This news hit hard. I had no idea he was even sick. Chris took me to my first ever concert- Kansas with Cheap Trick opening for them on December 31, 1977. There was an extremely awkward kiss afterward by the water heater in our garage. Such an intelligent, witty, and kind man. I’m grateful to have been able to know him and catch up with him at an alumni happy hour gathering a few years ago. Godspeed my friend. I’ll never forget you.
—Kathleen Fitzgerald Novello

Chris and I were boyhood friends. I think we met in 1971 ... I have many special memories and very funny stories from ages 10 to 18 or so. He was such a force, it's just hard to imagine his voice has been silenced. Somehow this seems impossible. We grew up listening to Cheech and Chong on LPs and doing all the rowdy stuff early teen kids used to do. It all became much more serious as soon as Chris got his drivers license. Game on.

Of course all of this was back-dropped by music of the time and just hearing a certain tune magically transports me back into his mid-seventies Vega hanging on for dear life.
We were good friends decades before Ride or Die was even a quote. But we were that and always will be.

My condolences and appreciation to his lovely wife Gay for creating a safe and loving haven for him over all of these years. I'm going to always remember you my dear friend.

—Tim Powers

I never had a man in my life I could totally trust, who always had my back. Never. Until I met Chris. I worked in the classroom with his son Mark when he was in 1st or 2nd grade. We started out as advocates for Mark and became friends. Over the years, we fought many battles together. I didn't even have to finish my sentence and Chris was already coming up with a plan, and just in case ... an alibi and bail money. He was always there for you, always had your back. Our Cerritos group became know as the Cerritos Mafia. A name we wore proudly. No one could clear a room faster than we could. We shared our dreams, hopes and fears for our kids. We laughed together and cried together. Poor guy was the only dad in the group. We will all miss him and his snarky remarks. I promise you Chris, we will always be there for Gay and Mark. We are family. 💕
—Robin Sumner

Because he had such tenacity as a reporter, people who didn't know Chris probably wouldn't guess what an empathetic guy he was. In 2002, after he saw a story in the Daily Pilot, where my mom worked, about how my mom, sister, and father had passed away very close together that year, he took the time in those pre-social media days to track me down, offer condolences and see if there was anything he could do. RIP, Chris.
—Mark Spinn

On friendship: When I started as an intern at the Times in 1989. Foster and Ara Najarian were the first two people who made me welcome. Took me to lunch. Showed me around. Gave me all of the "new guy" tips and warnings.

At the end of my internship, I was transferred from the OC office to LA for a few months to fill in on the copy desk for a sick colleague. Problem was, I didn't have anywhere to live. My Costa Mesa apartment was too expensive after my roomies moved out, so I found a house in Long Beach with some guys I met at a party. Problem was, I couldn't get in there for five weeks. So I stowed my things and lived out of my Nissan Sentra. I slept in the car or at Bolsa Chica State Beach and showered in the early morning at the public showers.

After a week, Foster noticed I looked a bit "unkept" when I'd stop in to the OC office to pick up some prep assignments on my day off. "Why don't you crash at my place," he said. "The sofa is huge."

So for the next month, I crashed on Chris and Gay's couch in their small one-bedroom in Belmont Shore in Long Beach. They fed me, made sure I was OK. I can never repay their kindness. But that was Chris. He didn't seem to care.

That first year at the Times was tough. I was by far the youngest on staff and got beat up pretty good. I was pretty lonely, too, though Chris, Ara and my roommates always kept my mind off of that.

Those six years working together led to a lifelong friendship. We'd grab dinner if he was in town or called or emailed regularly. I remember his panicked call to me the night the Tribune Company purchased the Times. "Bastards aren't going to fire us, are they?" It was probably the only time I had to reassure Chris about anything.
—Mike Reilley

Chris Foster was covering the Angels, Cal State Fullerton and writing a weekly column for the Anaheim Bulletin when he quit the newspaper to take a job freelancing at the Los Angeles Times.

He had just moved in with Gay Arakawa—what he described as a “big Arakawa family scandal”—who had left the Bulletin to do temp work, so it was a risky financial decision. His parents weren’t happy either. His mother said, “I think you would get tired of starting over at the bottom all the time.”

Chris’ response? “The bottom isn’t such a bad place … there’s only one direction to go.”

And from there, his career began to soar.

Foster was a longtime Anaheim Ducks and UCLA beat writer, a tenacious reporter and superb wordsmith for 28 years at the LA Times.

After a 16-month-long battle with pancreatic cancer, he passed peacefully Wednesday with Gay and son, Mark, at his side. It was the day after his 65th birthday. “It wasn’t the hand I wanted,” he told me a few days before he passed, “but it was the hand I was dealt.”

After a series of chemotherapy and radiation treatments and a medical trial at UC Irvine Medical Center couldn’t shrink the tumor, he and Gay decided he would spend his final days at home in hospice. Gay had to keep a notebook to schedule the line of friends, former colleagues, neighbors and family who came to visit the man who had touched their lives in so many varied positive ways.

He was a fiercely loyal friend and a mentor to so many young journalists. He reveled in speaking to sports journalism college classes and working with high school journalists. He was a kind, compassionate and empathetic man hidden beneath a sometimes gruff exterior. He had a dry and brilliant sense of humor and a nearly eidetic memory.

And he was a pain to every coach and sports team that tried to hide the truth from him. As a young reporter at the Times, he covered Mater Dei High School. When he called the basketball coach a bully in a column, the school’s principal called his boss and demanded he be removed from covering the team. His boss sent out a memo to the staff declaring that Foster would be “the permanent Mater Dei beat writer.”

When covering UCLA, which didn’t allow reporters to watch football practice and routinely didn’t reveal injuries to reporters, Foster would sit on a bench in the Morgan Center and count heads as players returned from practice to the locker room. One day, he arrived to see that the bench had been removed … so he sat on the floor.

The athletic director walked by and asked why he was sitting on the floor. Foster explained that the bench was gone. A few minutes later, a maintenance worker dragged the bench out of a nearby office and put it back where it was.

Chris was my best friend and leaves a huge void for all of us who loved him.
—John Weyler

My best friend of more than 40 years, Chris Foster and I met way back in 1981 when we were both on the school newspaper at Saddleback Community College, two Orange County kids dreaming of making our livings as journalists. To our mutual (and perpetual) surprise, we did. Chris was best man at my wedding, and my wife Barbara Chang Fleeman and I have been so lucky to share with Chris and his wife Gay Arakawa these many wonderful years of kids, careers, barbecues, music, parties, travel, concerts, and Chris's high-octane sangria. We miss him already, and, Gay, we're there for you and Mark.
—Michael Fleeman

So sad to see that Chris Foster passed away last week at the age of 65. In this holiday season, we think about all the other Times sportswriters that have passed away far too early in life — Chris Dufresne at 62, Mike Penner at 52 and Allan Malamud at 54.

Although most of us sports fans never knew them personally, when we read their sports stories and columns multiple times a week for so many years, they became part of our family. They are all sorely missed.
—Don Geller, Irvine (Letter to the Editor, Dec. 22, 2023)

On music: Between Chris, the late Mike Penner and the late Chris Dufresne, we had a depth of knowledge on music in the office. I sat across from Foster at work, and I was schooled on Springsteen, New Wave, Punk, every genre but country over the years. Every Christmas, Mike Penner sent out a mixtape of the best music of the year, complete with liner notes. He and Foster would debate the choices every year with Dufresne. It was like watching "Pardon the Interruption" but set to music. Ara and I would just watch ... and listen. Those years really refined my music tastes.

My last talk with Chris came in August, not long after I had sent him the setlist from the Springsteen concert I attended at Wrigley Field. The phone rang minutes later. I had no idea he was sick and couldn't tell from his passionate critique of the show (why has he stopped playing "Cover Me"? No "Born in the USA"?)

On journalism: Chris was a dogged reporter. Always on the go. He worked the phones like crazy and could hunt anyone down. He constantly dug into Mater Dei, the private school where controversy abounds. It tested his relationship with them when he had to make calls on more routine stories. So Chris and I made a deal: I made the "friendly" Mater Dei calls and he made the difficult ones. In return, Chris covered me with Servite High (God they hated me there) so we could get the routine things done. Contributing lines on the stories took care of the rest.

We would backread each others' stories before sending them to the desk. Vent to each other about problems, etc. "Let's go to The Caf," was the Times OC version of a therapy session in the cafeteria, which had wickedly good Caesar salads, chicken piccata and enchiladas.

I like to think Chris's patience and kindness rubbed off on me as I grew older. My boss told me in my last performance review that I struck an odd balance of kind toughness with my students. "They don't hate you for pushing them to be better."
—Mike Reilley

This week was a rough one as we said goodbye to my Uncle Chris Foster. Known as a hard-working tenacious journalist, he was a larger-than-life figure that was always present in my life.

Early in life, as a bright-eyed Little Leaguer learning how to play the game, I was struggling hitting in the upper division. More often than not, I was called out looking, waiting on "my pitch." I was taking swings in the backyard as my grandfather and dad critiqued my mechanics and gave technical tips as they finished off a twelve pack. Chris laughed and said, "Just swing, you can't hit what you don't swing at." The next game with those words ringing through my head, I dug in at the plate, stared down the pitcher, and proceeded to strike out swinging in three pitches! And that's pretty much how my short-lived baseball career went. His advice didn't work that time ... but he was there.

Later in life, as I was preparing to say "yes " to the love of my life at our wedding, Chris was covering the Bruins football game an hour away in Pasadena. Although he wouldn't make the ceremony, my uncle jokingly asked UCLA Coach Jim Mora to hurry up the press conference, he had a wedding to catch. Jim proceeded to have one of his fastest post-games of his tenure. My uncle made the reception in time to have a drink with his nephew and plot the next scheme with my dad. Once again he was there.

A few years later, he was there with me as we sat for hours in a hospital and we said goodbye to my father after his own long fight. He was there as my advisor as we fought the health system in my mom's (his sister's) health issues.

He was always just there. As he was with Mark, as he was with Gay. The center of every ruckus, the exaggerated historian, my personal consigliere and the life of the party. Chris will be deeply missed in our family. Rest In peace Uncle Chris! You and Pops keep one cold for me, can't wait to be in the middle of that pointless argument again. Until then, I'm gonna just swing!
—Joshua Blea

 Chris’ openness to advising young college stringers back in the old Times OC office days meant a lot to me in the early stages of my career. I’m really saddened to hear this news. He was the first kindly curmudgeon type I met in the business. 
—Geoffrey Bilau

 Chris joined the LA Times/OC Sports department not long after I arrived. Initially, we eyed each other suspiciously—he in his Che Guevara T-shirts versus me, dressed head to toe in Guess. Eventually, we bonded over a love for Springsteen and feisty debates over which of our beachy hometowns was better (Chris always won—mostly by wearing me down).

We bantered our way through meetings and commiserated with each other about Sunday mornings in the office, working the phones for quotes from high school coaches and whatever tidbits we could drum up to fill out 25 inches of Prep Review.

But my favorite memory of Chris at work is when we were at play. Grabbing a football and running plays on the field at halftime (we really got into it!) and tossing around a mini football in the office (apologies, again, to those trying to get work done in Calendar and View, especially those who we might have bopped on the head with the ball).

Decades after I left the Times, Chris often checked in to see how I was doing. Once he'd retired, we'd meet for breakfast or lunch and Chris was always kind enough to let me choose a health food eatery over his favorite greasy spoon.

In our final visit, at UCI Medical Center, we got around to talking about what our work might have meant in the larger scheme of things. I told him I was always impressed how fast he filed his stories, especially on tight deadlines, and how he never seemed to struggle with writer's block. He looked at me and with complete seriousness and replied: "I never needed to be great." But so Chris was, in so many, many ways.
—Barbie (Ludovise) Odanaka 

 Chris was such a devoted and dependable friend. He was THE first responder. He didn’t ask what he could do, he just showed up, always! Whether it was a midsummer move from Long Beach to Chino Hills over 30 years ago in 100+ degree weather to his very regular check-in calls in the years since we lost our Chris, he was there for our family and so, so many others. When we think of him, can’t help but recall the scene from Grapes of Wrath, he really inhabited the spirit of Tom Joad, “I’ll be all aroun’ in the dark. I’ll be everywhere — wherever you look. Wherever they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever they’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there…” He was there. He was on our side, and most likely your side, and we were all the lucky ones. ❤️
—Sheila Dufresne 

 Chris was a loving character with a big heart and a great journalist.
—Jay Paris 

I have known Chris since 1978 when I was sports editor at the Saddleback Valley News and I hired him to cover local sports. And, of course, all those years at The Times. A great guy with a unique perspective. He will be missed.
—Dave Campbell

So sad to hear this news. I remember working closely with Chris during the 1996 purchase of the Angels by Disney. It was a very stressful several months! But Chris had a great attitude and was so positive always. Such an upbeat man. We gave The Times a series of scoops and Chris was a part of that. My condolences to his family and friends for this tremendous loss. Even as I type this, his smile is all I can think of.
—Greg Hernandez

Chris was most definitely one of a kind … he’ll be missed … and remembered!
—Bill Milroy

We were all cub reporters together, moving from the Anaheim Bulletin to bigger papers eventually. Many of us falling in love and marrying, like Dave Lesher and I and like Chris and Gay. I witnessed Chris falling head over heels in love with my friend Gay and it was fun to watch. Those were the Long Beach years where so many young journalist couples could afford a place near the beach. So we all lived near each other. Worked together. Played together. Christmas boat parades. House parties. Chris helped Gay and I dig up a section of a community garden and plant flowers to our hearts content. Chris always said what he thought, expressed his outrage and his affections boldly. So authentic. I loved that about him. Not a dishonest bone in his body.

One memory that I see "live" from time to time is on the video of Dave and my wedding. Our lovely flower bedecked ceremony is going on in the courtyard of the Laguna Beach Hotel and a soloist is playing a flute, a delicate melody. Suddenly motorcycles parked just beyond the courtyard wall begin revving their engines. LOUDLY. RELENTLESSLY. They won't stop. The video happened to pan the audience at that moment and you see Chris' sweetly smiling face turn to a snarl. Everyone else is looking like they're pretending it isn't happening. But Chris' snarl is so deep it's as if he's going to jump out of his seat and throttle the Harley riders. I've watched this in recent years and laugh at the snarl, so honest a reaction. It's sweet too. Because I know Chris feels for us, our special day interrupted. He wants to make it stop. For us. The motorcycles drove off eventually and we laughed it off.

Later, on the same video, Chris and Gay are dancing and you can see that Chris is so happy -- celebrating our marriage, enjoying friends, and dancing with his pretty girlfriend. He sweeps her up off her feet and swings her like a doll on the dance floor. His smile is so big and he holds her so tight you know what you're witnessing. Pure joy. I like to keep that image of Chris in my mind. He lived honestly. He loved boldly. He knew how to do happy very, very well.
—Laura-Lynne Powell

Good person, excellent beat reporter and a unique wit! R.I.P. Chris
—Bill Robertson

There are many reasons Chris deeply touched so many lives in and out of the workplace: his humor, his doggedness, his integrity, his humor, his honesty, his humor, his reliability, his unfailing decency and his loyalty. I was so thankful to be associated with him throughout his career at The Times, and he was an enormous source of support when I went through some difficult periods in the office. I know of no one I could count on more to be in my corner whenever I needed someone. His character was unparalleled.
—Mike James

Chris was such a good friend in and out of the newsroom. Such a huge help to me when I got sick.
—Keith Thursby

Chris is the straight man in one of my favorite stories to tell. Early 2000s I was filling in on the Ducks beat. A defenseman suffered a broken finger in a game. At the next days practice, the Ducks coach—humorless Craig Harrisburg as I remember it—told us the player had surgery and was done for the season. Chris hadn’t covered the game so he asked “Which finger was it?” Coach smiled broadly, extended his middle finger and shoved it at each of us. “This one! This one!” Only time I remember that coach smiling. RIP Chris.
—Bill Plunkett

On moving day: Foster was the first person to show up on anyone's moving day. We skipped around to various apartments in those years. And Chris didn't help you move, he moved you. An absolute blur, he'd grab anything sitting down and was an expert at packing moving trucks and pickups.

I remember when he and Gay moved to their home in Long Beach. Close to 50 colleagues, friends and family showed up, all to repay the help Chris gave us over the years. It was the easiest moving day ever. When unloading, I helped move a couch and a small table. That was it. With so many people, we were done in about 30 minutes. We spent the rest of the day eating pizza and knocking down beers with John and Mike Penner in the backyard. The music was going (stereo was the first thing Chris unpacked) as we laid on the grass on a perfect sun-splashed California day. Thirty-two years later, I can still remember it.

On humor: Chris was funny. He talked a mile a minute and could cheer you up in a second. He often had a quick line or two to open interviews with coaches. A master bullshitter, but always had a good question to follow it.

Chris loved teasing Ann Conway, our OC social life columnist. She sat on the opposite side of the cubicle from him. I was on the other side of the aisle. Ann always yelled at him for "being too loud." Chris made fun of her for being a Republican and a socialite. Around and around they went. It was like watching Dwight and Jim on "The Office."

One day, Conway called me into our sports editor, Herb Stutz's, office. She asked Herb to switch Chris and I so I would sit across from her instead of "that obnoxious man." Herb said he'd think about it. Chris never moved. Herb came out of his office later that afternoon and told Chris: "Be nice to Ann." He smiled and walked away. Laughter ensued.
—Mike Reilley

A complete original—smart, caring, tenacious and totally authentic. Chris was Chris whether you liked it or not. It was a gift to me to reconnect with Chris over the last few years, just wish we could have had more time—and one more Springsteen concert—together.
—Pete Ditto

Chris was a terrific writer and reporter, and a fantastic friend. So supportive, so generous with his praise. Just a lovely person.
—Sam Farmer

Every moment with Chris is memorable! Parties, BBQs, family gatherings, debates and moves (Chris never let Eric forget about hauling the fridge up 2 flights of stairs, but it made up for waking Chris at his folks’ home and loading all his unpacked worldly possessions). A favorite memory is from the Christmases several of us young families celebrated together. One year something got crispy in the Foster kitchen and the smoke detectors started going off, one by one. The shrill siren was matched only by our infant daughter’s ear-piercing wail. The vision of Chris running, leaping and yanking each smoke detector from the ceiling (there were 12!!) was astounding. Was he motivated by love for our daughter, care for his exasperated friends, or simply stopping the screeching. Possibly all 3. Thanks for always watching out for us Chris. We love you! We miss you!
—Eric and Stacey Howmann

Chris' constant smile and terrific sense of humor will never be forgotten. I always enjoyed working with Chris in OC! RIP.
—Sheila Kern

Wow, the ultimate good dude. So many shared stories, but suffice it to say he’s launching a poker party somewhere by playing Kenny Rogers The Gambler as loud as it can be played. RIP my good friend, you made the world a better place!
—Brent Mason

It was never really work with Chris. I remember one hot summer day he and I left the stuffy Times' Costa Mesa HQ and went bowling. We bowled and chatted with some people and Chris and I (but mostly Chris) turned it into one of those Summer Specials we were assigned to do after the prep season ended. That was Chris. He was always thinking on his feet. Plus, he had gloves he used especially for moving days. Anyone else remember that? It just came so easily, so naturally to Chris. He'll be missed, that's for damn sure.
—Elliott Teaford

So very sad. I didn't know him well, but every time I saw him, always with Gay, who I knew and worked with at CSULB for years, Chris was witty, smiling and just darn cool and nice. A caring man, Love to you, Gay and Mark.
—Colleen Bentley

Chris was never one of my writers but I would often call him for help, NHL playoffs, NFL ... and he never turned down lending a hand. Not once. Features, deadline sidebars, whatever.

I thought he was especially great at doing historical pieces, but typical of Chris he'd always downplay his contribution. I remember our conversation about doing those stories, and asking him: "How do you always pull these off even when you are parachuted in? All the voices. The anecdotes. It is amazing." His response: "All I do is turn on my tape recorder and say: What do you remember?"

Sure, that easy Chris. All heart, and that's why he connected with everyone.
—Athan Atsales

Rest easy Chris. Hup Holland Hup!
—Hans Tesselaar

I wasn't close with Chris, but we did sit feet from each other for years in the OC newsroom, he in Sports, me in Calendar. One day, prepping to interview Dennis Rodman at a new nightclub, I asked Chris what the heck I should ask Rodman, knowing almost nothing about basketball. "Ask him what his real hair color is," Chris said. I did, making Rodman chuckle and producing a memory that Chris and I would enjoy recalling years later.
—Zan Dubin

Gay has been my best friend since we were 13 years old. We traveled together to Hawaii in 1987. On that trip, she casually mentioned that she met a guy. I thought he must be pretty special for her to share this with me. When I asked, she said "He's okay." It was so her. When I met Chris, he was a big guy, with a loud tie-dye T-shirt and a wonderful, infectious smile. He and Gay were so different; when they say opposites attract, the saying must be true. They were so good to each other.

For Gay's 60th birthday, Chris wanted to give her something special, something she never had before. It was a surprise birthday party and he asked me to be his partner in crime. He worked hard carefully planning, then Gay threw him for a loop—she retired before the party! Chris no longer had the luxury of working on his party during the day. He had to scramble to hide all of his stuff for the big event at his neighbors' homes, fearing she would stumble across something he didn't want her to see. It was so funny. He was so funny.

Thanks to Chris, that party brought Gay and I closer than we had been in years. Chris would scold us for not getting together more often but we were busy working and raising our families. I am forever grateful to him for giving me back my dear friend. He was the best of the best. We will all truly miss him.
—Carrie Nakatani

Truly one of the best humans that I have been blessed to know. Chris Foster, the moment that I got the news, the world felt somehow less witty, kind and insightful with you not in it. You were so dear to so many. Your quips and insights were unmatched by any other most of us have known. Thank you for your wonderful friendship that I treasure and the memories together as young writers on our high school newspaper together … which several articles we co-wrote landed us in the principal’s office more than once. You successfully pleaded our Right of Free Speech and we were untouched by the long arm of the Capistrano Unified School District. You are forever in our hearts. Gay, we are here for you.
—Lynnea Cheatum Oakes

I was nervous as hell when I took on the task of covering the Ducks, which was my first pro beat. To this day, I joke that I thought I'd last only six months before Bill Dwyre would tell me the jig was up and say, "Nice try, young man."

I'm still covering hockey and fooling everyone after nearly two decades but Chris helped get me through those initial days, putting me in contact with those I needed to know and instilling confidence when I was unsure of my abilities. And as many have stated, he was always there for you. Always. The stories of how he kept coaches on their toes and called them out for their dishonesty are legendary. Just a joy of a man who loved his family and a hell of a journalist.
—Eric Stephens

He was a tenacious reporter; I suspect for coaches seeing Chris at your door gave you the same sinking feeling that Mike Wallace would when chasing down a story.
—Steve Straehley

Always playing "our" song ("Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton) by the campfire at the Carlsbad campground!
—Jaime Weyler-Chavez

One time the checks didn't come on time at the OC Times and I had paid bills counting on the direct deposit. I was stressed incredibly, and he just said, "How much do you need?" He lent it and I paid it back in a few days. Never occurred to me that someone would do that kindness.

His charity knew no bounds: I ran into him and John Penner circa 1991 at a Billy Bragg concert and I even had a date. ... Foster and Pen somehow charmed her and told her what a great guy I was. She seemed to believe them for a while! Chris and I used to play APBA computer baseball in the summer/slow days and that was great...but I didn't want to draw him for the Mile Square Park hoops games! Miss that guy. Drove me crazy at times, but upon reflection, that probably had more to do with me than him.
—Ara Najarian

Respected his writing and reporting. Enjoyed his humor. Always had a mischievous grin and a knack for snark. RIP.
—Barry Faulkner

Eight years, many stories and a number of characters. Chris's output was impressive during my eight years as a copy editor with the Los Angeles Times, and that was just in print. If you add up the numerous conversations he had with just about anybody, those numbers on stories and characters surely would shoot much higher.

I knew him a relatively short time, but I can still feel his warmth and his passion nonetheless. About five or six years ago, he cold-called me at the New York Times, searching for a phone number or contact he needed for an alumni project. That voice, so familiar, easily drew me into a conversation about practically everything, that is, except the phone number and email address he was looking for.

Finally, we got to the point and he obtained the information he needed. As he said goodbye, he offered his thanks, issued an invitation to look for him should I ever return to Southern California and then he asked that I call him immediately should I need his help for anything. Not a specific problem. Just anything. So please allow me to revise my initial computation on Chris. Many years, stories too numerous to count and one man of great character. Thank you, Chris.
—Mark Pargas

Chris was known as a tenacious reporter, which I always felt stemmed from him “never wanting to let anyone down.” He always wanted to do a great job. His work was important to him. But his family and friends? They were, rightfully, even more important. There were a lot of things I admired about Chris, but his loyalty to his family and friends was what I admired most. Many of us probably have a “best” friend or two, I imagine Chris was considered best by far more than few. That’s what I’ll remember most. Well, that and “One Town, One Team” — his favorite San Clemente rallying cry.
—Mike Hiserman

When I played high school soccer, Chris would come by to watch some of my soccer games. He would always stop by after the game to say “hi” and complement me on a great game.
—Sheryl Ghonim, cousin-in-law

One of my favorite memories was the year that we armed ourselves with annoying toy guns on Christmas morning … waited until Uncle Chris woke up, and he begrudgingly made his way out to the family room. Then we all aimed the guns at him in surprise. He was not a happy camper Christmas mornings after a night of Christmas celebrations or late nights working. I remember everyone taking turns of who would dare to wake him up. But hey, we wanted our presents! Annoying one another is a form of love in our clan and I know we hit the mark with that one.
—Nicole Blea

There are so many memories and stories involving happy times, and even sad ones too, where Chris was the true definition of a friend. He somehow knew when he was needed most and would appear with a funny quip, a phone call or a shoulder to provide support.

This man had a zest for life, which makes it hard to pick just one or two stories. He could fling himself into everything, from basketball to soccer to kayaking. Yes, kayaking. There was a time where we ran into him in the canals around Naples in Long Beach and he was so excited that his vessel flipped over. Alas, there is no video. Where was TikTok when we needed it?!

Chris passed away 13 days after Irish singer Shane MacGowan, famously of the Pogues. I suspect that Chris and Shane are up in heaven having an epic jam session along with Tom Petty, another Foster favorite. RIP my friend.
—Lisa Dillman

A few come to mind… I covered a lot of UCLA football and hockey alongside Chris. No matter what city all of us reporters were in — from Eugene to El Paso — Chris would always make sure I got safely to my car. It was under the guise that I got lost everywhere I went. We had fun with that, but he was being kind and thoughtful!

Spent a couple of New Year’s Eves with Chris and Bill Plaschke in El Paso covering the Sun Bowl. No one wanted to be there on NYE and we all complained about it. But man, he made it fun and bearable. And that’s saying something.

Lastly, after I returned to work covering UCLA football following my mom’s passing, Chris was there the next day at football practice with something he grilled. I’d heard him talk about grilling but had never had any of his entrees. What a kind gesture. It was his way of saying sorry. He will be missed!
—Jill Painter

I am heartbroken to learn of the passing of Chris Foster, a former colleague and friend at the LA Times. Whether he was covering the preps, Ducks hockey or UCLA football, Chris was the hardest-working journalist that I ever had the pleasure to work. He never got beat on a story and wrote some of the most endearing features that one could ever hope to read. When Chris learned that football coach Tom Baldwin had organized a toy drive for kids in Tijuana and wrote a story about the kind act, he joined Baldwin in the ensuing years to work for the underprivileged kids. That was the kind of man that Chris Foster was until the day he died.

My heart goes out to his family and friends. Right now, I'm imagining that Foster, Mike Penner and Chris Dufresne are having a roundtable discussion and "tipping a few" with former Cal State Fullerton baseball coach Augie Garrido and former UC Irvine basketball coach Bill Mulligan in heaven. Someday, I'll share the "Team Handball" story that Chris, Mel Franks and Bill Robertson played out at a local Fullerton watering hole during the 1984 Olympics. Or maybe it's better that I take that one to my grave. I visited with Chris several years ago in his beloved hometown of San Clemente and he started the conversation by doing his hilarious impression of Katella High School basketball coach Tom Danley. He made me laugh, he made me cry and above all, he made me glad that I knew him. God Bless Chris Foster. You were one-of-a-kind my friend.
—Tom Hamilton

There are so many beautiful memories and so many funny anecdotes, that it's almost impossible to pick a few to relate. Over the last 11 years that we were neighbors, Chris (& Gay & Mark), became family for us. Chris was someone we knew we could call upon any time of day or night and he would be ready to help, no matter what. Every time we step out of our house, we half expect his booming voice hollering a greeting from across the street. We miss the hour-long conversations we had across our fence or in his driveway and sometimes in the middle of the street. We miss the campfires & potlucks he and Gay so graciously hosted on their lawn for the neighborhood, his amazingly potent and delicious Sangria.

And in my opinion, Chris made the best chicken piccata. Every memory brings a smile to our faces, tinged with a prick at the heart when realization sets in that now we only have memories of our dearest friend, Emperor of the Kingdom of Arabella Place (as he and we called him) best neighbor ever. We love you and miss you Chris. ❤️
—Meera Patil

I’ll forever remember Chris playing his guitar, singing songs around the campfire at Carlsbad. He was the kindest, most gentle giant. I feel so lucky to have known him and have him been apart of my life growing up. From camping trips to him and Gay being able to watch me get married on the Central Coast. He was such a light in a sometimes dark world. I like to think that the next time I will see him he’ll be ready and waiting with his harmonica and guitar asking me for a song request. Until then Chris: I love you, I miss you and rest easy.
—Niki Starr (Weyler) Fitzgibbon

Absolutely stunning. A fine journalist and a terrific guy, who always seemed to enjoy life's journey. My deepest sympathies to Gay and Mark.
—Van Nightingale

I enjoyed Chris’ sense of humor. A number of years ago before Thanksgiving, I had a phone call. The caller said, “I'm a Republican pollster”—(click!) I hung-up the phone. A few seconds later the phone rang again. This time, the voice was laughing—"This is Chris, come over for Thanksgiving.” At that point we were all laughing. He will be missed.
—Ray Yee

Such sad news. I sat behind Chris in the LA Times Orange County Edition's sports department for many years. He was a tough, no nonsense reporter and a gifted writer. He taught me a lot about how to deal with the big bully Catholic school in Santa Ana, which served me well throughout my time in Orange County.
—Dave McKibben

When Gay and I had finished practicing our singing and playing guitar and ukulele recently at their home, he complimented us and said we sounded good. I responded, “Thanks for the kind words!” He said, “There’s nothing kind about them…I only say what I mean, and I mean you were good.” In this small exchange, I got to know about Chris’ straightforwardness which made his comment that much more meaningful. I’m truly grateful for this memory.
—Diane Michioka

He was a wonderful human. I am so sad to hear this news. Caring and thoughtful. And he gave a sh*t about things. Will sure miss him.
—Dave Lesher

The days on the Saddleback College Lariat student newspaper were unforgettable. Those lucky enough to be part of it bonded for life. Several of us will attend the memorial, and we would not miss it for anything.
—Carol Ziehm

Chris was the Dufresne family’s number one fan and my dad's best friend. He was always there to support our sports and music adventures and was the best person to talk Angels baseball with. ❤️
—Drew Dufresne

Chris, a dedicated father and husband. He brought much joy and laughter when in his presence during days at the Concert in the Park in Cerritos and celebrating birthdays.
—Alice Cunningham

Chris was the one you could count on to bring the neighborhood together. Always planning a holiday potluck at his house. He's the reason we got to know more about and become friends with our neighbors.
—Jason Parilla

Chris cared deeply about equity for persons with disabilities in his community. I will be forever moved by his commitment to community advocacy.
—Jill Dolan