High School Sports Hall of Fame

There is an underlying reality to our lives that is always present but can only be seen clearly through the eyes of time.  No one else can claim this reality because it is our responsibility to grasp it.

It is the individual story of our lives.

For no one has breathed the air meant for us.  No one has walked in our footsteps.  Although there will always be similarities in the experiences of our lives, there will never be complete symmetry.  Our lives are exclusively ours.  They are ours to learn from.  To own.  To live.

I recently went home for a short but humble visit back to my hometown of Phoenixville, PA, as I was inducted into my High School Sports Hall of Fame.

To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to feel about the whole thing.  I have always had an unhealthy view of awards and such.  On the one hand, I always believed that I was not deserving even if I was, yet at the same time, I have always had a harmful attachment to awards, as if they defined me in some way.  That said, these conflicting feelings were feelings that I had when I competed.  I am now 40 and haven’t competed in much of anything in 15 years.  So, in many ways, it has been time itself that has allowed me to look at playing sports, especially during those crucial years of being a teenager, through a more transparent lens.

During the ceremony, I was given about three minutes to say a few words (I think I took about 10; sorry about that…but in my defense, I did have a long plane ride to think about it).

I decided to share three words about what playing sports, especially during those crucial years of my life, has meant to me taught me, especially now when sports is not a part of my life.  These words symbolize how playing sports has continued to guide me as a husband and father, community member, and world citizen.

First Word: Struggle

The beautiful lesson of failure and, at times, being humiliated.  This taught me what it meant to work hard, that life is complex, and that things are not just given to me. 

It was about learning that life is full of mistakes, mishaps, and failures and not just about getting a trophy; coming to see this opened up the opportunity to experience true joy.  A joy that comes from not keeping struggles from occurring but learning how to transform them into the good.  It was about learning to become transformational and not a slave to my feelings or results.

Even more critical than that is when you come face to face with the realization that not if, but when you do struggle, you connect with others who are going through the same in a much more profound way.  It is a powerful truth when you can look at someone else and say, “You too?”  Only then can facades be broken, authentic connections can be made, and life can begin.

There is a reason that baseball players have a tight-knit bond that goes beyond the playing fields and locker rooms.  A bond that is rooted in joined failure.  There might not be another sport on the planet where the best players in the world fail an average of 7 out of 10 times.  This understanding of transformational failure will either break you or create an empathy within you that can change the world.

This taught me a powerful lesson about authentic connection and community. It triggered the all-important truth that life is not just about me but about learning to be a part of something bigger than myself, which today means family and community.  And this all started in the old Phoenixville Middle School and High School locker rooms.

Learning about struggle and experiencing what authentic connection with another led me to…

The Second Word: Humility

This understanding that my life is much more than my selfish wants and desires, but that of a joined community, gives me the recipe for balancing who I am, being the best version of myself given the abilities and gifts that God has given me, and being with others who are attempting to do the same. 

So often in sports, we learn that you play for the name on the front of the jersey, not the name on the back.  Although I agree with this sentiment to a certain extent, in my experience, it is not an either/or paradigm but rather an “And.”  You play for both. 

True humility is not about thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less.  It is about holding firm to your dignity while treating others the same, not only those who wear the same jersey but those who wear the opposing one.  (And I guess we can add those people who wear the striped jerseys and blow whistles, too.)

This kind of respect for myself, my teammates, and my opponents has always been a strong message I received while playing Phoenixville sports.  Wearing purple and white was about learning the wonderful lesson of humility. 

But none of these lessons were discovered on my own; they were taught.  And for that…

We come to the last word: Gratitude

Standing up there in no way, shape, or form truly represents personal achievements.  There are so many that should be standing up there with me.  Past teammates and friends.  All those who have helped and encouraged me along the way.  Especially the coaches.

To my many coaches…starting with two who were with me that day.  Mr. Bill Dungee and Mr. Bob Ulisny were my little league coaches and first coaches in Phoenixville after moving here when I turned just ten years old.  Being the “new kid,” you did much more for me than you will ever know…thank you.

To Mr. Ridgeway, Mr. Coyne, in Middle School Baseball, Mr. Giffey for forcing me out of my shy shell and making me step onto the basketball court for the school team…to Mr. Lucas, Mr. Lehniger for teaching me basketball.  Thank you.

And to my high school coaches, Mr. Rocco, Mr. Hughes, and Mr. Jenkins, thank you for allowing me to enjoy basketball!

And To Doc Kennedy, Mr. V, Mr. Fricker, Mr. Webber and Joe Webber, and Mr. Sturgeon… thank you for teaching me, supporting me, believing in me, and giving this young, scrawny kid a chance to play baseball.  Thank You.

Yet, some taught and supported me more than the court or field could ever teach me. That is my family.

To my two brothers and sister who were involved in their sports and activities (and honestly, who I thought were better and more talented than I ever was), thank you for supporting mine…and I hope you know that I was always your biggest fan.

And finally, to my parents, who gave me the greatest lesson I could ever have gotten…their love. 

Every time I stepped foot on the field or court, I knew I was their son, whom they loved, who happened to enjoy playing sports, and, I guess, did OK at it.  I WAS NOT an athlete who excelled in sports and happened to be their son.  In today’s world, with the intense athletic pressures, I don’t take that for granted.  Mom and Dad, thank you for loving me as your son, first and foremost, sports or not. I love you.

There was a tremendous peace about going home and receiving this honor, maybe because time has healed me or because these words and lessons are no longer just for me to continue learning from.

I ended my speech by thanking those in my hometown of Phoenixville for teaching me so much.  But they did one thing more than that.

They have given me the greatest gift: the ability to pass on these memories and lessons to my two sons.  For that, I am grateful and proud to have my name on a plaque.