I would be remiss as a longtime coach and sportswriter if I didn’t pause today to honor the life and the career of David Goldsmith, a true sporting goods entrepreneur, who passed away July 15 of this year after a long illness.

If you played or coached the games you love and you’re old enough to remember Presidents Eisenhower through Reagan, then perhaps you recall making the trip to Old Town and purchasing a piece of equipment from David’s father, Milton “Mickey” Goldsmith, a pioneer in his field, at Goldsmith’s Sporting Goods.

When we were kids, the ride from Bangor to Mickey’s store was a special trip, for we knew at the end of our journey that we’d come away with a new hat or a bat and lots of stories to tell when we hit the sandlots again.

My favorite part of the visit was sneaking a peek at Mickey’s office walls, which were adorned with autographed photos of the store owner and different sports celebrities.

There was Hank Aaron, arm around the local legend, smiling as if Mickey were his best friend in the world. Look closely, and you’d see Jack Nicklaus in the same pose. Rod Carew was there, too. For young boys, it was something right out of sports heaven. In Old Town, we had our own Hall of Fame.

David grew up in his father’s business, and he worked long hours to learn a craft Mickey had begun years ago right out of the trunk of his car. When it was time for the elder statesman of the family to retire, David was waiting in the wings to take over a business which was known far and wide for its excellence. When David ran his father’s store, he kept that tradition going.

I interviewed David for this newspaper at the peak of his success when Goldsmith’s was ranked in the Top Ten nationwide for team uniform sales. Consider that, then consider the labor that goes into accomplishing such a lofty feat.

When hard financial times hit Goldsmith’s, some of David’s best salespeople made names for themselves elsewhere. Guys like Mike Turner, who now runs his own sporting goods business in the same building David did in his Bangor store at the Maine Square Mall; or Bill Libby, who moved over to Wight’s Sporting Goods, another historical locale, run by former Brewer star athlete Andy Nickerson; or Sandy Thomas, who made a name for herself coaching women’s college basketball at UMaine and Indiana-Purdue – all kept the Goldsmith’s tradition of excellence alive in their own careers.

David kept his own sense of excellence intact following the lean years by starting his own screen-printing business. Varsity Lettering was prospering at the time of his death. David’s move to Kennebunk also gave him the chance to coach. He fulfilled a lifelong dream when he took his first AAU hoop team to a state tournament.

I first met David, oddly enough, when we were in high school playing music in competing rock ‘n roll bands. David was quite a musician, and his group, The Vestmen, was always battling my group, The Yeomen, for prime dates on the local musical calendar.

We became good friends in college, and that friendship blossomed into a variety of activities, which included playing pick-up basketball games at Bob Cimbollek’s outdoor court; jogging through the streets of Bangor – I wasn’t much of a runner, but David was – with our good friend Robby MacDonald, who is now principal at the James Doughty Middle School in Bangor; and making trips to various sporting events.

My favorite memory of David happened one fall day when I was teaching and coaching at Penquis Valley High School in Milo. The year was 1978, and in the middle of my first-period English class, I heard a knock on my door. It was principal Malcolm “Mac” Buchanan, who could be a real card.

“Want to go to the World Series game tonight?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” I stammered.

“There’s a phone call for you in the office,” he said.

That’s all Mac told me, and once I heard David’s voice on the other end of the line, I knew the call was legitimate.

David had secured box seats from Louisville Slugger, the bat people, and he wanted me to fly out in about two hours to New York with him to see the Dodgers play the Yankees at Yankee Stadium in Game 4 of the 1978 series.

What a time we had.

W saw the game in which Reggie Jackson caused quite a stir by sticking his hip into the path of a thrown ball at first base. Remember that one? Lou Piniella won the game with a base hit to right field in the ninth.

The best part of the trip, however, was standing in the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel and retrieving our tickets from Pee Wee Reese, former Dodgers great, who, at that time, was a sales representative for the bat company.

While we were waiting for Pee Wee to finish his conversation with Chuck Tanner, manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates, a limo pulled up in front of the grand hotel and out stepped Ted Williams, Johnny Pesky and our own Dr. John Winkin. What a commotion that threesome caused.

Pee Wee handed us our tickets, and off we went to our game, which, by the way, couldn’t get any better than the excitement of seeing the Hall of Famers we encountered in the lobby. Too bad Mickey didn’t have a picture of that.

Rest in peace, old friend. You brought a lot of class and dignity to our business and to everyone you touched. You will be missed.

NEWS columnist Ron Brown, a retired high school basketball coach, can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net