In his 36th season of coaching, my dad and his Rare Breed team had a Saturday afternoon game that, by all appearances, seemed like any regular season game.  At the old Souderton field in Pennsylvania, the young clan came up with a win that brought on a highly usual amount of spirited applause at the whistle.
Knowing we had lost several games that fall and could not have possibly made play-offs, I turned to my family and asked, "What's all the commotion?"
I was then told how the win put their record at 6-5, giving the team that had five straight losses early on a winning season.
What happened in a year's time from that moment was almost impossible ~ except that it actually happened.
Just over three months following that contest, my parents attended the funeral of one of the very first and finest Rare Breed, gone to soon from heart failure and only in his forties. Afterwards, they went directly to their family doctor, there for the annual physical. The check-up had ended but for one final question from the doctor: "Is there anything you are experiencing that you want to tell me about?"
On any other day, my dad acknowledged that he would have left that office without saying a word.
Instead, something moved him to speak just one life-saving sentence: "Well, I have been having a strange taste in my mouth."
​Within the hour, the doctor sent him to the hospital for testing and, days, later, he underwent surgery to remove five blockages to his heart.
First, he turned, as always, to God. Then, he uncharacteristically took the rest of the year off from teaching, spent it doing every single thing the doctor ordered, and recovered in time to dodge what many thought would be inevitable retirement.  That July, he was inducted into the Pennsylvania Coaches Hall of Fame in Hershey.
But the story hardly ended there.
Remember that 6-5 team that excessively celebrated its final win the season before?
Well, they and their 68 year-old coach all went back to Hershey the next season and celebrated a whole lot more.
They won the State Title.

I wasn't an All-American, did not set any records, and never earned an athletic scholarship to a college or university. But my experience in high school and college sports quite possibly, more than any other period in my life, equipped me with lessons that I carry with me to this day. From my daily work and relationships, through unexpected challenges and severe adversities, what I learned on the court and in the moments preparing for the court forever etched a belief system built to field, endure, and withstand every curve ball life throws.
  
Playing basketball, lacrosse, field hockey, and other sports was such a fun way to spend so much of my youth. Learning how to master skills, work as a team, improve weaknesses, and create memories that I will always cherish are just some of the reasons I am so fond of this time of my life.

At the time, however, I did not know that I was learning more than how to shoot a basketball or cradle a ball in my lacrosse stick.  

​Lesson number one: Always have hope.

On more than one occasion, championship games I had the pleasure of being a part of were not just intense battles for the title. They were, in fact, highly improbable comebacks ~ and these particular games are the ones that remind me to keep at it, keep going, stay strong no matter what the circumstance. Have hope.

My favorite memory took place at West Chester Stadium on May 21, 1989 ~ though I would rather forget the first half.  Our lacrosse team was playing Trenton State for the NCAA Division III National Lacrosse Championship. By halftime, our squad was down 5 to 2 to a super offensive opponent with a long history of titles.  To a team that good and on a roll, being down by 3 goals with one half to go might as well been by fifty.

The second half looked entirely different from the first for one reason alone: we didn't lose hope. We believed we could dig our way out of the situation, and, little by little, goal by goal, we did. We didn't turn on each other or hang our heads. Instead, we put our lackluster first half behind us and set our eyes on the prize we hoped for ~ and achieved it, winning 8 to 6.  I wasn't just part of a great moment for me, my sister, my team, our coaches. I was learning how to approach life ... something sports had been teaching me all along.

In my almost 50 years, I have encountered so many people who have hopeless attitudes or insist that something cannot be done. I always pray for them to find hope. Whether it is overcoming tragedy, saving a marriage, going after a dream, or sometimes just getting through the day, there is no chance unless there first is hope.  And every time we endure and prevail over any trial, big or small, we build our own character ~ and that character produces hope for every obstacle thereafter.

Back in the day, as a teen, it may have been full-field sprints at the end of practice when it felt like my legs give way. Or it may have been what looked like an inevitable loss to a powerhouse opponent. Later in life, it became six fruitless months of looking for a job, or, at one point, having only seven dollars to last three weeks somehow.

They all ended well because of one thing I learned a long time ago.

Hope.

  Some sixteen years ago this weekend, my family and I rented a little cabin for President's Day. It was a cute little wooden thing situated in the middle of a quiet Pennsylvania campground. Next to it was a trailer that an elderly gentleman rented year round.
   As we sat by the fire we built outside, the man emerged from his trailer. We invited him over, and he sat with us for at least an hour. I am a huge sports fan, but I don't follow NASCAR and am in no way a connoisseur. To this day, however, I vividly recall the excitement of "John" so eager to watch the Daytona 500 finish that weekend and, in particular, his favorite, Dale Earnhardt.
    We shared a few beers, laughs, and stories before he disappeared into his trailer like a kid going to bed on Christmas Eve. He was beyond joy for the next day's event.
    Sadly, the following day brought one of modern day sports' saddest moments ~ the tragic passing of Dale Earnhardt.
     When we saw John, he was sad and despondent, truly heartbroken, and deeply impacted by the loss of one of the sports world's most prolific figures.  He said a few words to us, but then became tearful and went inside. To this day, when President's Weekend comes every year, I always think of of him.
  It doesn't matter that I don't understand NASCAR or know the drivers of that particular competition. I do understand the power of sports and the message a given athlete can deliver to an everyday person...including myself.
   We can easily get caught up in wins, trophies, championships, and records. These are great and dramatic things. But sports is so much more beyond them.
    The day Dale Earnhardt died reminds me of that.