What We Cannot Do — and What We Witness: Thank you, Alysa Liu

If you haven't seen it already, read no more. Stop and hit play on Alysa Liu's gold medal performance at the 2026 Winter Olympics. If you have, I'd love to hear your reaction —and I'd like to share mine...

I first learned of Alysa Liu’s fabulous feat thanks to my dad. He asked if I had seen the Bay Area’s own Olympic gold medalist. I love that an 85-year-old man — a diehard Niners fan who finds a way to watch football in the preseason, regular season, and postseason — was completely taken by figure skating. He even affirmed her musical choice, noting that he has always thought Donna Summer had an incredible voice. That song underscored the performance of a lifetime. 

The first time I saw it, I had to process all that I had heard with what was unfolding on the ice. I was aware of Liu's remarkable comeback; she all but left the sport in 2022 after a sixth place finish in the Beijing Winter Olympics. Without the physical and mental demands of competitive ice skating, Liu found joy and energy, contentment and restorative laughter through time with her brother, playing video games and singing karaoke. Enrolling at UCLA, she was loving Bruin life. And then the passion was reignited.

I never feel as though I give women's' sports enough air time in Sports and Spirituality. Thankfully, the Olympic Games — both summer and winter — provide a natural opportunity to highlight the stories of extraordinary female athletes. Consequently, we celebrated the accomplishments of the women’s (and men’s) hockey team and studied the profiles of the Blade Angels. We debated whether Lindsey Vonn was inspirational or reckless and, together, explored the excitement and support that surrounded Alysa Liu’s performance.

I knew how I wanted to introduce her story. As a Bay Area native, I couldn't help but celebrate our own. Liu grew up in Richmond and went to high school in Oakland. My seniors added chapters and verse,  but my commentary stayed the same. Yes, I got a little choked up—that happens to me when I watch incredible sports moments. Yes, I said "Wow. amazing" and shook my head in disbelief. And, I concluded my remarks with one of my favorite comments. I said, "So that's an example of things I can say with complete confidence that I will never do in my lifetime." My seniors understood.

There are things we choose not to do in this lifetime. I can safely say I have chosen not to climb Mt. Everest, snort cocaine, cheer for USC, or engage certain topics in polite conversation.

But there are other things that — given the right circumstances, ability, and resources — I would love to do… and simply can’t. I will never tour with the E Street Band (welcome back, Tom Morello!), SCUBA dive in the Blue Hole, run the Boston Marathon, or play Augusta National (hope springs eternal, but I’ve done the math on that one).

Alysa Liu represents both kinds of limits — the ones we accept and the ones we transcend.

Physically, I cannot do what she does on the ice. As much as I might love to land a triple axel, it simply isn’t going to happen. And given that I can barely touch my toes, the idea of lifting my leg over my head and holding the blade with grace is downright unthinkable. It is however, simply marvelous. 

One can only marvel at her talent, energy, athleticism and even her enthusiasm. But in light of her story, it's important to know that what we saw was the fruit of a recess from the sport. We were all witnesses to an athlete who had been to the other side and came back. She skated with a joy and a freedom that spoke for itself. 

My friend Alex said it best, 

Most impressive to me is her sport is teeming with pressure. I sometimes marvel at their mental strength as much as any physical acts. Yet she wore that as confidently as her unique hairstyle. But it wasn’t youthful naivety. It was the result of walking away from the sport, dealing with her mental health, and then not returning until she was confident she had done so. THAT is the biggest thing I hope everyone, athletes and non-athletes alike, take from her. 

Some things in this life are chosen. Many are unchosen. Liu was endowed with the ability to skate on ice in a way that awakens awe. For a time, she chose not to — and we understand why. But it is hard not to give thanks — as an American, as a sports fan, and as someone who believes gifts are meant to be shared — that she returned.

Photo Credits
Jumping

Beyond the Confetti: A Different Story from Super Bowl LX—Scripture and Story (Part 2)

I packed up my Christmas decorations shortly after the Feast of the Epiphany. Last week, I folded away the last of my holiday plaids. Today, I wore my football sweater one final time. The season has come to a close. It is time to move on.

I put this away until Week 1....

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” In order to begin again, some things must end. We mark endings not to cling to them, but to honor them. We remember. We celebrate. We believe.

The Super Bowl is an important marker, a crowning moment when a new champion is named and the vision and dream set forth by so many is realized by some. This year the Seattle Seahawks emerged with the win, but the game itself is only part of what we celebrate. We remember not just the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the brilliant plays and daring drama. We recall the relationships formed, the conversations shared, and rituals we repeat week after week. I am grateful for the memories, the moments and the stories. And the purpose of this post is to share the other great "take" I got from the Athletes in Action Super Bowl Breakfast. Thank you, Condoleezza Rice.

Rice is a distinguished political scientist, diplomat, and professor who rose to serve as the 78th U.S. Secretary of State. But her life is not confined to policy and diplomacy. A dedicated golfer, accomplished pianist, and lifelong sports enthusiast, Rice has also shaped the world of athletics — serving on the College Football Playoff selection committee and becoming a part-owner of the Denver Broncos. Her career reflects a rare blend of intellect, leadership, and relatable passions.

Rice credits her father for her lifelong love of football. John Wesley Rice Jr. was a Presbyterian minister, high school guidance counselor and a football coach. She said, "in many ways, I associate football as time with my father." I recommend watching this short video, for she tells their story thoughtfully and lovingly. 

At the Athletes in Action prayer breakfast, Condi added that her  father taught her to be a student of the game. "He didn’t want me to just watch football; he wanted her to understand it—the X’s and O’s, and the "why" it." (Thanks to her, I now know what a trap block is!). But football taught John Wesley Rice Jr.’s only child something else: it taught her how to tell time.

In Condoleezza Rice: A Memoir of My Extraordinary, Ordinary Family and Me, she writes 

I was staying with my Grandmother during the day and my father would tell my Grandmother I will pick Condoleezza up at two o'clock.

I would become so excited at the prospect of going to a game that I would pester her all day about the time. “When is it going to be two o’clock?” I would ask over and over. My exasperated grandmother finally showed me a clock and the position of the hands at two o’clock so that I could track the time myself. I guess I can thank football for helping me learn how to tell time.

I found that story to reveal a much deeper truth. Yes, at a very young age, Condoleezza Rice learned chronological time. The clock pointed to a distinct number. She learned to read the hands and to measure the minutes. But that’s not why the story matters.

What makes it meaningful is that it points us to something more than mechanics. In that moment—and in so many others—we don’t use time simply to measure hours. We use it to mark connection. We say, “I’ll meet you at six.” We count down to birthdays, games, graduations. Time becomes the container that holds relationship.

A great memory. Condoleezza Rice spoke at school. She is the Godmother of former students.

But time also tells us when something is meant to begin and when it must end. A gathering winds down. A meeting adjourns. The final whistle blows. A trip concludes. A season gives way to another. We learn to tell time not just by reading a clock, but by recognizing rhythm and the relationships the characterize it.

Though this was not part of her larger lesson, I came to understand that how we learn to tell time matters. At first, we trace the numbers and memorize the hands. Later, we come to understand its deeper lesson: that time is both gift and limit. It teaches us presence because it is fleeting. It teaches us gratitude because it cannot be reclaimed. And if we are paying attention, it teaches us love—because the most important moments in our lives are not measured in minutes, but those with whom spend it.

Thank you, Condoleezza Rice for this lovely lesson.

Photo Credits

Beyond the Confetti: A Different Story from Super Bowl LX—Scripture and Story (Part 1)

Although the NFL would prefer that I think about professional football 365 days a year, Good Morning Football didn’t capture my attention today the way it has for the past six months. The green and blue confetti has fallen. The yellow Gatorade bath has been poured. The Philadelphia Eagles have surrendered their title as Super Bowl champions to the Seattle Seahawks.

I’ve heard all the analysis — the questions about the Patriots’ offensive line, the praise for Seattle’s so-called “dark side” defense. But beyond the commentary and confetti, I’m left with two takeaways from Super Bowl LX that I'd like to share: one Scripture passage and one story.

My longtime friend and former colleague Kevin and I have attended hundreds — yes, hundreds — of sporting events together. Whenever the San Francisco Giants made the postseason, we found our way to at least one NLDS and one NLCS game. We used to joke that if the orange and black ever made it to the World Series, we’d rob a bank — whatever it took to get there.

Well, the Giants made it and won—three times in five years (2010, 2012, 2014). However, no banks were robbed. No World Series tickets were purchased. For all our bravado, neither of us made it to a single game of the Fall Classic.

I share this because when Super Bowl LX landed practically in our backyard, we toyed with the idea again. This time, the math was even more sobering — a bank robbery wouldn't cover the ticket price at Levi’s. Kevin declared he would only go if the Packers won the NFC. Since attending a Super Bowl has long been on my bucket list, I agreed to the terms. Of course I would love to see the Niners play, but I convinced myself the experience alone would be worth it. You can guess how this story ends... 

I’m here to say that Kevin came up with a wonderful alternative: the Athletes in Action Super Bowl Breakfast.

Athletes in Action (AIA) is a "Christian sports ministry that works with athletes, coaches, and teams to explore the connection between faith, character, and competition." Each year, during Super Bowl weekend, AIA hosts this gathering of nearly 1500 people for the purpose of imparting one of the NFL’s most meaningful honors: the Bart Starr Award.

The Bart Starr Award is presented annually to the NFL player who best exemplifies outstanding character, leadership on and off the field, integrity, and a deep commitment to family, teammates, and community. Unlike awards based purely on performance statistics, this honor recognizes the athlete both on and off the field. The 2026 recipient was none other than San Francisco running back, Christian McCaffrey.

McCaffrey's message was framed by two passages of scripture: Psalm 23 and Exodus 14:14. He spoke from the heart of how God's word had sustained him through disappointment, injury, doubt and dismay.

A graduate of Valor Christian in Denver, I had to wonder if his high school education familiarized him with the Bible in a way that I have not. I was unfamiliar with Exodus 14:14 but it spoke to me. It stayed with me. I wanted to share it with my own students, so I showed the video. I modeled how my students might pray with the Word and integrate its import into their own lives.

McCaffrey, a devout Catholic, was given the Bart Starr Award not simply for his excellence on the field, but for the consistency of his character, his servant leadership, and the way he lives his faith publicly and privately. In a week often defined by spectacle and commercialism, the breakfast offered a different kind of spotlight — one that celebrates  the deeper story of who an athlete is beyond the game. In CMC's case, that is a man who is very grateful, faith filled and devoted to Christ. 

The 49ers team owner, Jed York opened the 8:00 a.m. breakfast with humor, telling us he was willing to spend a lot amount of money to reconfigure the event into a lunch. After the laughter settled and the coffee kicked in, he shifted the tone and kept us leaning in.

York spoke about his 10-year-old son, who looks up to #23 in every possible way. There was unmistakable pride in his voice — not simply because one of his franchise players is talented, but because he is so much more than a player his son admires. He is a great teammate, a devoted son and brother, a loving husband and father. And as the breakfast revealed, he is a man of faith who strives to live by the Word.

For a young person searching for heroes, that kind of example matters.

The next post will feature the story...

The Return of Faith Fondue and Lessons in Caring for Oneself

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer in December, overnight I became much more than her daughter. I stepped into the role of primary caregiver — the CEO of a very important operation. In these months, I have received countless heartfelt messages of love and support for my mom, my family, and me. And almost always, they come with the same gentle reminder from those who have walked this road before: take care of yourself. I’m here to say that I found one way to head that advice: the return of a podcast I co-host. Welcome back, Faith Fondue.

Thanks to this special weekend on campus, Haley and I reignited the flame and our podcast is back.

Haley Scott DeMaria and I launched Faith Fondue in 2019. Although we completed 24 episodes in 2024, somehow 2025 got away from us. However, we recorded our first episode of Season Five this past weekend—We are back! 

Our format will remain the same—we begin with The flame—What's Hot, followed by our Spiritual Stew—Reflections on the Gospel and concluding with The Melting Pot—our take-aways. However, we have an added twist. This season, we’ll dip a shared read, movie, or podcast into the melting pot — and let the conversation simmer. I'm excited to discover how the Spirit stirs through our shared stories.

But how does creating a podcast amount to caring for oneself? Certainly, a podcast requires preparation, time, and effort. The answer came to me only through the process of asking a deeper question: What does it mean to take care of oneself?  I understand the sentiment, but I haven’t always been sure how to live it out.

I've consulted people who have walked similar paths. Sadly, I haven't had to look too far or too hard—this is a journey that too many others have taken. But they have hard earned wisdom and I hope this blog will serve as another source for others in the future.

Rest: A dear friend and classmate told me, "I think rest is super important…especially as the caregiver is challenged with life 'going on as usual' when nothing is really as it was. You get to carry both. 🤷🏼‍♀️ You may find that the things that relaxed you before, don’t fit the bill. Make time to rest."

Because of her answer, I was able to hit pause on working late at night. I turn out the lights a little earlier than usual. These words gave me permission to slow things down. There is rest for the weary.

Exercise: I am a person who plans where and when I will exercise. I seldom if ever let more than a day go by without some form of physical activity. To me, exercise is a sure fire way to maintain not only my physical health, but my mental health too. Therefore, it should be prioritized as a way to take care of oneself. 

I stopped playing golf. I could care less about my step count; my walks became sporadic. I told a friend that I lost the edge—the edge that gets me out of bed in the morning to join the workout crew on the sixth floor of my gym at 0600. When I finally made it back, another friend admitted that there were times in his life when things spun out of control. Amidst the chaos he noted "don't let this go. Commit to some form of exercise. It's just too important." I know he's right.

Prayer: During this challenging and scary time I have leaned into prayer in a number of ways. I have found comfort in morning mass. I have gotten to know Saint Peregrine, the patron saint of those with cancer and continue to ask for his intercession for my mom and countless others.

I’ll admit there are moments when it feels as though God is answering everyone else’s prayers and not my own. And yet, I’ve found deep comfort in knowing that others are praying the same words I am. Somehow, that shared prayer eases the burden. It reminds me that I don’t have to pray more, pray harder, or pray in any particular prayer. God loves us. God knows. us. Those are two good reasons to pray: we grow in our love of God and in our knowledge of God—not the other way around.

Creativity: No one has told me to make time to be creative or find that creative outlet but for me, the creative process has always been a way for me to take care of myself. How? Why?

For one, I believe creativity keeps us alive on the inside, not just functional on the outside. It amazes me how creativity allows for what’s stirring beneath the surface to come into the open, where it can be seen, shared, and healed. Furthermore, creativity relieves pressure. In order for me to be creative, I must pause, pay attention and listen. That shift—from control to curiosity—can be deeply restorative, especially in a time like this when answers don’t come easily.

And as a spiritual practice, creativity makes us co-creators. All comes from God. All is gift. Creating something—writing, praying, making, imagining—becomes a form of participation rather than performance. I don’t have to get it “right.” I just have to show up. And that's exactly what I get to do in front of my laptop with Haley as we create Faith Fondue. I'm so grateful we're back. I told Haley it's one of the few things I have been truly excited about in 2026. She believes reaching out to me was the work of the Holy Spirit. That flame is pretty powerful.

So give it a listen. Take care of yourself. One way might be to give us a listen! And after the second episode, you can take care of yourself by reading "Pray Like a Champion Today" by Father Nate Wills, C.S.C. and beyond....by praying like one, too.

Photo Credits
Cheer her name
Saint Peregrine

On the Other Side of Tired: A Book’s Return and a Life Revisited Thank you, Andre Agassi!

I love to ask questions about books. What is your favorite? Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction? Do you have a favorite writer? Are you partial to a "real" book or Kindle? Do you use the library or shop Amazon? And do you re-read certain books? Why or why not?

One of my favorite books—and probably my favorite sports read—is a work of nonfiction; it is Open by American tennis player Andre Agassi. His autobiography captivated my attention and imagination because, at one point in my life, I was madly in love with tennis. I was both a player and a fan. Reading his stories and recalling those memories transported me back to an era I followed closely. I knew the players, the rivalries, the highs and lows, the victories and defeats—both on and off the court. Agassi’s chronicle left me with only one reaction: What a life!

I bought my copy of Open shortly after it was published in 2009. My dear friend Bill and I went to hear Agassi speak about the book in Palo Alto on a Friday right after school. Bill and I both taught in the Religious Studies department. He coached boys’ and girls’ tennis, and at that time I was coaching cross country. Part of what makes my friendship with Bill so special is his sheer passion for tennis and his remarkable knowledge of the game. Time and again I sought his technical analysis, recall of specific points, and insight into the mental challenges of the sport. The only complication was that I had to be sure he already knew the outcome of a match before bringing it up. Why? He watched many of them on tape delay. Teaching and coaching keeps you busy.

with Bill at Indian Wells Center Court, 2009

To hear Agassi speak with that same depth—only magnified by lived experience—was unforgettable. He brought the pages of Open to life, blending candor, humor, and vulnerability in a way that made the afternoon feel both intimate and electric. It remains one of those shared moments that, even years later, still spark gratitude and a smile. We reminisce about this experience often (I am so bummed we did not take a picture with Agassi!!!)

I integrated Open into my curriculum as much as I could. However, Agassi retired in 2006. In spite of his eight grand slam titles and former number one ranking, his star power had naturally faded. Still, I found an ideal audience for his lessons and insights in a group of parents who enrolled in an evening section of Sports and Spirituality. One mom was so eager to read more that she asked to borrow my copy. I loved the book so much that I was happy to pass it along to anyone willing to listen and learn.

At Wimbledon 2022

The class ended. Her son graduated. I moved to another school. And somewhere in all that transition, the book was lost in the shuffle.

I asked a colleague to follow up with the parent about getting my book back. It never happened. I eventually purchased another copy, but it wasn’t the same. My original had been signed. It featured a nameplate. It carried my tabs, highlights, and handwritten notes. I had done more than simply read that book—I lived with it. I uncovered analogies about life and love. I challenged the author's claims and marveled at his experiences. I made connections to spiritual truths and found meaning in the memories. That exact copy was a witness to those treasures. 

From time to time, I would think of my book and get upset. I have been told that if you lend something to someone, you should not expect to get it back. Seems like a lousy proposition to me, but I understand the guardrails and their purpose. I had no other choice but to let it go.

In the passing years, I have not re-read this book. However, I think this is a worthy proposition. Why? It's not that the book changes but we do. Life happens. We have new experiences—chosen and unchosen, welcome and unwelcome, gifted and graced as well as tragic and solemn. I think even a book like Open could speak to life—and my life—in new ways.

Last week, I returned from lunch to find a bag on my desk. Inside was the very copy of Open that I lent out six years prior. Inside the book was a very thoughtful note that said 

My sincere apologies for not returning your book in a timely manner. Clearly this is a beloved book given all the tabs and notes. I found it recently so I am sending my son to ensure this amazing book is reunited with its owner. Happy New Year!

I couldn't help but wonder what the universe might be telling me. I decided to take a look at what spoke to me in the past. The first passage I highlighted made me smile. Agassi writes

It's no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of every day existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it's all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It's our choice.

The theologian Ron Rolheiser believes that "God speaks to every element in the language it can understand." It wasn't my first language, but I speak the language of tennis proficiently. No accent. Somewhere in that love affair, God was speaking to me. 

I revisited my tabs and margin notes and found myself asking: why read fiction when real life can be this compelling? The climb back to world No. 1. His father betting on him as a boy against Jim Brown. A detour to Springsteen’s Reunion Tour in Paris during the French Open. Meeting Nelson Mandela with Brooke Shields. Falling in love with Steffi Graf—his wife and the mother of his two children. Those stories are still compelling...and incredible. I had to wonder how and why some stories come to us. And I questioned, what could I do to make others happen. Is that even possible?

That view of Open is too short-sighted. Agassi spent three years writing the book, and at the launch event he emphasized that he had to tell this story. It wasn’t surprising to hear that he wanted to make sense of his own life, but I was struck by his insistence on telling the truth behind what fans thought they knew. He admits, for example, that he hated tennis. Through writing Open, he came to terms with his father, his failures, his divorce, his injuries, and ultimately his identity beyond winning. He sought to offer hope through honesty — and even the cover image quietly proclaims that message.

Just love this photo. An iconic look at that era...

So why here? Why now? What was the universe trying to tell me about my very own copy of Open finding its way back to me. Next to this classic photo is a quote that I highlighted. It says 

I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

It's safe to say in the 16 years since I have read Open, yes, I have changed. But in under two months time, my entire world has been turned upside down as my mom has battling Stage 3 ovarian cancer. This terrible disease came on so incredibly fast and my mom, my family and I are all dealing with its demands, her frailty and struggles. She is tired of being sick. I don't know that I have ever felt this tired either. This journey isn't a short one, nor is it an easy one. I don't go at it alone but I take comfort in what this message offers for me, even if just for today. I need to read it...or this case, re-read it.

And for the record, I love Kindle. That being said, a story like this would never happen through that platform now would it....

Photo Credits
Andre and Gil is from OPEN