I love sports. There, I said it.

It occurred to me, some time ago, that if I want to work in sports I couldn’t be a fan of teams. I just can’t. It would violate the whole fairness thing that everybody seems to be ready to vindicate the media over their supposed lack of it. No Kansas State Wildcats, no Oklahoma City Thunder and, unfortunately, no Kansas City Chiefs. That last one hurts. I love the Chiefs and I always have (even through two 4-12 seasons and two 2-14 seasons) and it’s tough to think of not being able to root for my beloved Boys of Arrowhead anymore.

That realization led me to reevaluate my career path, something that is certainly not foreign on a college campus and I do not feel special by coming to this point in my life. To help out with that, I decided to take a different approach to sports; I decided to get to the core of what sports really are to me. I figured out that sports are not following stat lines or debating whether LeBron should sit out the final games of the regular season even though he doesn’t have to (which he shouldn’t. He’s the show in Miami and people go to games to see him) but they are about telling stories. In these stories, like in the case of play-by-play announcing, one tells the story as it unfolds before his or her very eyes, while others need some time and a little more careful crafting to really make them stick.

That sounds more like what I wanted out of sports: I wanted to tell a story, not of the game or of the organization, but of the people who play them. I wanted to tell stories of athletes that, despite an insane amount of self-criticism and adversity, still put it all on the line just for our entertainment. I can’t be a fan of teams, but you better believe I can be a fan of people.

Recently, The Prairie ran a seven-part series that I penned entitled “Love, loss and a little bit of softball.” The story featured Mercedes Garcia, the senior second baseman for Lady Buff softball and her struggle with losing her mother, Marchelle, to cancer this past year. Playing a prominent role in the story is junior shortstop Alyssa Lemos, who has also lost her mother to cancer. If you haven’t read it, it’s worth it. I warn you, however, it is a little lengthy so it will take some time (and maybe tissues to dry tears) to get through it. For those who have read it, I sincerely appreciate it.

However, stories do not happen on their own. It takes a team to put them together. I’d like to thank my team who helped with this story. First, thanks to Butler Cain, the advisor for The Prairie, and our editor-in-chief, Ashley Hendrick, for giving me the go-ahead for this story back in Fall 2012, for putting up with my pickiness when we were editing the project and for helping me through the seemingly inescapable writer’s block. I’d also like to thank Brent Seals, the Assistant Director of Athletic Media Relations, for his contributions to the story, Amarillo Globe-News sports editor Lance Lanhert for helping me out with the flow and structure of the piece and for just being a set of seasoned eyes to look it over. A big-time “thank you” also goes out to Michael Garcia, Mercedes’ brother for supplying many of the pictures and captions for the photos that were a tremendous help in the story.

I’d also like to thank Lady Buff left fielder Meghan Slattery for being my “character witness” in the story. Lady Buff softball Head Coach Kevin Blaskowski also deserves my thanks because he helped me in setting up times for the interviews, giving me information and anything else that I needed and for speaking his mind and demonstrating his passion during our interview.
Finally, but most importantly, I’d like to thank Alyssa and Mercedes for opening up their lives for me to put on paper. I knew, after talking to Blaskowski and interviewing Slattery, that this was a pretty good story, but without those two telling me their story, the story would not have been nearly thought-provoking or emotional or as powerful. I’ve always heard that to truly know someone, you need to walk a mile in their shoes. Because of their openness in this story, I have walked in their shoes, but, honestly, I don’t think I’ve walked six feet. The strength displayed by Alyssa and Mercedes showed me that I could get through anything in life, no matter how big or small.

I sat in the clubhouse at Schaeffer Park on a Sunday afternoon in January and interviewed Meghan, Alyssa and Mercedes, and I have to say that my entire outlook on life was changed in just seven hours. I have tremendous admiration for Alyssa’s passion for helping others and her desire to make sure that nobody, like Mercedes, has to go through that experience alone.
During my three hour interview with Mercedes, I can remember at least six different times that tears formed in the margins of her eyes and only once did the tears leave her eyes. Such impressive strength was on display.

But what is this story really about? It’s not about telling it to the papers or ESPN (the network has done a video called “Strength In Friendship”). It’s not about me, either. No. This story, this great story, is about you, the reader. How are you going to approach life after reading this story? I challenge each and every one of you to look at your own life, look at your stresses and do a careful evaluation. If Mercedes can make it through the death of her mother, you can make it through today.

Not only that, look at your own life and love it more and love everyone in it. That’s really what “Love, loss and little bit of softball” is about, all seven parts of it. It is proof that you have the same strength as Mercedes and as Alyssa. You just have to find it.

So, here’s to the story, the story of life. Live each day like it’s your last, like it’s your loved one’s last, and you will have a great story to tell somebody. And when you do tell your story, you will tell it well.