Lucky…

Last week I mentioned that our time at Double Lucky Ranch may not have been one the brightest spots in our lives, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t wonderful, lasting memories that were created there. This week I’d like to tell you a story or two that touched all of our hearts and continues to shape my life today.

To give you a little background, I must first introduce you to Lucky, our ranch mascot. He was one of our first (and best) acquisitions when we bought the ranch. As soon as he arrived he became a ranch favorite. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to us, he came in with a very contagious disease that quickly spread through the barn and closed us down for weeks. Through what seemed like endless days, we disinfected the barn and nursed all the affected horses back to health, but Lucky just couldn’t kick it. Eventually we determined that a risky and very expensive surgery was needed to save his life. That alone is another story for another time, but the great news is he made it through and made it back to the ranch.

Did I mention that Lucky was a Clydesdale? He was a gentle giant, weighing in at over 2,200 pounds and standing over 18 hands tall. (For those who don’t speak horse, at the shoulder he was taller then me and I’m 6’2″.) He had the run of the ranch, all 17 acres. While other horses were led to their turnouts, he loved to wander the grounds, overseeing his kingdom with complete freedom. I could jump on him anytime, no bridle, no saddle… it was like riding around on a La-Z-Boy recliner.

One of the most rewarding things we loved to do at Double Lucky Ranch was host specialty groups like Girl Scout and Boy Scout troops. One group we hosted was a school for the blind. They came in with over 30 students, plus teachers and chaperones, more than 50 in total. The day started with me giving an introduction to the ranch, what the day would bring, and of course, Lucky. Now, these kids ranged in age from 6 to 18. Many were born without sight but several had lost their ability to see after birth. A few still had limited vision.

During my little speech, Lucky was stone-still at my side… but that doesn’t mean these kids didn’t know he was there. I described the beast that stood before them but that couldn’t come close to the stimulus he naturally sent out to them. When you’re 2,200 pounds, you can’t breath quietly. If you have a 6-foot-long tail, you make a sound when you swat flies. And after all, he was a horse, so the smell was unmistakable.

There was a very pretty 6-year-old girl in the front row with long sandy blonde hair. She sat very attentive and quiet during my little spiel, but as soon as everyone was dismissed for the next station, she immediately came forward asking to see what Lucky “looked” like. Her mother told me that she was blind from birth but would like to touch him to get a better idea of what I had described. Lucky came forward and dropped his head until his nose nearly touched the ground without any direction from me. Even then his head was taller than she was. With absolutely no fear, she reached out and ran her hands all over his head. Rubbing his muzzle, fingers up the nose, stroking his forehead, pulling his ears… Through it all he seemed to understand and even gently leaned into her attention. After a couple of minutes of her exploring all of him that she could reach, she stepped back and proclaimed, “Thank you. Now I know what he looks like.” All Amy and I could do, through our tears, was to nod at each other, knowing we were doing something good.

Many heart-touching stories came out of that day but I’d like to share just one more with you. During my career I’ve run many events and consider myself pretty organized, but on game day – it’s time to wing it. Amy, on the other hand, is overly organized and loves to script every detail. That day we set up various stations for the kids like grooming horses, decorating horseshoes, and playing musical haybales. Amy printed out a color-coded chart for all those in charge of the event listing each station rotation. Between my introduction and the first station, a 12-year-old boy with very limited sight got a hold of one of Amy’s charts. He held it up to within an inch of his face, then boldly proclaimed, “Whose bright idea was this? A color-coded chart for blind kids?!?” Within a very short amount of time we had gone from crying our eyes out to sitting on the arena floor laughing our asses off.

Those kids taught me a lesson that I still carry with me and apply to my life today. I have ALS. I am not ALS. Not a single one of them felt sorry for themselves. They’re playing the cards they’ve been dealt and are playing to win. I have no doubt that now, 15 years later, every one of those kids is successful and happy, no matter what road they’ve chosen to travel and still not making excuses. I just hope I can be like them when I grow up.

Toby Keith wrote a song with Willie Nelson about good men and good horses. It may not be the best fit for the story but I like it so… here you go.

Switching gears a bit…I’m not much of one to share grief or sadness but since I’ve let all of you into my personal life already, well… man, what a week it’s been.

February 28, 1983 the show M*A*S*H came to a end. One of my fraternity brothers owned a bar where we all gathered to watch the final episode. It was a great night together with good friends and was also close to the end of my college career. I just reflect now because as moments like these come and go, others await to be discovered. I hope I’ve learned and benefited from what is now past and can use that knowledge to make the future that much more joyous for all. Below are a few of those blessings that are now in the past. Their contributions to my life will not be wasted.

To start this week, Amy and I lost our 105-pound baby girl, Rye. She gave us all she had for almost 13 years, more than a year longer than her sister, Jameson, gave us. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if she hadn’t blessed us with her presence through so many great times. I’d just like to thank God for bringing her into our lives and ask that he assure her that Amy will have all her beds packed (10+) as well as all her “guys” (countless). Save us a spot by a river at the base of the mountains, Baby Girl.

That same day, Pope Francis decided to take his final bow. I’m not Catholic so his passing wasn’t a huge event for me, but I will miss his outside-the-box interpretations. One of my favorite moments of his tenure came when he was comforting a young boy who was mourning the death of his dog. He said that, “All of God’s creatures can make it to heaven.” I’m kind of hoping that mosquitos and ticks don’t make that list, and I’m not 100% convinced, but it’s comforting to think about. RIP Pope Francis.

As the week ends, Steve McMichael was taken by Lou Gehrig’s disease. Living in Chicago it has been impossible not to follow his years-long struggle with ALS, having to watch it ravage his body. As I write today, both old and new images continually pop up on the news. I have to admit that I find pictures of him over the last couple of years extremely hard for me to look at as they hit way too close to home. I’ll promise you now that you will never have to worry about pictures of a declining Coach here (we’ll just stick with the young and good-looking ones). The Righteous Brothers sang about a “If There’s a Rock And Roll Heaven, there must be a hell of a band.” Well, if there’s an NFL in heaven, they just got one hell of a defensive tackle. I hope you’re up there causing chaos, Mongo.

Posting the Superbowl shuffle just reminds me that since I’ve been in Chicago, I’ve seen six Bulls championships, three Stanley Cups, and two World Series winners (I’m not a Sox fan but it still counts). I plan on being around to see the Lombardi Trophy one day and hopefully a new stadium.

You probably feel like you’ve been watching tennis with all of my bouncing back and forth this week. Thanks for hanging in there. Now that I’ve let it out, it’s time to let it go. Tomorrow is a new day full of new blessings.

God bless.

Coach