There are a plethora of words that have been used to describe Danny Evans, Gonzaga baseball's associate head coach who passed away in April at age 41 after a yearlong battle with melanoma. But "Zag" is always a common refrain, one that seems to sum up so many aspects of what makes the fallen coach irreplaceable.

Not everyone who's been a part of GU Athletics gets that distinction by default, and it certainly doesn't just pertain to winning – even if Evans was a cornerstone of one of the most successful periods in program history. There's something intangible and intricate about what makes someone a great Zag, but there was always a universal understanding that he had it. Perhaps he even became part of its definition over time.

Those who've met him find it impossible to remember Danny without a smile on his face, but his optimism was anything but irrational. It was infectious because the ambition of his vision was rooted in what was already special about GU — it just made sense. 

"For one, he was an inherently incredibly positive person," said Zags pitching coach Brandon Harmon, who played for Evans before coaching alongside him for a decade. "That energy just rubs off on every aspect of the program, whether it's behind closed doors or on the field … he really did have a vision in terms of not just settling for, 'Hey, this is how we do it,' and continuing to push the rock forward."

It's part of why his No. 8 jersey hangs in this dugout at every game, a reminder of his role as one of the primary architects of what the program has built in Spokane. And as that vision bears fruit, it'll always be intertwined with Evans' legacy — that of a steady-handed guide to an ascendant program and the hundreds of young men who came through it.

In over two decades at GU, Evans was offered plenty of chances to jump ship for opportunities other coaches would dream of. But Gonzaga was his home; a place where he met the love of his life, found his dream job and raised his family. Spokane was where he was given a shot at building something special, and he valued that more than anything. He never left – and the program, the school, and hundreds of lives he became a part of are better for it.

"Danny loved his job, he loved the Zags," said his wife Kellie, who he met at GU.  "There has been one constant since we met, every connection, every memory, every triumph and every heartbreaking moment of this last year … Gonzaga means more to our family than anything."

In short, Evans wanted to make GU baseball a program that everyone was as proud to be a part of as he was. 

And in that regard, his fingerprints are everywhere. An alumni network that now spans hundreds of former players and friends of the program was an undertaking spearheaded by him, and the Zags' transformation into perennial contenders — and now, national powers — in a warm-weather WCC came largely because of a bevy of premium players that continued to flow through Spokane and an airtight culture that only begot more success. He even led the effort in creating an LLC for the program's summer camps, finding new Zag baseball fans wherever they went throughout the northwest.

But all of that almost didn't happen. The summer before Evans' freshman year of college, he told then-assistant coach Mark Machtolf that he was going to junior college in Arizona instead of GU, feeling it was in his best interest as a player.

Machtolf would have nothing of the sort. He told Evans that he was going to come play at GU, or at least he'd have to come to Spokane and tell him to his face. That was how strongly he and head coach Steve Hertz felt about him. 

"Not only is he our kind of guy, we absolutely have to have him," Machtolf remembers telling Hertz.

"He was that kind of high school player that was just beyond his years," Hertz said. "He didn't just play hard. He celebrated the game when he played."

They weren't alone in seeing something special. Mike Rooney, now known as the voice of college baseball and one of the most well-respected analysts in the game, remembers when he was coaching at Arizona State and recruited Evans, recalling how the Sun Devils' coaching staff wished they "had 50 of him".

"Evans' tools didn't scream Pac-10 player — But even then, his makeup was off the charts," Rooney wrote in a tribute to Evans. "He was a person you wanted in your program."

Five years later, when Hertz retired and Machtolf assumed head coaching duties, Evans was just as important of a target, this time as an assistant coach. And just the same, it took some mulling over. Evans was freshly graduated, finding himself in an interstitial period where he wasn't sure where his path would lead next.

But after sleeping on it, he was in. Machtolf remembers his words that next day, at all of 21 years old: "You know what – I think I'm going to give this coaching thing a try."

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't thank God that he made that decision," Machtolf said. "There was an intervention that somehow led me to think that he was a guy that I needed by my side, and man, did I need him."

From that point on, he was indispensable. He was eventually promoted to lead assistant and recruiting coordinator, becoming an ardent ambassador of the Zag Way and one of the premier recruiters on the West Coast. Rooney said GU consistently "punched above its weight" in terms of recruiting because of Evans' efforts, although he'd likely disagree on both counts. 

Maybe it's because the pitch was relatively simple, and Evans himself was a testament to its legitimacy: "Come to this amazing school, this amazing community, and your life will never be the same," as Kellie remembers.

Evans was nothing if not consistent, and every interaction was authentic. He wasn't the type to treat two different people two different ways, and it didn't matter who you were when you spoke with him. He had time, and as Harmon said, "A gift for making you feel good when you talked to him."

"He didn't big-time anybody," Jared Hertz said. "And he absolutely could've, but that wasn't who he was.

"While most people vacillate between the best version of ourselves and the worst version of ourselves and everywhere in between, he just always managed to be a great version of a human being. That was his baseline."

Even more importantly, he took care of people, even in the throes of a battle for his life. When former Gonzaga AD Mike Roth announced his retirement in 2021, Evans returned to campus to check in on him and give him his best. 

"He said, 'I gotta be here for you,'" Roth said. "That's the kind of person he was. He made me cry."

The vigor with which Evans promoted his program endeared him to everyone who he ran into in baseball spaces — The dozens of scouts and coaches who poured out condolences and memories of their interactions with him after his passing is evidence enough.

"He was the guy that when you showed up, you wanted to talk to him," Harmon said. "You wanted to interact with him. And that wasn't just our group — that was everybody. He really just had that spirit about him, that he could connect with anybody."

At a Celebration of Life held in honor of Evans on May 12, Machtolf made a promise – there wouldn't be a team that he coached that wouldn't know the kind of man, the kind of father, the kind of coach Evans was. Because ultimately, the standard he set remains foundational to the program's culture; a sort of gritty servant leadership that lifted up those around him in ways they couldn't have imagined. 

Someone who saw every day as a great day to be a Zag.

A day after that ceremony, GU laced up to face Santa Clara at Patterson, wearing special jerseys with Evans' No. 8 over their hearts to honor him. A 10-day layoff and the residual emotions of the past few weeks weighing heavy, GU never led until a two-run single in the bottom of the ninth won the game on a walkoff — the most emotionally explosive ending nine innings could possibly have, with crushing weight dissolving into euphoria with one swing of the bat. And as a dugout full of Zags wearing No. 8 poured onto the field, sprinting and falling over each other in a chaotic release of unbridled joy, that night felt like it couldn't have ended any other way. 

A celebration of the game in its purest, most undistilled form. Even the most heart-rending of tributes couldn't have come close to matching that.

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Like Machtolf, Evans' former player and fellow assistant coach Cory Lebrun had a promise for Evans as well, echoing the sentiments of the dozens of former players and friends who came back to Spokane to remember him. Speaking about Danny's impact on his life, Lebrun's somberness gave way to something more inspired, even as he battled the emotions.

"If I could tell Danny one last thing, it'd be that we've got your back," he said. 

"Everything here is taken care of. You've taught us the right way. We're going to continue that legacy every day."

The truest of Zags – and an unreservedly great man, above all else – deserves nothing less.