Courage on the Court

I had a friend at my church. She was the church organist. For years she played the hymns, directed the chorus, helped with the Christmas pageants.

One day she and I were going to a church event, and I picked her up in my car.

"I have to get in slow," she said. "My back has been killing me these past few days!"

She had surgery to fix her back -- but it didn't help.

Then she got a devastating diagnosis. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS).

The next couple of years the congregation supported her efforts to play and lead the chorus. She played as long as she could. We were happy every time she was there, even if she couldn't play perfectly. It was okay with us just to have her there.

I thought of my friend today, when I saw an article in The Philadelphia Inquirer (January 26, 2025) about a basketball coach continuing to work despite his own battle with the disease.

What is ALS?

The word amyotrophy means muscle wasting or shrinking. The word lateral, as it relates to ALS, means "to the side," and indicates where the damage is happening in the spinal cord. Sclerosis means "hardened," which is how the spinal cord is described as the disease advances. ALS is a disorder that interrupts the communication between nerves and muscles. We run on electricity. ALS short-circuits our nerve signals.

It is often called "Lou Gehrig's disease," after the famous baseball player, although I hear that less often these days.

Whatever you call it, it's a terrible disease with no cure. There are medications to slow it down and help with the symptoms. There is no knowing how quickly one will succumb.

Most cruelly of all, the brain is not that affected, so patients with this disease continue to remain conscious long after they are bedridden. You would think such a disease would kill one's spirit. Well, that depends.

An Athlete's Worst Nightmare

Pat Behan is a special advisor to head coach John Griffin III at Bucknell. He does this work while entirely bedridden, typing into a computer with his eyes. To understand how he's made this amazing achievement, I'll go back briefly to his career stages.

In high school, Pat Behan was a 6-foot-8 power forward who was good at shooting. (A power forward is something position like a center and is usually the tallest member on the team.) He arrived at Bucknell in 2006 and worked hard to make the team. He became good friends with John Griffin III, who eventually became head coach at Bucknell.

Behan started coaching in 2011 and made his way up. In 2022, at age 34, he noticed that he was feeling an odd weakness. He became unable to do push-ups. The illness rapidly took its toll after his diagnosis. At the end of the 2023 season, he had to resign from his position. He quickly lost all ability to move -- except for his eyes.

Such a diagnosis seems especially cruel for an athlete to deal with. Anyone might be discouraged and want to give up. But Behan found a way.

Behan remained passionate about basketball. His mind was as sharp as ever. He started watching games on television of his alma mater, Bucknell, and he would text advice to his old friend, John Griffin. He learned how to communicate to a computer using just his eyes, and started sending texts to his friend, advice about strategy. The advice was so helpful, the team decided to hire him on to serve as a special assistant.

Despite being completely bedridden, Pat Behan is still on the court. When asked about what the job is to him, replied, "More meaning. Purpose."

Isn't that what we all should have? Meaning and purpose? And yet we often float through life, as if we are ghosts before our time.

My friend, the church organist, remained active for a couple of years. The last time I saw her we were at a lunch together honoring Sunday School teachers. She was in a wheelchair and in excellent spirits. She needed help to eat. Not long after that lunch, she was hospitalized with pneumonia, and passed a few months afterward.

I do not know how long Pat Behan has to live, but his example teaches much about living with meaning and purpose despite impossible odds.