will be tears, surely, but I have a feeling the day will end with everyone laughing and sharing their favorite Coach stories. And that’s how Newt would want it.