In my life I’ve been hit by Tamba Hali, handed off to Kevin Jones and thrown passes to Larry Fitzgerald, but it’s a Mr. Lasapio that reminds me of how special sports can be.

In a school of 2,000 people he knew my name, and eventually grew to care about me beyond his paycheck. My high school principal Sebastian Lasapio passed away Monday at the age of 64, putting me into a strange state of consciousness.

When you deal with loss, you sadly learn there is no perfect way to get around the empty feeling that inevitably comes with it. Two people that I spoke with, both respected greatly by me, advised polar opposites. My friend JD recommended that I find a release and get my mind off of the loss, while my friend Darren told me there is no shame in just feeling sad. For me, I felt the best way was to find a happy median.

I would get my mind off the loss and allow myself to mourn by finding a memory and holding on to that.

Before every football game, Mr. Lasapio would attend the cheerleading breakfast held for the players, and somewhere between the carbohydrates and the fatty acids, he would find time to come and talk to me about the game.

Although he wasn’t your typical John Madden he enjoyed talking with me about the upcoming game, and I in turn looked forward to the conversation.

When I was first thrown into a game I was 150 pounds of nervous sophomore. I was thrown behind a center who doubled my size, reading defenses that were littered with Division-I starters and I couldn’t mess up. I cared more about the seniors I could possibly let down, I cared about not being prepared, I wondered whether I was good enough.

Mr. Lasapio could recognize the anxiety dripping down from my shaking hands which were trying to grip bacon; he anticipated a 15-year-old would have such worries.

Kindly he approached me and introduced himself, he said he was Mr. Lasapio and was the only one who wouldn’t come over and remind me of the pressure. He probably didn’t know a screen from a draw, but he knew people and I was one in need.

That was the memory I held onto, without playing sports I never would have had the opportunity to meet such a great person.

We lost that first game and my nature was to put the loss on my shoulders, 150 pounds was supporting the weight of West Orange High School and it wasn’t working well.

I stayed in the locker room for some time and then sat outside the school waiting for my ride. Mr. Lasapio came out to congratulate me on the game, but quickly realized the type of person he was dealing with. Changing his tactics he plainly asked, have you even entered puberty? He shook my hand and went inside.

He couldn’t tell me if I was rushing out of the pocket, instead he kept me up just long enough to succeed.

After a series of wins to close out the season I said my goodbyes to the seniors who huddled in the end zone for the last time. I walked off alone and was greeted by my mom, proud as can be. Together we walked down towards the locker room and were greeted by Mr. Lasapio. He congratulated me on the game and told my mom to be wary of girls with bad intentions, haha. I couldn’t name the plays we ran or accurately recite back my stats, what stayed with me was the impact and words of a great man.

Thank you sports, thank you Sebastian Lasapio, and thank you to the memories and people that make life worth while.

Ian Gold is a senior in Communications. He can be reached at [email protected].