Originally published January 3, 2011
Most men – and probably a fair share of women, too – could probably write the following sentence: My father instilled in me a love of sports. Tony Casella believed in sports. He was a big sports fan and he passed that passion on to me. I remember him taking me, as a preschooler, to watch the NBA Syracuse Nationals play the Knicks, Celtics, Royals and Pistons. There were uncounted AAA Syracuse Chiefs baseball games and a Yankees-Red Sox doubleheader in the Bronx. At home, sports was the default channel on the television. The MLB Game of the Week or college football on Saturday afternoons. The AFL Buffalo Bills on Saturday night and NFL New York Giants on Sunday afternoon. Bowl games and basketball, college and pro.
But Dad didn’t just watch. He played golf once a week until his body gave out. After he retired, he joined a gym. He played volleyball every week at the senior center. But Tony’s most important thing was playing third base for the Syracuse Cyclones. The senior league softball team was good. Very good. The team traveled to tournaments all around the country and even played in the National Senior Olympics Softball Championship game in 1989. It was something he could share with Mom, too – Connie was a cheerleader! The Cyclones were so important to Tony that, when younger old guys nudged aside the older old guys, he stayed on as scorekeeper.
It was Dad’s influence, then, behind a typical fall Sunday some 15 months ago. It was October 18, 2009. Tailgating outside Jacksonville Municipal Stadium before seeing the Jaguars beat the Rams 24-20. Then home to watch the second half of the four o’clock game on television. But the Patriots-Titans game was such a blowout – the final was 59-0 – CBS dumped out to show the Bills-Jets game. That network switch was the first step in an incredible cascade of circumstances. And that cascade led straight to Dad.
Seeing the Buffalo game reminded me of a fellow Syracuse University student who later played for the Bills. Keith Moody was a local kid who was a star defensive back and kick returner for the Orangemen. Keith was more than a student-athlete, though. He was also a husband and father to five children. Yes, five children. When his mom died a couple of years earlier, he adopted his younger brother and three younger sisters. Keith and I never met, but we did have one class together. I remember him as a quiet guy with an easy smile and an aura of dignity that seemed to set him apart from everyone else.
Keith made such an impression that I occasionally wondered, even some 35 years later, whatever became of him. But, on this particular Sunday afternoon, I finally acted on my curiosity. I Googled him. If I had known what the next minute would bring, I would have braced myself.
The first Google result was a profile in the Syracuse Post-Standard from – what a coincidence – that morning! The story said Keith – now a high school principal in California – would be inducted into the Greater Syracuse Sports Hall of Fame the next night. Very deserving. Actually overdue, I thought. I continued to read – other inductees were Edmund Dollard, Larry Kimball, and…
I was thunderstruck. I stopped breathing. Then, a huge smile strained every muscle in my face. Also being inducted the next night – the members of the Syracuse Senior Cyclones. My dad’s team, the team he loved so much, would be in the Hall of Fame alongside such legends as boxing champion Carmen Basilio, Nats forward Dolph Schayes, and SU basketball coach Jim Boeheim. And, of course, Keith Moody.
It took a few minutes for my brain to process the shock. The news came from nowhere and, for a family from the North Side that had sports in its DNA, it just didn’t – couldn’t – get any bigger. What would Dad think? I could only guess. I imagined him chuckling and smiling his biggest smile – the one that turned his eyes into slits. This kind, quiet, soft-spoken man probably wouldn’t have said much. He would’ve recognized it for what it was, a team honor. The Syracuse Sports Hall of Fame would give Dad yet another reason for being thankful for the experience of being a part of such a wonderful group of people. But most of all, I think it would reinforce the values that attracted Tony to sports in the first place.
Dad never talked about his values – hard work, honesty, integrity, faith. He simply lived them. And sports, in his view, exemplified those values. Pushing yourself to the limit of your God-given abilities. Poise under pressure. Teamwork. Honor. Sacrifice. Always putting others before yourself. And, of course, fun.
Aren’t those the values that attract us to sports? Think of your most unforgettable sports moments. They probably have as much to do with your values as the final score. For me – Keith Smart’s dagger and Hakeem Warrick’s redemption. Jack Nicklaus’ putt at the Masters. Tony Boselli running down and then thrashing an opposing cornerback who taunted Mark Brunell after an interception. And many others. We all have those profound moments when sports teaches us some of life’s most valuable lessons.
That Sunday afternoon a year ago October went beyond a life lesson. Beyond improbability. Beyond coincidence. If the Patriots weren’t blowing out the Titans, CBS would never have switched to Buffalo. Without that switch, I would never have thought of Keith Moody. If Keith’s character wasn’t so impressive, I would never have bothered to look him up. If all of these things hadn’t fallen into place, I would have never known about the Cyclones entering the Hall of Fame. And it all happened some 24 hours before the induction ceremony – almost exactly nine years to the day after Dad died.
Tony Casella believed in two things – sports, and something a lot bigger than coincidence. He passed both on to me. That’s why I believe what happened that October afternoon was at least 35 years in the making. Two pretty good lessons from Dad, even for a Hall of Famer.
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