Reflections on My Dad, Hoot Miller

Dad receiving an award from Monsignor Murtha. Player John Vatis from the 1963-64 team is on the left.

Gigi Miller (Aranoff), OLS Class of 1974, talks about her memories of her dad coaching OLS basketball through the years, and the heartfelt stories she still hears from his former players to this day.

My dad started the basketball program at OLS several years before I started school there.

My First Communion, with my parents and my sister, Cari.

He loved basketball. He played high school basketball at Ossining and he also played while in the Marine Corps.

He was a strict coach but he was fair. They always had good teams and they used to hold a huge tournament each year at Stepinac called the JFK tournament. There were lots of schools in it from all over. If you won the tournament, you got to keep the huge trophy for the year. If you won the tournament 3 times, I believe you got to keep the trophy without having to give it back. We won it 3 times and I think the trophy is in the window in the lobby at OLS.

My family was very close to the O’Tooles, often going over to their house on Ethelridge Road and also to their vacation house out on Long Island. Robert was in my class and my dad coached him and their older brother Brendan. Timmy was four years younger than me so to me he was a little kid. To this day, even though he’s a grown up, I still think of him as a little kid with his shaggy blond hair. Everyone called him Timmy so he’ll always be Timmy to me.

My sister Ellyn’s christening. Many OLS kids are in this picture, including most of the O’Toole kids and our neighbor, Dom Sputo.

My dad coached so many kids over the years and one of them was John Mara, owner of the Giants. John was five years older than me and didn’t really know me but years ago I saw him up in Massachusetts at a rest stop off of 95. It was after the Giants won the Super Bowl against the Patriots. I went up to him and asked if he was John Mara — he probably thought I was a psycho Patriots fan. He responded “Yes,” a little nervously. And then I told him my name and who my dad was. He then smiled, looking very relieved and said, “Your dad was one of my favorites.” His college-age son was with him and he called him over and introduced him to me and told him that my dad coached him and how much he liked him. My daughter, Sara, was with me and John said to her, “Your grandfather was a great man.” I really wished my dad could have heard that because I know it would have really meant so much to him.

Not too long after that, I attended a sports awards dinner for my stepson, who played football and baseball at Eastchester High School. I saw the name Eugene DeSoiza in the program as President of the Eastchester Sports Club and I remembered that name because my dad coached him. Again, he was older than me but I vaguely remembered what he looked like and asked my stepson to point him out. I went up to him and told him that my dad had coached him. He got so emotional and had tears in his eyes. He said he had only attended OLS for a short time but that my dad believed in him and put him in the game at a very crucial point. He described every play that he was a part of in that game as if it had just happened. He then went to find his son and introduced me while telling him how much my dad meant to him. Before leaving, he hugged me and thanked me for the wonderful memory.

The 72-73 basketball team, which included Bobby O’Toole and Richie Hillebrecht.

One other story I remember is from around 1983. OLS held a reunion back then for anyone who had attended the school. I went to it with my best friend, Maureen O’Grady, who I’ve known since 1st grade and we’re still friends. Another player that my dad coached, Patrick Walsh was there (my dad also coached his brother Chris; their dad, Ray, worked for the Giants). We were talking about my dad and Patrick said that next to his own dad, my dad was his hero.

Hearing all those stories was amazing for me. It’s so nice to know that my dad meant so much to so many people.

My dad died in 1995 in Florida. We had a mass said for him at OLS and the priest who said the mass didn’t know my dad but after hearing several people, including me, speak about him, he said he wished he could have known him.

I feel so honored to be his daughter.

PS: When I was a student at OLS, Sr Cecile taught 1st grade. I didn’t have her as a teacher but I was in the chorus each year, which she ran with Mrs. Hill playing the piano. It was a lot of fun. A very fond memory that I think about every year around the holidays is when my dad and my sisters and I would go caroling with lots of OLS families all around Gedney Farms with Sr. Cecile playing the accordion. She would sit on the back of someone’s Country Squire station wagon and we would walk and sing as we went house to house. Then, we’d head back to the convent for hot chocolate. I loved it!

The plaque for my Dad is on the wall in the OLS lobby, right near the one for Mr. O’Toole.

This yearbook dedication from Bobby Cook reads:
We, the Class of ’68 wish to dedicate our yearbook to Mr. Miller, who by his guidance and example has taught us good sportsmanship in the “tournaments” as well as within the halls. He has shown us the right things to do, not only on the court but also off-court.

Mr. Miller has unselfishly given of himself for the past five years and we take this opportunity to express our deepest gratitude for all he has given to Our Lady of Sorrows.

THANK YOU, COACH!!