Jim Farrell

69, Long Beach

When Jim Farrell contracted COVID- 19 in early November, he kept the news to himself. Farrell, 69, had been an athlete in his youth, and he knew what it meant to fight — and even to lose. As a competitive swimmer in high school, Farrell excelled in freestyle and butterfly, filling his bedroom in Long Beach with first- place ribbons and trophies and Olympic dreams. But the more he raced against a dark- haired swimmer from Santa Clara, Calif., the more that ambition drifted away.

Future gold medalist Mark Spitz was just too fast, and Farrell adapted, changing over to water polo in college.

“He was disappointed,” said his sister Mary Farrell, “but he never complained or let the loss get to him.”

An avid reader, Farrell studied philosophy at Cal State Long Beach, and later, having attended est seminars developed by Werner Erhard on human potential, he learned that he was responsible for his own happiness.

That responsibility took him after graduation first to Oregon, where he headed the aquatics department at a YMCA, then to Iowa, where he studied at the Palmer College of Chiropractic, just as his father and mother had done.

In the mid- 1980s, Farrell joined his father’s practice in Downey. “Dad was ecstatic to have Jim work with him,” Mary said.

Coming home also meant returning to the Long Beach State campus, where he met Teresa Murphy, who had played women’s basketball, and the couple eventually married. Enthusiastic fans, they followed teams on the road, memorably watching young volleyball player Misty- May Treanor in Madison, Wis., cap off an undefeated season for the 49ers in 1998.

Teresa was on the athletic department’s statistics crew, and she eventually persuaded Farrell to join her when the scorer position opened up in 2005. By then, Farrell was considering retirement.

A few years earlier, he had listened to doctors who told him that because of his diabetes, they would have to amputate his leg. His brother tried to humor him by greeting him in the hospital with an eye patch and toy parrot.

“Jim was always ready for a laugh,” Mary said, “even after a hard time.”

Farrell found returning to work with a prosthesis difficult and eventually closed the family business and devoted himself to the stat crew at Cal State, chronicling the fortunes of the men’s and women’s basketball and volleyball teams, almost 60 games a year, from August to May.

From tipoff through overtime, from first serve to last point, Farrell had the best seat in the house.

“It sounds easy,” said Roger Kirk, assistant athletics director, “but if you make a mistake, everyone sees it.”

At the university’s arena, the Walter Pyramid, that meant up to 4,200 fans. The going rate – initially $ 15 a game – was enough to compensate for the heckling and pay for dinner with friends at a local coffee shop or Mexican joint.

His work at Cal State saw him through more recent losses: his mother, his brother and Teresa all within a year. Time spent tutoring student- athletes or putting up the final points of a game helped Farrell with the loneliness.

“Jim was a genuinely kind person with a wry sense of humor and who cared a ton about the game,” Kirk said. “It was a pleasure seeing him on game day and knowing we were in good hands with him at the table.”

A proud man, Farrell kept news of his hospital admission to himself, but his desire for privacy didn’t mean he was without love.

Mary got the call three days after he had been admitted. He was in the ICU, and she was allowed to sit beside him for his final hours. He died on Nov. 8.

“It was so sudden,” she recalled. “What a good life this man had. He was always so generous to everyone.”

Farrell is survived by his sisters, Mary and Barbara Dillon.