Merry Christmas week everyone. Yes, we are still very much celebrating Christmas here in spite of Kyle's passing. Our tree is up. Our lights are hung. And there are plenty of presents for Leah to open on Christmas morning. We have to celebrate Christmas because it's what Leah expects. A 7-year-old can't possibly grasp the enormity our grief yet, so we have to continue to make her life feel as normal as possible.
I don't really have a particular Kyle Christmas story to share that registers as significant. There was the time Kyle ran to Santa at the mall when he was 1-1/2, but that was Kyle...never met a stranger and certainly wasn't intimidated by one. Or the time he came downstairs around 11PM on Christmas Eve and I had to try and hide the Mickey Mouse Go Kart I was building him. Or the Christmas Eve we let him and Leah sleepover in Leah's room, and they woke up for Santa at 3:30AM... that was fun.
Kyle stopped believing in Santa last year. He and Leah were getting Santa pictures and someone in line spoiled the surprise for him. He took it in stride and promised not to ruin the magic for his sister. He was really excited to help continue the Santa tradition for Leah this year.
This week my thoughts about Kyle have revolved around the College Football Playoff and the Tennessee Volunteers. Kyle loved Tennessee sports more than anyone. He obsessed over highlights, stats and players like no one I've ever met. He wore something Tennessee related every day and would live and die with every pitch, snap and bucket.
Saturday night Tennessee played in the inaugural College Football Playoff against Ohio State, and it did not fare well for Kyle's beloved Vols. Tennessee was outclassed on the way to a 42-17 rout that most I know turned off in the 3rd quarter (me included). Life is too short to ruin your evening over a football game. Tennessee had a great season but isn't on the level of a program like Ohio State (yet). But Kyle's love for the Vols was unmatched. It was also unavoidable.
Erica was born in February 1983 to in Knoxville. Her family, particularly her father and maternal grandfather, were / are diehard Tennessee fans. Erica's grandfather, Herman, was such a huge Vols fan his master bedroom was painted orange. And in his later years, he became a local folk hero for his Friday morning calls into in 99.1 FM, the local Knoxville sports talk radio station. Erica only applied to Tennessee, was accepted and graduated with her business degree in the Spring of 2005. She scheduled our wedding date around a Tennessee football bye week so none of our family and friends would miss watching Tennessee play.
My route to Vol fandom was more circuitous. I grew up in Cincinnati, 90 minutes from Ohio State and paid little attention to southern college football culture. However, one summer during a trip to Gatlinburg I asked my mom to drive me past Neyland Stadium and the University of Tennessee campus. Once next to Neyland I was floored by the sheer size and scope of the stadium. And with a gate open I let myself in to take a look at something so enormous. Once inside a facility worker came up and welcomed me with one rule, "Please don't go on the field". Even at the age of 15 I found myself intrigued with the idea of what could be so important that 100,000 people gather 6 times a year to show their support for a game. What causes this stadium to turn into a Baptist Tent Revival on bourbon?
In the Fall of 1998 Tennessee was playing Florida in Neyland Stadium. A last second missed field goal by Florida gave Tennessee a win over their hated rival and springboarded them to a national championship the following January. I was 16 years old at the time and watched in my living room cheering for a team and a school I had no affiliation to. What force was drawing me into cheering a school two states away, in a conference I had never heard of, in a sport that never really interested me (Cincinnati is a college basketball town, for the record)? Two years later I attended my first Tennessee football game as a student and graduated in 2005 with a degree in Communications.
Kyle's first Tennessee game in Neyland came in the Fall of 2013. We played Kentucky and won by a sizeable margin, because we always beat Kentucky...at everything. The highlight of the day however, was when two men bumped into each outside the concession line and one guy dropped his French fries. It's all Kyle would talk about for roughly 9 months was this guy's French fries. Not the game, the marching band, the fanfare, but a $6 order of fried potatoes and ketchup.
But as Kyle grew his attention turned to the field and other Tennessee sports. I mentioned this extensively during Kyle's eulogy, but Kyle and I both became obsessed with Tennessee baseball. I purchased season tickets in the Fall of '21 and he and I attended so many wonderful and entertaining games together at Lindsey Nelson Stadium. He'd come home from school on a Tuesday, do a little homework, then we'd leave our house at 5:30 for a 6:05 first pitch. We'd watch them beat up on some directional school and leave around the 7th, home by 8:30 and him in bed by 9, 9:15. But it wasn't just the directional schools they were beating. They were beating up on some of the giants of college baseball: Arkansas, Florida and my favorite team to beat in baseball - Vanderbilt. Then in 2024, after knocking on the door a few times previously, Tennessee won 60 games enroute to their first ever national championship in baseball. I have a video of the final pitch that Erica recorded. We had a house full of friends, but when the final strike was called, I threw up my arms and immediately grabbed Kyle. This is the difference between professional and collegiate sports - collegiate sports are personal. I don't know anyone personally on the baseball team, but we are bonded by a love of the University of Tennessee. It's a family.
The very next evening we, and 40,000 fellow fans, attended the championship parade in downtown Knoxville. It was hot and muggy and fun. Below is a pic of Kyle and Leah just a few feet from the baseball team and evenings emcee, John Wilkerson.
Kyle loved to play, watch and study baseball. He was not the fastest kid but was such a smart baserunner. He also had an amazing eye at the plate. His final at bat came during a tournament this past October against really stiff competition in Pigeon Forge, TN. He worked a 3-2 count against a left-handed side arm pitcher throwing between 65-70 MPH. At one point he fouled off 4 or 5 straight pitches and just battled. He ended up earning the walk. I don't think I've enjoyed watching him bat any more than I did then. It was a masterclass in hitting from a 12-year-old.
Kyle had a lot of dreams. He wanted to play baseball then go into sports broadcasting. He used to go outside and play by himself and do commentary for each "play". When he showered at night you could hear him doing play by play from his bathroom. Anyone with a teenage son wonders what nefarious acts they get into during long showers, right? We never wondered. Kyle was upstairs impersonating Kevn Harlan.
When the funeral home asked for things for him to wear during his viewing it was never a question. Kyle would wear basketball shorts and his orange Tennessee #1 football jersey. Today we wear orange bracelets and sweaters in his memory and his remains are in an orange urn in our living room. He was right there with me Saturday night as I watched Ohio State throttle Tennessee. And I can hear him in a half declarative statement / half question saying, "Dad, we're just not very good, are we?"
A week ago Saturday, Tennessee's men's basketball team, ranked #1 in the country, went on the road to play Illinois is a tough out of conference matchup. Tennessee battled the entire second half with their two best players in foul trouble. But off the bench came #11, Justin Gainey. Gainey is a good player - a streaky shooter and hardnosed defender - Gainey is also the son of Tennessee assistant coach, Justin Gainey. With seconds left on the clock Gainey drove the length of the floor and hit a running layup as time expired giving Tennessee the win.
I know another #11 that played hoops. I know a former #11 that played basketball for his dad, was a hot shooter and played with passion. And I couldn't help noticing the sign Kyle sent us, it was unmistakable. Once Gainey got the ball, I knew it was over. I knew he would score. I knew it because it had to happen.
I've convinced myself that ball went in because Kyle made it happen. Never mind the coaches and players that dedicate themselves to their craft and put themselves in position to be successful. Driven not by money, but by the desire to compete and excel at something they love so dearly.
I had a religious figure tell me back in high school that you can’t pray to win. God doesn’t help teams win. You pray to compete and come out of the competition safe and healthy. After games you see teams gather in a prayer circle to do just that: thank God for health and safety in the field of play.
In reality, was it Kyle that tipped in the ball? Probably not. But I didn’t clasp my hands during that final play to pray for a win. I clasped my hands in hopes of a glimpse of my son. And I believe I got it. I got through a young man playing a game he loved, executing to the best of his abilities. And like the person I prayed to, he’ll always be remembered as the hot shooter clad in big orange!
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah.
🧡🧡🧡
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