His Many Pals Recall How Matt Enriched Their Lives

Matt Colby once wrote to a friend in one of his trademark on-line chats that when he died, he did not want to become a star. He wanted to be like the sun, always shining down on everyone.

After his death last week, Matt’s mother and grandparents said they are drawing some comfort from the fact that their beloved boy, with his bright smile and quirky outlook, lightened many lives.

As friends and family memorialized him this week, they drew a picture of a boy who could be by turns silly and sensitive. A guy who wore Mickey Mouse socks under his cleats, burned himself bright red rather than wear sunscreen and took a friend out for miniature golf almost every night for months to cheer him up.

But mainly they remembered Matt as a boy who didn’t reserve his friendship for fellow football jocks. Everyone could feel certain of a warm greeting.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Estancia High School principal Tom Antal, marveling at the diversity of Matt’s friends.

The linebacker attended Estancia for three years before transferring to Costa Mesa High School this year to follow his football coach, Dave Perkins.

On Sept. 28, Matt collapsed at a football game and never regained consciousness. He was removed from life support Sunday morning. A determination of the cause of death is pending.

Tonight, Costa Mesa High School will play a football game without Matt.

Many of the 200 people who attended a memorial service Wednesday night at Estancia had little in common, except for being a friend of Matt. Skinny skater punks with multiple piercings sat near football players with bulging muscles, all of them people who thoroughly liked and mourned Matt Colby.

One of Matt’s best friends, A.J. Perkins, remembered the first time he met Matt, when both boys went out for the freshman football team at Estancia.

“I remember thinking, how hard-core could this guy be, wearing Mickey Mouse socks with his cleats?”

Hard-core enough not to care about the unwritten rules of cliques and coolness that structure high school, said many students. He would talk to anyone, about anything. And he never snubbed anyone in the hallways, greeting everyone with a smile.

“He was so easy to talk to,” said A.J., Coach Perkins’ son. “Anybody he came across related to him in some way--because he was into so many kinds of things. He had so many different parts to him, and anyone who talked to him could get close to him.”

Matt never worried that macho football players aren’t supposed to be sensitive artists. Estancia junior Jessica Butler remembered the time Matt ended a phone conversation in order to take a picture of a particularly bizarre-looking bug. His grandfather had recently given him a camera, which he rarely put down.

On many Friday nights, he would convince friends to accompany him to Disneyland. Mario Macias recalled that Matt had figured out how to get on rides without waiting in line.

Matt refused to wear sunscreen when he went on fishing and camping trips with his grandfather. He would return red as a lobster and walking with a funny wobble so he wouldn’t irritate his burned skin. Of course, his friends would have known anyway, because Matt would not shut up about how excited he was to spend some time with his grandfather.

“Matthew could say ‘I love you’ with the greatest of ease,” said his grandmother, Marti Colby. “He never hung up the phone without saying ‘I love you.’ ”

He also loved sports of all kinds--especially, it seemed, those he did not know how to play.

One friend remembered the time she was on-line with Matt and mentioned that she was feeling sad. Abruptly, he said he had to go walk his dog, Chucky. Minutes later, Matt and Chucky were at her door to cheer her up.

“Whenever I needed to call someone, Matt was there,” said Diana Andrete, one of his best friends. “He could keep a secret, and he made you feel so special.”

“I loved him. The real, down-inside I love you,” she added, breaking into sobs. “I don’t think I said that enough to him. All of you should learn from this to tell people how much you love them.”

After many of the tributes, Kelli Colby, Matt’s mother, rushed to her only child’s friends to hug them.

“You are all my children now,” she said.

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Times staff writers Dan Arritt and Martin Henderson contributed to this report.