The fight that really matters
I'm not really sure how to start this column. Or how to end it. Or what to put in the middle to be honest. Sports columns that try to tell you sports aren't that important usually come off as preachy and that's not what I'm going for. And telling you you shouldn't care that much is not only hypocritical, but kind of stupid of me, since you caring so much is how I make a living.
But sitting in a hotel in Nashville, getting ready to cover the first NCAA Tournament game for Missouri in five years, all I can think about this morning is how inconsequential it all really is.
Look, the game's important to you all or you wouldn't be on this website. And that's cool. The games are important to a lot of people. But while we're all busy wondering if Jordan Barnett's absence will sink Missouri on Friday or whether Michael Porter Jr. can get hot and carry the Tigers to a miraculous Sweet 16 bid this weekend, life has spent the last few days reminding a lot of people around Mizzou that there's a world full of things that really matter out there.
On Wednesday night, I got a text from a friend that Heather Morris had passed away. Heather was the director of the Enhanced Learning Program at Mizzou, and from what I've heard, someone that the school's athletes absolutely loved. Her husband was--no, her husband is, because 24 hours is way too damn soon to start talking in the past tense--Mike Morris, who played offensive line at Missouri in the late 1990's.
Mike and I were in school at the same time and had quite a few mutual friends. I covered the teams he played on at KOMU. Probably my favorite story I ever did was going to the Mazzio's Pizza buffet with Mike and three of his teammates on the offensive line. Man, those guys put on a show. I'm pretty sure allowing them "all you can eat" is one of the main reasons Mazzio's was closed by the time I moved back to Columbia in 2003.
Heather was diagnosed with breast cancer in July of 2015. She beat that. And then a few weeks ago, the cancer came back. It was in her brain this time. This was a battle she could not win.
Mike is an assistant coach at Battle High School. He and Heather have two children. You can read a little more about the Morris family's fight here.
Fuck cancer.
Lizzy Wampler was nine when she got her diagnosis. Freaking nine. That was in November of 2016.
That little girl battled her ass off for 16 months. Cancer took her at 3:30 this morning. What the hell do you say about that?
A few weeks ago, Missouri basketball hosted its annual Rally For Rhyan Game. Each player wore the name of a local child fighting cancer on a warmup shirt. Lizzy's name was on the back of Michael Porter Jr.'s shirt. Michael visited her on March 10th. She fought for almost five more days after that.
I didn't know Lizzy or her family. But like a lot of people in Columbia, I now know about her. She's braver than I am. She's braver than most of us are. Maybe there's some grand, cosmic reason what happened to her happened to her. But I don't know what it is. You don't have to know Lizzy or have a child of your own for your heart to break reading about Lizzy and thinking about her parents.
Fuck cancer.
Riley Maher is 16. She is a student and a lacrosse player (damn good at both of them if you believe her dad) at O'Fallon Township High School, just across the border in Illinois.
I found out about Riley's story through a post on our message board on November 1st.
I've talked to Riley's dad, Jeff, quite a bit since then. Turns out, we grew up five houses away from each other. Our dads played on the neighborhood softball team together.
I've gotten to meet Riley twice, and her sister Adler once. Great girls. They're twins. Strong and happy.
Riley recently finished her sixth round of chemotherapy over the course of five months. She has a PET scan on March 19th. On March 21st, next Wednesday, she will find out if the cancer is gone.
Can you imagine waiting that long to find out if your 16-year-old daughter still has cancer?
Jeff is a passionate Mizzou fan. He might know more about Missouri basketball recruiting than I do. A couple of times this year, he has texted me after a tough loss for the Tigers. From Riley's hospital room.
Thanks for the perspective, Jeff.
On April 4th, O'Fallon will have a charity game between the boys' and girls' lacrosse teams. The jerseys will be green t-shirts with the words "Riley Strong" across the front. Proceeds from the game and sponsorships will be donated to St. Louis Children's Hospital, where Riley has gotten her treatment.
Riley's goal is to get back on the lacrosse field this year. Not in a charity game, but in a real one. I don't know if that's possible. Nobody does right now. But I won't bet against her.
I put Jeff in touch with someone to get tickets to a couple of Missouri basketball games this year. He and his daughters have gotten to enjoy a couple of nights away from their daily fight. They've gotten to know Cuonzo Martin and he periodically reaches out for updates on Riley.
Leading up to the first game Jeff and Riley came to, she asked her dad, "Why are they doing all this for me?" Because you inspire us, Riley. Because you fight. And we can't do anything about the cancer, but we can try to do something to repay you for that inspiration.
Cancer beat us twice yesterday. Not again. Not if Riley has anything to say about it. Let's put this one in the loss column for this dreadful disease.
Fuck cancer.
Three stories, three women, all connected to the school we follow and the teams we say we live and die with. But that's kind of a stupid phrase, don't you think? We don't live and die with them. We root for them. It's fun when they win and it sucks when they lose. But there are real battles of life and death going on out there. Sports are just a diversion.
So Missouri tips off in the NCAA Tournament for the first time in five years about 36 hours from now. And, really, I'm not telling you not to care or that it doesn't matter. You do and it does and that's why we follow it.
But it doesn't matter. Not really.
Heather Morris matters. Lizzy Wampler matters. Riley Maher matters.
Say a prayer for all of them and for their families. And then, yeah, watch the games. They're a lot of fun. We are passionate about them. But take a minute to remember, while we're all wrapped up in these games, life is happening out there.