Picking Splinters

Helpless. That’s the word Marshall boys basketball coach Kevin Weeren used to describe how he felt when he learned his father, Victor, had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. And there really isn’t a better term for the situation.

They call it a “fight” against cancer, but that doesn’t really do it justice. Cancer victims can battle cancer by undergoing chemo-therapy and other cutting edge medical treatments, even by using positive thinking. But for those people on the outside like Weeren, like myself, there can be an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness.

Cancer affected me before I was even born. My mother was diagnosed with, and, fortunately for me, survived cervical cancer. While I was in high school the mother of two of my closest friends was diagnosed with breast cancer. In 2003, my aunt was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and is currently in the hospital undergoing treatment. There’s nothing I could do then to directly help them and there’s nothing I can do now.

I can write letters. I can pray. But I can’t fight it myself. I can curse it, but I can’t hit it. I can’t eradicate it. It’s not a struggle or a fight at all from my side. But still the motivation is there, the urge to help in some way.

That’s why Weeren’s efforts, and even more so the efforts of Marshall students Holly Grant, Shaney Soderquist and Kenan Samman during last Friday’s Coaches vs. Cancer Night resonated with me. And the reason for that is two fold.

I understand where Weeren is coming from. Part of this has to do with the role sports played in my development. I hate losing. I hate watching the clock tick down knowing that there’s no chance at a comeback. It’s just not in me to admit defeat.

But to both Weeren and I, the feeling is personal. Our families have been affected by cancer and want to do something to help those that are close to us. These kids, on the other hand, have immersed themselves 110-percent in soliciting donations for the game, organizing events and then executing them in first class fashion. And to the best of my knowledge, none of these three has lost a relative or friend to cancer.

Being only six years removed from my senior year in high school I know that this kind of motivation is rare thing to come by. That was obvious with a significant number of the students in attendance Friday night. The group of students seated near me seemed more concerned with their various social agendas and gossip than any cause as large as life and death. But to me that’s what makes these three students, and the others who helped out with the event, so extraordinary. These kids are going well beyond the norm for high school students and are taking part in a cause much greater than anything students at any level are expected to undertake.

And they’re doing it because they know it’s right. It’s true that they’ll be using the project as part of the DECA research manual, but having spoken to them in person and seeing their enthusiasm when they talk about their work with elementary school students promoting cancer awareness, you know that this cause means a lot to them. It really isn’t as easy as it seems to walk around an arena full of your peers and ask them to purchase a purple ribbon for a dollar. There’s a whole lot more that goes into that task than mere sales tactics.

I find such dedication among these kids particularly inspiring and Weeren, their DECA advisors, and especially their parents should be proud.

And this brings me to my second point. The battle for cancer is bigger than the disease. Yes, the battle involves raising money for research with the ultimate goal of destroying cancer forever. But the battle is also about teaching compassion and caring and commitment. It’s about teaching life lessons and showing kids everywhere that there are larger causes out there. People like Weeren can contribute more than simply money to the cause. They can contribute inspiration and instruction. And that is precisely what I’ve seen over the past week. Weeren has a sign above his desk in the basketball office that reads: “There is no significant learning without a significant relationship.”

Weeren certainly had a significant relationship with his father. And it’s clear that this event has helped establish a significant relationship between Weeren, his team (who pooled their money for a donation to the American Cancer Society), and the student volunteers. And whatever the status of cancer research, the value of that relationship will have a lasting effect throughout their lives. And that’s something I guarantee you won’t find under the definition of helpless.

Mike Hume may be emailed at mhume@fcnp.com