Remembering and Celebrating, Sister Kathy Lang, CSJ and Her Crown Jewel

On April 18, 2026, I returned to my alma mater for the Celebration of Life of Sister Kathy Lang, CSJ. A Sister of Saint Joseph of Carondelet for 70 years, she served 26 of those years as principal and as the first president of Carondelet High School in Concord, California. It was a gift to gather for Mass, a shared meal, and a storytelling session honoring such an extraordinary leader. I sat with classmates, former teachers, alumnae, and parents representing five different decades.

As I reflected on Sister Kathy’s life and legacy, two words stayed with me—words that captured what she believed Carondelet to be and what we, as alumnae, were made to feel: crown and jewel. Let me explain...

When my friends and classmates got word of Sister Kathy's passing on January 25, 2026, we shared a slew of text messages —each one echoing the same sense of loss, gratitude, and appreciation for her many gifts. More importantly, the messages were consistent. "She was a caring and strong presence" and "She set a great example as a female leader." One friend wrote, "It's impressive how she knew something about every student and knew them by name." Sister Kathy's qualities then and now were never taken for granted. Her memory is indeed a blessing.

My memories of Sister Kathy are many—and blessed. She had the most piercing, beautiful blue eyes. She listened with them and was ever present on campus. She also had a lovely speaking voice, and I give her great credit for never raising it—even when she needed to. Perhaps that was her superpower: when things got heated, Sister Kathy remained calm. Temperatures might rise, but her voice stayed low. I graduated in 1992, long before chemical peels or Hydrafacials were commonplace. Otherwise, you might have thought she indulged—her skin was that radiant. She smiled often. But Sister Kathy was firm and she also kept a professional distance. She was not one to be fooled. 

Her obituary states that "Being a San Franciscan was an important piece of her identity." In her poignant eulogy tribute, former CHS teacher, Elizabeth Clemente-House recalled how much Sister Kathy loved to tell people she was from "The City." She was a proud graduate of St. Cecilia's and Star of the Sea Academy.

I have always held onto that detail because my mom is no different. A San Francisco native, she, too, attended “Star”—a connection they both recognized in one another. There was an unspoken understanding between them, rooted in a shared formation in the same sacred place. Both my mom and Sister Kathy carried a deep love for Stella Maris.

I have no doubt this is a key reason my mom enjoyed her tenure as the Parent's Guild president. In that role she worked with Sister Kathy and my mom was the one to tell me then and in the years since how much Sister Kathy loved Carondelet. "Anne, she believes it is the crown jewel of all their schools." I never forgot those words. 

Toward the end of  my senior year, my parents invited Sister Kathy and her great friend, Sister Eleanor to our home for dinner. My Dad, whom Sister E always called "Stan the Man," attended public school and was not as familiar with religious sisters. I know at the conclusion of that evening he was a little surprised by these deeply progressive female leaders. Meanwhile, my mom loved every minute of it.

Sister Kathy and Sister Eleanor who never wore the habit made a habit of walking after school. Together, they would get outside, exercise and converse with others in the community. Thinking about that now, I am certain it was part of their ministry. They met others where they were. It sounds a whole lot like Pope Francis' Theology of Encounter to me. I'd like to think Sister Eleanor and Sister Kathy walked with God—and God with them. 

The Celebration of Life for Sister Kathy made me aware of her great gift for fundraising. On some level, I wasn't surprised to hear that confirmation. Today, Carondelet—ever a beautiful campus—has new and outstanding facilities. But as someone whose athletic interests were given great opportunity at CHS, I see the as the Carondelet Athletics Complex crown jewel of her fundraising efforts. 

It is a six-acre, modern sports facility located in nearby Walnut Creek that serves as the primary home for many of the school’s outdoor athletic programs. It was developed to give Carondelet student-athletes a true “home field,” replacing decades of off-site practices and competitions.

Acquired in 2015, Carondelet was forward thinking in securing this place and space. Though she was retired, this sports gem would have never been possible without Sister Kathy's vision, foundation and prior success in fundraising.

I have taught at St. Ignatius College Preparatory in “The City” for 20 years now. When I interviewed for the position, the school’s president, Father Tony Sauer, SJ, asked where I had gone to high school. When I told him “Carondelet,” he smiled.“Ah.Then you know Sister Kathy Lang.”

“She was my principal,” I replied.

He laughed, then added, “I took her to a dance her first year of college. She left for the convent after that. My loss was the Sisters’ gain.”

I’ve never forgotten that story. Both Sister Kathy and Father Tony gave their lives in service to countless young men and women in Catholic education. They both had great social capital, power and poise. Still, there is a distinction in their styles that I’ve come to appreciate.

So many graduates of S.I. speak of it as the crown jewel of Bay Area schools—I know Tony felt that way. I’m genuinely glad they do, and I’m often amused by how eager they are to make sure others know it. People frequently ask if I went to St. Ignatius as well.

I never have to hesitate. I didn’t—and I’ve never felt badly about that. Why? Because I went to Carondelet High School. Under Sister Kathy’s leadership, and guided by her conviction, I came to understand that I was already part of something extraordinary. Like her, it wasn’t flashy or bold. It was a quiet confidence.

I have also always felt connected to De La Salle High School, even when others don’t fully understand the relationship between the two schools. Sister Kathy’s leadership extended beyond 800 young women; she collaborated with the Christian Brothers and helped shape a shared vision that included nearly 900 young men as well. Two jewels for the price of one. Lucky Cougars, lucky Spartans.

I remain deeply proud that my diploma, my yearbooks, and my experience all trace back to 1133 Winton Drive. Thank you, Sister Kathy for your commitment to Carondelet. The love and vision you shared as principal and president lives on. It shines so brightly.

Photo Credits
Principals
purple
Memorial Service

From "You Suck" to "Thank You"—How We Fans Show Signs of Respect

There’s a telling line in the documentary Nine Innings from Ground Zero. Curt Schilling, reflecting on pitching in Yankee Stadium during the 2001 World Series, said: “If they boo you as a visiting player, that just means you don’t suck.”

In other words, to be jeered by New York fans is, in its own way, a sign of respect. You matter. You’re dangerous. You’re worth the noise.

Sometimes we show respect in strange ways. And two recent events in baseball have given me pause to think a little more about how we show respect and why it matters. 

In Major League Baseball, April 15 is Jackie Robinson Day. It's not just tax day, it's a day to honor Robinson's 1947 debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers. 4/15 is a day when MLB's color barrier was broken. However, it's worth noting that Robinson's career was not always marked by signs of respect. He endured hostility in the form of racist remarks, derogatory slurs and taunting. The abuse he endured was, tragically, a backhanded acknowledgment of his impact. He is an American hero—a man that children still learn about and study in school and beyond. 

Baseball—the American pastime—has made meaningful efforts to reckon with its past. For example, statistics from the Negro Leagues are now officially included in the Major League Baseball historical record and recognized by the Baseball Hall of Fame. On Jackie Robinson Day, all players, coaches, and on-field staff wear Robinson’s number, 42—the only number permanently retired across MLB. The result is a powerful, league-wide visual tribute in every stadium at once. Optics matter. At the ballpark, fans watch video tributes and hear stories that highlight Robinson’s impact and enduring example. These efforts help ensure that Jackie Robinson Day is not just commemorated, but truly honored. To me, respect never goes out of style.

But what got me thinking about respect was a comment from one of my seniors. His “Sports in the News” presentation featured the Tigers’ closer, Kenley Jansen, who recorded his 479th career save on April 14. Jonah walked into class and said, “I should have featured Jackie Robinson on Jackie Robinson Day.” I assured him it wasn’t a problem; I had created a slide honoring Rachel Robinson, Jackie’s wife, who is 103 years old.

Then I added, “And for what it’s worth, I hate Kenley Jansen.”

My student looked at me quizzically.

“He played for the Dodgers, right? Put a whole lot of hurt on the Giants.”

He smiled.

“My hatred,” I added, “is a sign of respect.”

He understood.

Congratulations are certainly in order for Jansen—he is now number three on the all-time save list, behind Mariano Rivera (the last #42 in MLB)  and Trevor Hoffman. But this Giants fan can't forget who benefitted from this milestone: those pesky Dodgers! Hey! loyalty and fandom don’t go out of style either.

Regular readers of this blog know that an important part of my summer is my annual pilgrimage to South Lake Tahoe for the American Century Championship golf tournament. It features athletes, actors, news anchors, and musicians—perhaps they should add a “C” for “celebrity” to their official billing.

One time, I was sitting beside a green when former Phillie and National outfielder Jayson Werth walked by. We made eye contact.

“I hated you when you were with the Phillies,” I told him.

“You a Mets fan?” he asked.

“No—I’m a Giants fan. You always put the hurt on.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate the hatred.”

We both laughed. The respect was obvious.

Respect doesn’t always arrive as celebration. Sometimes it comes as resistance, as noise, even as rejection. But underneath it is recognition.

And maybe the question worth asking is this: Are we paying attention to the ways respect shows up—even when it doesn’t look the way we expect?

Photo Credits
Jansen
42
Boo

Jo Adell: Living in the Fifth Dimension of Sport

After reading "Rowing for the Lives" (America Magazine) and "How the Sports Stadium Went Luxe" (The New Yorker) my seniors in Sports and Spirituality my seniors in Sports and Spirituality were asked to answer the question: What are sports for? Is sport a pathway to meaning or a product to sell?

Upon reading these, they made convincing arguments on both sides. Some argued that athletics exist for the formation of character and the creation of opportunity for all. Others leaned toward a more public reality: today, sports are a business, and games are primarily a form of entertainment.

Both claims hold weight. But I wonder if they are incomplete. Because every so often, something happens in sport that doesn’t quite fit either category. It’s not reducible to character formation, and it’s not captured fully by entertainment value. It interrupts the game. It lingers. It feels—if only for a moment, like something more.

Angels outfielder Jo Adell added that kind of variable to our conversation—and it’s not just what he did, but how he did it.

According to Yahoo! sports, Adell "etched his name in the history books on Saturday night in Anaheim, robbing three home runs in a 1-0 win over the Mariners" 

This one man had three robberies. Check them out. for yourself: 

1. Top of the first, off the bat of Cal Raleigh.
2. Top of the eighth, off the bat of Josh Naylor.
3. Top of the ninth, off the bat of J.P. Crawford.

Kendall Baker writes,

There have been over 70,000 MLB games played in the wild card era (since 1995), and this was the first to feature three total home run robberies, much less three by the same player.  

While the first two robberies were spectacular in their own right, the third is the one everybody's talking about because this is where Adell ended up after making the grab… 

Adell's ninth-inning leap into the right field corner took him all the way over the fence into the stands. The Mariners challenged to see if it might still count as a home run, but the call was confirmed because he made the catch before falling out of play. That's in accordance with MLB's rules (page 148), but should it be? If you fail to keep the ball from going over the fence, did you really rob the home run? What do you think?"

What do I think? His spectacular defense is not simply about character formation, the cultivation of virtue, or creating community. Yes, Adell jerseys may increase and the Angels’ social media is lighting up—but something more is happening here. This moment resists our categories. It is more than an either/or proposition, and even more than a both/and.

Perhaps it is akin to the “fifth dimension” described in A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle.

In the novel, a tesseract allows a person to move from one place to another not by traveling the distance in between, but by folding space itself. What seems far apart suddenly touches. The impossible becomes immediate. But here’s the deeper truth: the characters cannot access this kind of movement through knowledge or power alone—it is love that makes the journey possible.

Adell’s performance feels something like that. In three separate moments, he collapses what should have been inevitable into something altogether different. He bends expectation. He interrupts outcome. He brings together what should not meet: the certainty of the ball leaving the park and the sudden, almost disorienting reality of an out recorded.

For a moment, the game is no longer just business or formation. It becomes something that pulls us out of the ordinary experience of sport and reminds us why we watch in the first place. Not just to be entertained, and not only to be formed, but to witness moments that feel, however briefly, like they transcend the limits of the game itself. And, it's so good, it's something I have to share. I told my Dad to watch it on YouTube. I texted it to my friend Anthony. I said to my friends Bob and Mike—long time Angels fans, "I hope one of you will wear an Adell jersey soon." Connection.

The San Francisco Giants hosted MLB's Opening Night on Wednesday March 25. Opening Day was two days later on Friday, March 27 (yes dividing them up is a shrewd business opportunity).For those students not at the ballpark, I shared this picture. 

St. Louis Cardinals player Nathan Church makes a spectacular leaping catch at the
wall to rob a home run during a game at Busch Stadium on March 26, 2026. 

I said how excited I was for a new season of baseball because it always brings promise and possibility. I told them that last year, I saw one of the greatest catches of all time. I hit play and shared Denzel' Clarke's amazing feat. I reminded them of the language of baseball. I said that's one incredible "web gem." And then I asked the question "What will this season bring?"

I wasn't sure what we saw last year could be outdone. Just when we think inspiration or amazement is in short supply, I'm proven wrong. This is what it means to live in the Fifth Dimension. This is what we love baseball, and basketball, a golf, and music and so much more.
A whole lot in this life is scripted, but Jo Adell reminded me—convincingly—that it's not nor should it be.

Photo Credits
Jo Adell
STL

No Secret Handshake, Just a Headset—Thoughts on the NFL Head Coaches Group Photo

Membership has its privileges—but none of these men carry a common card. There’s no secret handshake, no initiation ceremony, no shared letters stitched across a jacket. They don’t wear the same colors to work, yet to do their job, they all don the same headset.

They are beloved and belittled, celebrated and second-guessed. Many are household names and hometown heroes. In fact, you might know more about them than your state senator, your local congressperson, or even your governor. You could likely pick them out of a crowd—and gladly would.

Who makes up this coveted crew? The 32 head coaches of the NFL for the 2026–2027 season and I love the annual tradition of their group photo.

The “class photo” began informally—just a group of coaches gathering during their annual meetings. But the image reveals something deeper. These men know one another. They’ve crossed paths for years—playing, coaching, competing, collaborating across the league’s 32 organizations. The circle is small, and it changes quickly. After all, the NFL can just as easily stand for “Not For Long.” This year alone, new faces have already stepped into the frame. And that’s part of what makes the photo meaningful.

For a brief moment, rivals stand shoulder to shoulder. Competitors pause. The noise quiets. And the role they share matters more than the differences that divide them. You get the sense that each one knows just how rare—and how fragile—his place is. Again, it’s a simple photo. But it offers a subtle lesson and begs us to consider: What if our communities did the same

What if we made space, even briefly, to recognize those who lead—imperfectly, publicly, and under constant scrutiny? Not to ignore disagreements, but to remember the weight of responsibility they carry. Not to erase differences, but to acknowledge a shared commitment to something larger than themselves.

I encourage organizations and institutions to do the same. Make the effort to take a group photo. Help people understand they are part of something much bigger. In making this an annual tradition, others begin to notice both the pillars and the newcomers—the ones just finding their footing and the ones who have carried the weight for years. Some arrive young; others grow old in the work. It’s special. It’s meaningful. And yes, it can even be fun.

LOVED this class: RS 300

And by fun, what I mean is the analysis and sheer color commentary that this photo sparks. I've probably watched at least 10 Instagram reels on this topic. Sports talk pundits take no mercy on the strong personalities, their size and shape, the fitness and facial expressions of this group. From Kubiak's calf muscle, to John Harbaugh's cut off white socks inside his loafers, not to mention Mike Vrabel taking over both arm rests, I laughed and looked again. Yes, Kyle Shanahan does look as though he is dressed to be in the south of France. And this year, the group includes two sets of brothers: John and Jim Harbaugh as well as Matt and Mike LaFleur. The newest sibling, Mike LaFleur, the head coach of the Arizona Cardinals is 6'1".  However, according to Pat MacAfee, Mike makes the coach to his right— John Brady look 6'9." (They love his Rolex, too). Very true.

If you count closely, you’ll notice only 30 men standing and smiling. Cleveland Browns head coach Todd Monken is missing—he was getting a haircut. Ironically, it was for the photo, but it was taken 20 minutes early, and he missed it. He later “joked he has plenty of incentive for not going one-and-done, so he can make his first appearance in the photo next year.”

I love this photo for multiple reasons. My Grandmother sent us Easter outfits so my mom scheduled a photo shoot. I decided to cut my sister's bangs to help her get ready.
I love that my mom decided to keep the photo shoot.

Whether it's this year, next year or ten years from now, a simple snapshot becomes something more. It tells a story of belonging and change, of continuity and calling. Faces come and go, but the mission endures and the goal for these men remains the same. #Lombardi

My favorite movie is "Dead Poets Society." In one scene Robin Williams, Mr. Keating their English teacher and an alum of the school takes his class into the hallway to look at the photographs that litter the walls of Welton Academy. The images—they're black and white. Many are faded. They are familiar and yet they are different. 

Keating zooms in and begs his students to do the same. He says, 

They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see, gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen. You hear it?... Carpe... Hear it?... Carpe. Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.

I think this is the role of a coach, of a teacher, a school administrator—most leaders! make your life and especially of those you serve: extraordinary.

The tradition of a group photo captures more than a moment in time. It’s a reminder that no one stands alone, and that every role, however brief, is part of something lasting.

Photo Credits
Insta Photo of Head Coaches
Classic Photo

Two Assists for One Goal

My sister is great at telling jokes. She has a penchant for remembering them (half the battle!). She can reference a good one easily. Her delivery is outstanding and her timing is impeccable. As a primary school educator, it's a handy tool in the tool box. My gift? This should not come as a surprise: finding a good metaphor for sports and spirituality.

Most of my analogies are straightforward and speak for themselves. One need not be a devoted sports fan or deeply spiritual to understand and appreciate them. Others are more specialized, shaped for a particular audience. Some come easily, but not all. From time to time, I have to let a metaphor cook—or bake—churning it over until something settles into place. The core ingredient is there, but something is still missing. Such is the case with the assist—but in this instance, I mean the assist in hockey.

I have written about the assist and its significance. As written in Remembering Fr. Ted Hesburgh for A Lifelong Assist

An assist is credited to a player who makes a pass or play that directly leads to a goal or basket. It is a vital component of many team sports, including basketball, soccer, lacrosse, and field hockey. It shows how teamwork—not just scoring—helps a team succeed. 

The assist is one of the more selfless stats in all of sports. You have to think of your teammates and have a wider vision of who they are and where they are in order to get one. The assist makes scoring and winning happen; without one you have a lot of "I"s in that team. As a way of teaching its importance, UNC's Hall of Fame coach, Dean Smith "drummed into his players that, after scoring, each should point at the teammate who made the basket possible." 

I started to think of how the world might be different if we all recognized the person who gives us an assist. Too often, assists go unnoticed (which is why Coach Smith's innovation is so thoughtful and poignant).

However, in hockey, an assist is a bit more generous and structured than in other sports.  Up to two players can get assists on a single goal. In fact, a goal can have: a primary assist (last player to pass the puck) and a secondary assist (the player who passed it before that). The hockey assist depends on continuous team possession. Ultimately it rewards build-up play, not just the final pass! Talk about a wider vision.

I have let this facet of hockey marinate in my mind for some time. And I'm glad I did as I found a meaningful analog.

My mom has been in a skilled nursing facility since February 6, 2026. Since her diagnosis with ovarian cancer she has struggled in the hospital and at home. She lost so much strength and is in need of daily physical therapy and greater medical care than we could provide at home. The drawback is that the days and nights can get long and lonely.

It has been humbling to see how family and friends have reached out—with phone calls, text messages, cards, gift cards, and so many acts of service and love. Although my mom hasn’t been very active, visitors seem to restore her energy. Just last week, I reached out to a beloved neighbor, Josie from my parents’ old neighborhood, and her visit lifted my mom’s spirits in a beautiful way. She brought with her another neighbor, Jackie. The three of them had lunch together just one year earlier!

Two days later, another former neighbor, Marie, came to see my mom. She stayed for over an hour. My mom was deeply touched. "We laughed so much! We had so much to talk about. We share great memories from those days in Walnut Creek."

Marie was my brother's confirmation sponsor. When I got my acceptance letter into Notre Dame she came to our house with flowers. It made me sad that we had lost touch over the years but grateful for all we have shared.

I sent a text message to Josie thanking her for reaching out to Marie. She said "I can't take credit for that. Jackie is in better contact with Marie. She notified her." 

And there you have it: two assists for one goal. Josie brought Jackie and Jackie brought Marie. All get credit for showing up, but one is not necessarily independent of the other.

I take heart in this metaphor. All is connected. None of us stand alone. It’s important to recognize those who make the assist—the quiet contributors whose presence makes something greater possible. Whether in basketball or hockey, may we celebrate the good that comes from a wider vision and a deep commitment to one another.

And please continue to pray for my mom, her caregivers and her visitors!

Photo Credits
The Assist