Coach

I was on my way out the door to see the Ohio State – Notre Dame Game that pitted my alma mater against Coach’s when I got the call from Jarvis. It’s one of those moments that I’ll always remember exactly where I was and what I was doing. Coach and I had been emailing back and forth for the past few weeks and I was eagerly awaiting our planned phone conversation after the OSU-ND game. There would probably be some friendly chirping about the game, but more importantly it was a time for us to catch up about the last few months of our lives.

I played for Coach from 1999 to 2002 and I still have a hard time calling him Steel to his face. I guess child hood first impressions of a man last forever. Through his help and support, I was able to play college lacrosse at Ohio State for the last 4 years. My first year in college knocked me to the ground. I didn’t see the field one time and was red-shirted. My ego was hurt and I wanted to transfer, but Coach wouldn’t have it. The whole summer between my freshman and sophomore year, he worked with me in the goal. We even started running and hitting the weights together. At that point, I didn’t think of him as a coach anymore. He was a friend. I was mainly a backup goalie in college, starting only a handful of games, but Coach helped me to make a difference on the practice field, in the weight room and in the locker room. He reminded me of how lucky I was and how many of the young, aspiring lacrosse players in the St. Louis area would trade spots with me in a heartbeat, even for just a day.

Our friendship continued to grow throughout my time at school. We spoke every month about lacrosse, women, God, school, life. Every time I came back from St. Louis for breaks or just a weekend trip, I always went over to his house to find him doing some weird exercise to fix his ailing back or sitting, spitter in hand, in his favorite leather chair from the Civil War era. He helped me get my first internship with Northwestern Mutual. He wrote a letter of recommendation that helped me get into grad school. The man was the older brother I never had.

Coach taught me to put everything I had into everything I did. If it was worth doing, it wasn’t to be done half-ass*d. He taught me to never be satisfied and to continually improve all parts of my life.

One story before I end this. Coach had a knack for breaking my thumbs. He took out both of them on multiple occasions throughout high school. He even broke one in warm-ups before the semifinal game against Rockhurst my sophomore year. During one of my summer vacations home from school, we went to Kirkwood Jr. High to take some shots. On the way over, he asked me jokingly if I was ready to take some damage. Sure enough, 20 minutes into the work out I had a busted right thumb.

I suppose that every time I look at my mangled thumbs, I’ll think of him grinning up in heaven.

To the Sennett family, I am so grateful to have known your son, brother, uncle, and cousin. Thank you for raising such an important man in my life.

I love you Coach
I miss you

-Drew May
DeSmet ‘02