Sports have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and my grandfather was the reason for it. I have never been the most athletic kid, nor the best at what I did, but I was usually one the coaches could count on. I rarely made mistakes, and knew the rules and basics to everything I did. I credited my grandfather for that.
He would take me to all kinds of sporting events, and would come to all of mine. While watching a game he would teach me the fundamentals of the game, what to do and what not to. And after every one of my games he sat down with me and told me how to improve. He was like a father.
He died in front of me on October 18, 1999. Two days earlier we were coming home from a Penn State football game, when we stopped to get something to eat. After dinner he collapsed in the bathroom. This was one of the most traumatic events, if not the most traumatic event, to ever happen to me.
I was distraught after that weekend; I didn’t want to do anything. I missed and entire week of school and ceased playing sports. I gave up. How could God take him from me?
With time I recovered. I began playing all the sports I once quit. And now I’m fulfilling his dream and I will graduate from Penn State with two degrees. This is what he would have wanted and what I want as well.
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