[Vision2020] Coaching the Grief-stricken (Rick Reilly)

[Tom Hansen]

>From the "Life of Reilly" (By Rick Reilly) column of today's (April 27,
2007) Sports Illustrated -

Tony Dungy, to me, is what true Christianity is all about, a man who offers
an open hand and not a clinched fist.

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Coaching the Grief-stricken
By Rick Reilly

Maybe you could use a happy story after what happened at Virginia Tech, and
maybe I've got one.

I have this friend, an Iowa truck driver named Mark Lemke.  Last July he
wrote to Sports Illustrated, nominating his 19-year-old son, Cory, for "Face
in the Crowd.  Said the kid set all kinds of golf records and he'd been
meaning to write for a long time.  Said he was finally doing it now because
Cory had just died in a motorcycle wreck.

Well, I wrote a column (August 21, 2006) about how I got Mark on his
cellphone as he was driving his tractor trailer on an Ohio highway and how
he wept while talking about losing his best pal.  And I don't know if it was
from thinking of my own 19-year-old son or what, but it's the only time I
ever cried while I wrote.

And then we made up a "Face in the Crowd" box for Cory and stuck it at the
bottom of the column.

Anyway, a couple months go by, and then Mark gets this call: "Mr. Lemke?"
the voice says.  "It's Tony Dungy."

Now, Lemke, 51, is an ex-jock with a simple life that a motorcycle drove a
hole through.  The most he hopes for when he gets off the road is his wife
Maud's sloppy joes and his favorite couch and maybe a frosty root beer and a
Vikings game to take his mind off Cory for a few hours.  So, naturally, he
figures the call is a joke.

"No, it is Tony Dungy," the voice says.  "I'm just calling to offer my
condolences to you and see if there's anything I can do to help you."

Now, you've got to understand, this was in October.  The Colts were into the
teeth of their schedule, the most critical season n Dungy's life, not to
mention Peyton Manning's, not to mention the millions of Colts fans'.  They
figure if their team doesn't win it all this year, the genie goes back in
the bottle.

But Dungy has his own sorrow to swallow.  His 18-year-old son, James, hanged
himself three days before Christmas in 2005.  And Lemke knows this.  So
maybe Dungy, who's the same age as Lemke, is a guy who can relate.  So they
talk, and the coach tells Lemke to keep in touch.

"The hardest thing for me is, I sit in that truck all day, and all I do is
think about him," Lemke tells him one day.  "You're lucky.  You've got so
many people around you to get you through the days."

"Yeah," Dungy says, "but it doesn't get you through the nights."

And pretty soon they've got this bond going.  Dungy has a wife, five kids,
the monster job, numerous charities he works with and a thousand things to
do, yet he takes the time to answer every Lemke e-mail, gives him his cell
number and returns every call..  They go deep sometimes.  Lemke gets hot at
God for taking Cory.  Dungy tells him that's normal, but he adds that if
they keep their faith, "we'll see them again."

Then it's the playoffs, and Dungy is apologizing for not replying to Lemke
right away.  Sorry about not getting back to you, he e-mails Lemke one day.
Sometimes I can go a few days without getting on my computer, especially if
our defense is not playing well.

I ask you, who is that nice?

Next thing you know, the Colts are in the Super Bowl and Dungy is inviting a
man he's never met, a Vikings fan no less, to be his guest there.  So Lemke
finds a load that needs hauling to Florida and a load that has to come back,
and he drives his 18-wheel rig to Miami.  The day before the game he meets
Dungy in person at the team hotel.  They hug.  They visit.  They pray.  The
next day Lemke takes his seat in Dolphin Stadium and watches his new buddy
win it all.

And this is only one stranger whom Tony Dungy has befriended.  There's the
former high school coach in Wisconsin whose son committed suicide.  There's
the young kid in Indianapolis who lost his mother and brother in a car
wreck.  Heart-broken people all over are suddenly getting a hand up from a
man who himself should be a puddle but is instead a river of strength.

Yet Dungy refuses to talk to the media about these good deeds, which only
makes them better.

"I'm awfully grateful to him," Lemke says.  "He helped me keep my faith.  He
taught me that he and I - we're not alone."

After two weeks of hearing about how low man can sink, isn't it nice to know
how high he can rise?

Tony Dungy stands as a reminder to every parent who's grieving right now
that there is a way through the pain.  And that way is through each other.

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Seeya round town, Moscow.

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho

"Don't tell me why I can't.
Show me how I can."

- Author Unknown