Gary Gerould, voice of the Kings, copes with the loss of a daughter and real heartbreak
For 35 years, Gary Gerould has been a steady and soothing voice of the Sacramento Kings. He’s been a symbol of consistency and community, always there no matter what was going on in the world or in our lives.
But it probably never dawned on us, it never dawned on me, that the man who has provided decades of solace and comfort might be living through a heartbreaking time in his life and he needed some solace of his own.
Unbeknownst to Gerould’s audience, the silver-haired broadcaster, a venerable presence in Sacramento for more than a half century, has carried out his Kings duties in 2020 with a lump in his throat and a pain in his soul.
On Jan. 5th, the eldest of Gerould’s two children – his daughter, Beth – suffered a stroke the night of her 57th birthday.
“It turned our lives upside down,” Gerould said.
“You don’t ever want to see one of your children in a life threatening situation.”
For weeks, Beth was in and out of the hospital and care homes as her fragile health spiraled and her condition grew critical.
She suffered cardiac arrest more than once. Gerould, his wife Marlene and son Bobby kept vigil. When the coronavirus pandemic forced the suspension of the NBA season March 11, followed by a statewide mandate for all to shelter in place, the Geroulds could no longer see Beth. She died March 26.
A family mourns
Kings fans loudly lamented the bad luck of a premature curtailment of a season on the upswing. Quietly, the Geroulds mourned the fate of a daughter saddled with decades of bad luck and poor health since her youth.
From the time she was a student at John F. Kennedy High School in the late 1970s, Beth had fought affliction starting with her high school years diagnosis of renal tubular acidosis. The disease caused Beth’s kidneys fail to excrete acid from the body, making the blood too acidic.
The result can be painful kidney stones that pass like jagged rocks through one’s body. Gerould said Beth would sometimes pass 25 stones in a day. She would be in agony.
Twenty years ago, Beth was diagnosed with lupus.
“She faced pain on a daily basis,” Gerould said. “I wouldn’t have lasted 10 days.”
This has been Beth’s life and her family’s life. Put in context, Gerould and his family have lived with a child in this kind of distress since before he began calling Sacramento Kings games in 1985.
During all those years with Gerould as the irrepressible voice of the Kings, he concealed the pain of a father heartsick with the fate of his child.
This was a hurt carried equally by Gerould, his wife and their son. All they could do is love Beth and she loved them back, no matter what.
The father described the daughter as a “sweet spirit. A great listener who cared deeply for other people.”
Despite her challenges, Gerould was proud that his daughter had obtained a degree in psychology from Sacramento State. She was an avid sports fan.
One and only Kings radio voice
When the Kings moved to Sacramento, an event that galvanized a community starved for its own team, the Geroulds were all in, and not only because Gary Gerould was tabbed to be the first and only radio voice of the team.
Kings games were a blessing for the Geroulds, a respite. Out of his own pocket, Gerould bought three season tickets for his family and – especially in those early years – they always attended games.
In those years before monster contracts and before the NBA became a global phenomenon, Kings basketball was like the Sacramento community: It was close, personal, familial.
The Geroulds became close friends with early Kings stars: Reggie Theus, LaSalle Thompson, Harold Pressley.
Beth loved them all and some of those players became close family friends. This was a blessing for Beth and the Geroulds. You could say she was born with basketball in her blood on the night of Jan. 5, 1963. The night she was born, her old man was calling a high school basketball game in his native Michigan.
“I had plenty of time to call my game before Beth was born,” Gerould said, chuckling. He called the game and then rushed to the hospital, where he waited until the wee hours of the morning for his first child.
“She had sports ties from the get-go,” Gerould said.
By 1965, the Geroulds had moved to Sacramento. He worked at KCRA. He established a long-time relationship with NBC, where he called a variety of sports with Sacramento as his home base.
Gerould was an established local brand by 1985 and the Kings owners wanted a Sacramento name to call their games. It’s been a dream job, with a nightmare quietly playing out in the background.
Bedside in spite of coronavirus
And by last week, Beth’s condition grew dire.
She suffered cardiac arrest several times, and tested negative for COVID-19. With a number of precautions to ensure the safety of all, the Geroulds were allowed to spend time with her just before she passed.
“I have never been so stressed as I was the last few weeks,” he said. “I would never wish this on any parent.”
When the end came, Gerould shared the news and was overwhelmed by the response from the community. Kings players old and new called, as did the leaders of the current Kings, fans, community members and friends.
“We were so extraordinarly blessed to have a daughter like Beth,” Gerould said.
“And we’ve been overwhelmed by the support we’ve received from so many people, including people we don’t know. It’s been beyond what we could have imagined.”
It’s actually not so hard to imagine. Sacramento kids have grown up listening to Gerould as did their parents and even their grandparents.
He is the calming, familiar voice of the video just released accompanying the Kings “In This Together” initiative to help during the pandemic. “Kings fans have stood by us for 35 years,” Gerould says in the video. “Through good times and some bad, game-winners and heartbreakers. “
Heartbreakers, yes.
Gerould is resilient, too. He and TV broadcaster Jerry Reynolds have been with the Sacramento Kings since the beginning. And though Gerould is in the last year of his current contract, and will turn 80 in June, he hopes he has more time calling Kings games in the future.
“It’s still fun,” he said.
That’s all we can hope for in life: A little solace from the hurt of a loss beyond words.
Remembrances can be made to: The Sacramento Kings Foundation, 500 David J Stern Walk. Sacramento, Ca 95814.
This story was originally published April 1, 2020 at 2:59 PM.
