Bob Rosencrans had a monster fish on his line, a walleye masquerading as Orca, he thought.

He worked feverishly, struggling to reel in the fish. As he did so, he envisioned how his lunker would surely make the catches of his wife Sharon and friends Dick and Janet Brougher seem minnow-like.

"They had all caught fish, all in a row, in the nine-pound range," said Rosencrans, recalling that western New York autumn day in 2000. "I'm thinking, 'This has to be 15-20 pounds."'

It weighed but three pounds.

As it turned out, this was no fish tale. Instead, it served as a sad harbinger of dreaded things to come for the former Wittenberg University athlete, coach and athletic director.

"Around that same time, I knew something was wrong when I would play golf with my friend Mark Frawley and he started out-driving me," Rosencrans said, attempting to season the harsh memories with humor. "And then, around Christmas time, I went to pick up my youngest granddaughter Abby and I couldn't pick her up - and she was only around a year old. I thought, "Wow ... what's happening?' "

The Rosencranses were to find out soon.

In January of 2001, they traveled to their condo in Pinehurst, N.C., as they normally did, and tests were done at the Duke University Medical Center. They all came back negative - but that wasn't good news to Bob's ears.

"They were the kind of tests that meant it wasn't the kind of thing that you wanted it to be, you know, things that at least can be treated," he said.

"It was a gradual thing," Sharon recalled. "I remember during that time that they would ask things and I knew they were leaning toward ALS."

Their fears were later confirmed by these same doctors. Yes, Rosencrans had ALS or Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis - commonly referred to as Lou Gehrig's disease after the New York Yankee Hall of Fame baseball player who died from it in 1941.

It is a disease that has no cure and little can be done to slow its onslaught. It attacks the parts of the nervous system that control voluntary muscle movement, causing progressive paralysis and finally death.

Surely this couldn't be happening. After all, Rosencrans had always been an athlete - playing three sports at Wittenberg, where he graduated in 1958. He'd always been a bundle of energy, at different times coaching the Wittenberg swimming, golf and wrestling teams. He was best known as a defensive coordinator for Wittenberg football, helping the Tigers win national titles in 1973 and '75.

But ALS cares not how impressive one's resume is as it insidiously takes control of your body, leaving you completely dependent on others. It is an equal opportunity pillager of the health and future of more than 30,000 people in the United States who are known to have the disease.

The 67-year-old Rosencrans no longer has the use of his arms. He can turn his head and he still speaks fluently and with as much passion as ever. However, in the last six to nine months, he has lost strength in his legs to the point where he can no longer walk.

"There's no pain involved with it," said the man everyone knows as "Rosy" as he sat in a special chair in the living room of his Springfield condo. "In my mind, as I'm sitting here right now, I can send the nerve signal to my hand and arm to pick my hand up and scratch my nose. But I do that and my hand doesn't move. It's frustrating, very frustrating."

For those who care about him, it's nearly as frustrating - even emotionally painful - to watch his health decline. Especially for Sharon and daughters Julie, Beth and Amy - all of whom think of their father as a vibrant go-getter ... but now this.

"It's hard because he has always been so active, he was always on the go," said Julie Rastatter, the youngest of the Rosencrans' three daughters. "I know as things have progressed it's been difficult for him to give up certain things. One was driving. Then not being able to fish. The things he loves to do."

"I go visit with him and it's just really difficult," said Ron Murphy, who played and coached football at Wittenberg with Rosencrans. "Rosy has been my friend so long and it's just sad. He wasn't a great player by any stretch but he {M4was a tremendous competitor. ... And now he can't even lift his arms ... It just really gets to you."

These days, the competitor in Rosencrans has never been so clearly evident. Rosencrans, co-owner of Mike & Rosy's Deli in Springfield, has always been committed to winning - the right way and in his own way - and it is no different as he faces his toughest opponent yet. There is one thing, he vows, that the disease will not take from him - his positive attitude and love of life.

"You can't let it get to you," Rosy said. "I don't think, 'If I could just play golf one more time,' or things like that. I just don't think that way. I'm happy I have it and a lot of other people don't, to be truthful. Maybe there will be a pill or something to shake it one of these days."

Until then, Rosy won't complain.

"I'm not poor off. I'm not. And I won't let myself think I am. There's just too many people in this world that makes me sick to think of the pain they go through and the servicemen shot over there (in Iraq) and things like that."

And so that's why Rosencrans keeps looking forward to the next day - especially Fridays when, at 5 p.m., friends drop by for a cocktail. Call it Rosy's Happy Hour.

"He really looks forward to it," Sharon said.

"Well, I can't meet them at a bar anymore," Rosy said, grinning widely. "They come over on Friday afternoons every week. Hey, that keeps them out of trouble. The way I look at it, you have to laugh and enjoy people. That's why I like these guys coming over on Friday afternoons - they have so many stories and things. It's fun."

Truth be told, those visitors to Rosy's Happy Hour are filled with encouragement. Their spirits are lifted more by Rosy than the spirits they lift.

"I haven't heard my dad even once ask, 'Why has this happened to me?' or anything like that," said Rastatter. "He's just accepted it and gone forward with trying to deal with it. That positive attitude is the most important thing - as soon as you lose that you've lost the battle completely."

"I admire him more for how he's handled this than anything else he's accomplished," said Dave Maurer, the former Wittenberg football coach who coached Rosy during his playing days and served as a coach with him under Bill Edwards. "He has really impressed me with his courage. It's just a lousy, lousy disease."

The Broughers, who met Bob and Sharon more than 50 years ago, agreed wholeheartedly.

"It's terminal and there's nothing that ever says it's going to get better or stop," Dick Brougher said, tears of emotion filling his eyes. "He's one of the most positive people I've ever met. With all the problems he's got, well, I wouldn't be like that. I'd just be meaner than hell every minute of my life. Well ... maybe I wouldn't because you just don't know how you would react but I never thought he'd be up this much."

"Bob's been amazing," Janet Brougher added. "He's always been a very positive, very outgoing person and he's always had a good sense of humor."

That humor was on display on a rainy Friday afternoon recently as Rosencrans poked fun at himself - not hesitating to note that, yes, he weighs in far above his college football-playing weight of 160.

"Do I have trouble eating or swallowing? Look at me," Rosencrans said with a laugh. "I eat good."

Rosy and food - that reminded Dick Brougher of a story.

"Rosy was 155 pounds soaking wet when he played and somewhere along the line he put the weight on," he said. "He just liked to eat. I helped out on concessions at Wittenberg (football) games and Rosy would be in the press box coaching and he'd eat 10-12 hot dogs every game. As long as someone was bringing them up there, he'd eat them. He's the kind of guy that ordered a shrimp cocktail for himself before a meal and a loaf of onion rings for the table - and then hope no one else wanted any."

Murphy also had a story to tell.

"We were both playing defensive back and we were down at Washington & Lee playing a game. His guy ran right by him and caught a touchdown pass," Murphy said. "Rosy ran over to me and he shook his finger in my face and said, 'That was my fault.' But now everyone in the stands thought it was my fault by what he did. I said, 'You rascal.' "

It is Rosy's sense of humor that not only helps him stay upbeat but also softens the blow for his family and friends.

"He's been able to use his sense of humor to calm me down," Rastatter said. "If we are in a difficult (caregiving) situation, he'll use humor to settle me down."

But everyone knows that there are times when any amount of humor fails to mask the reality of the situation.

"You know the eventual outcome," Sharon said.

"He tries really hard to stay up around his friends and things but you know he's not that way all the time," Janet Brougher said.

"When you are by yourself you get to think a lot," Dick Brougher added.

And so ... everyone prepares themselves the best they can.

"No one can tell me anything if it's going to be six weeks, six months or six years," Rosy noted.

"It's devastating. I never knew anyone to be as loyal as Rosy. We've been close forever," Maurer said. "He's been so much a part of my life at a lot of different levels. We have had a lot of fun sharing our families and our lives together. This has everyone in town just torn up."

"I think all of us ... are preparing in different ways," Rastatter said. "I pray a lot and that gives me some peace. To an extent, I have grieved him in a way already because he's not the same. So I've started that process.

"But when he gets to a point where he is no longer comfortable, whether he's having trouble breathing or he's stuck in the bed, I know his wishes would be to just go. So that would be a relief for him at that time and, in some ways, for us. But the selfish side of me wants to keep him around forever."

Rosy, for his part, refuses to dwell on the bleak future ahead. He prefers, instead, to reflect appreciatively on his past.

"I've been so lucky and blessed my whole life," he said. "I mean, you can't feel sorry for yourself. Heck, I have seen things and done things and met people that thousands would love to - so I'm happy for that."

And that's why Rosy's happy hours just keep coming.

© 2003 Cox Newspapers, Inc.