The Last Minute of Play

A proviso before you read today's blog. I will be citing an event from the Christian celebration of Easter. That said, this blog is not about Christianity, or preaching, or theology, although there is a hint of spirituality. I am using these examples in part because it is a tradition with which I am familiar, but also because as a cultural reference it is relevant to the subject.

Last Friday Pat Burns, former coach of the Habs, the Leafs, the Bruins and the Stanley Cup winning New Jersey Devils, stood before a crowd in the Eastern Townships in what was likely his last public appearance. Burns has battled and survived colon cancer and liver cancer. Last year, when he was diagnosed with lung cancer, Burns decided that he would not, and perhaps could not, battle any further.

Burns' rare appearance was to celebrate the construction of a new hockey arena in Stanstead that will bear his name. He flew in from Florida against doctor's orders to be present at the announcement. Burns took the occasion to recall the time he spent as a junior coach in Sherbrooke when he had developed an affection for the Eastern Townships. He became a regular summer resident in the area and admitted his heart was always there.

Burns also spoke about the inevitability of his death in a wistful but frank manner. He acknowledged the love of his family, the dedication of his colleagues, players, coaches, and team owners, specifically Lou Lamoriello of the New Jersey devils. He was humble and appreciative of having the new facility named in his honour, although he openly conceded that he probably won't live long enough to see its completion.

The role of a coach is not always easy. Sometimes you have to make difficult choices, face heartbreaking defeats and yet somehow encourage your team to recover and prepare for the next game. Success as a coach often means pushing players to their breaking point and forcing them to see the consequences of poor effort and selfishness. The most valuable quality any coach can have is the ability to inspire.

In the Christian tradition, this past Sunday is known as Palm Sunday. This is a ritual celebration to mark Jesus' return to Jerusalem. It is part of a series of events leading up to Easter that mark a journey that would ultimately lead to his death. The name is derived from a description of Jesus riding into the city on a lowly pack animal, with some of his followers placing their coats on the path and many placing palm branches. In that era, such an act would have been reserved for the elite of society or a high ranking official. Jesus was neither.

Regardless of your religious or philosophical beliefs, there is something remarkable about this event. Jesus knew that his fate was sealed; one doesn't stand up against the Roman Empire and just walk away. He could have tried to run, he could have cowered, he could have wept and plead for mercy. Instead, he chose to face his mortality in the same way in which he led his life. Many Christians regard this event as one of triumph and courage.

Pat Burns looked gaunt and frail as he stood before a crowd of reporters, family, colleagues and community members. His voice was weak and gravelly. He could have bemoaned his fate. He could have been angry at the unfairness of life. He could have easily just sent a note from home. Instead, he gathered up his courage and strength and with a weakened voice defiantly declared that life is to be celebrated. He talked about the future for the community and its new arena, drawing people together with dreams of success and the stories to be told.

In addition to the timing, there is a Palm Sunday parallel to Pat Burns appearance last Friday, but it isn't about faith or spirituality. We are all mortals who only occasionally consider our own fate. The thought of death brings with it fear and dread, but seeing and hearing Pat Burns revealed that there is really only one way in which to face death. To live every moment, every second, right down to the very last, with courage, humility and thanksgiving. In essence, he gave back to the world the very gift that has served him best:  his ability to coach. It wasn't easy, but he certainly inspired us.

Perhaps triumph over death comes when we recognize that everything we have, our time, our abilities, our opportunities are all gifts. When we cling to these gifts for our own benefit they will die with us, but if we can find some way to give them back to the world, then they will live forever.

Thank you Pat, for continuing to encourage and inspire us, today and always.