Book Review and Recommendation: I'm Not a Robot and Neither Are You by Alex Montoya

One of the intentions offered at Sunday mass was "for artists, musicians, authors and poets. In gratitude for the beauty and truth that they bring to our world." I paused when I heard the word author. I immediately thought of my friend and classmate Alex Montoya. All of ten minutes before Mass, I finished his latest book I'm Not a Robot and Neither Are You! I have read all of Alex's books but this one pierced my heart. I laughed, I cried and yes, I too burst into "I Want to Know What Love Is." As the lector proclaimed "For this, we pray to the Lord." I enthusiastically responded "Lord, hear our prayer."

I had the pleasure of meeting up with Alex this July in his beloved East Village neighborhood in San Diego. I wanted to catch up with him and also introduce him to my two nieces. Alex’s warm presence made an immediate impression—Grace and Lucy were captivated by his stories. Father Greg Boyle had it right when he said "good stories come to those who tell them." Alex has made a living—literally and metaphorically in doing so. 

During our visit, Alex handed me a copy of his sixth book. At first, I thought the title was a little generic. Little did I know that the foreshadowing he offers in the introduction—about the title— would become one of the most meaningful parts of his work.

Whether you’ve known Alex for two minutes, two years, or twenty, he has a way of turning expectations on their head—flipping the script, proving doubters (like me) wrong, and reminding others why they were right to believe in him. Through it all, he consistently offers inspiration and hope—something we all need. Therefore, I’d like this post to serve as both a book review and a recommendation.  

The premise of I'm Not a Robot and Neither are You! is not new. The science behind cultivating an “attitude of gratitude” is well documented, and creating a gratitude list is a familiar practice—whether or not one is religious or spiritual. What sets this book apart, however, is the perspective and experiences of the author. What Alex has been given, and what he chooses to be grateful for, made me eager to read each entry. He even notes, “My Gratitude List is 500 items long. But don’t worry, I don’t list them all. I’m not trying to recreate War and Peace here.” I don’t know, Alex—if more of us saw the world as you do, we might actually find ourselves a little closer to world peace.

Montoya organizes his reflections into five themed chapters, and the evidence speaks for itself: the more I read, the more I found myself highlighting, tabbing, and wanting to remember.

I’ve often heard that reading expands our capacity for empathy. Through Alex’s gratitude list, I came to better understand the physical, mental, and emotional challenges of living with a disability. None can be separated from the other. At the same time, I grew in admiration for my friend’s resolve and resilience. He has fallen and gotten back up—or out of a bathtub as one story reveals (#78: Splish, Splash I was taking a bath). In another entry, Alex recalls being in a grocery store when a stranger blurted out, “Dang, dude, look at you. Lookin’ like a robot up in here. Are you a robot?” Instead of ignoring the man or reacting in anger, Alex did the unexpected. AND he wrote about it, too. Please, read for yourself (#487: I'm Not a Robot).

Speaking of... a few of his "thank you notes" also serve as valuable reminders. For example "Gratitude List Item #161: Wait List" states

One thing that makes most of us unhappy is waiting. We live in an era of instant gratification. Waiting at the bank, doctor's office, airport or anywhere else is not pleasant. Unless you bring reading material! It is fairly common for people to state they intend to read more. This is a perfect opportunity. ... I am grateful that reading whenever I wait has increased my peace and patience.

Alex loves to carry Notre Dame Magazine with him. I love that he has been profiled in this quarterly journal several times. One of my all time favorites is from Stories of Us. Go Irish.

Our friendship has grown and deepened since college because we share so common values and interests. We check in on music documentaries, sports lore and of course our love for ND. Alex oversees a Facebook group that I follow closely, "Irish Fans United." I love his breakdowns of each football game, usually written 12, 24 or 48 hours after the contest. His entry "Gratitude Item List #7: Sports Department" he writes

I love sports. If it bounces, I'll watch it—particularly football, baseball, soccer and basketball. Even sports I am not a rabid fan of I will still watch casually and keep track of it's leading athletes or teams. When I immigrated to the United States at age 4, my first entrée into American culture was through athletics.

My aunt, who I was just increasingly calling "mom" taught me the rules and nuances of football. Mom told me when I watched a game on television,"Pay attention. Every play matters." No wonder then that my teacher said, "Alex Montoya, no wonder you know so much about sports. You are the only student in here actually watching the game."

Neighborhood play and schoolyard recess had already shown me that with three prosthetics, I couldn't play very many team sports. But I could announce them as play-by-play, which my friends loved. I could analyze and dissect gains on TV, which made mama proud. And I could recount every last play, which impressed my teachers. At age six, I already knew I would love sports forever.

Alex reminds me of a simple truth: pay attention. Taking notice and observing what is unfolding on the field (and not your phone) makes for a passion that is both intelligent and infectious. He is a great friend and teacher in and through sport. 

Alex urges his audience at all times to "See the Good." The man truly does it. More than once the outcomes and takeaways from his challenges humbled and humored me. In "Gratitude List Item #342: God Won't Rob You," Alex shares story an extra Padres ticket only to "go to the game solo, like Han." (that's Star Wars humor for you). He admits "I was a little miffed that day that God hadn't made it so my extra ticket was used by a buoyant buddy or beautiful brunette. Then, when I saw the seats next to me were empty I felt especially lonely." You need to read it to find out who shows up. I guarantee you too will ask, "Who says God can't?!"

In Scripture, we are told, “If you seek, you shall find.” I am grateful that Alex sought, found, and chose to share through story. I plan to read select entries with my students throughout the semester, and I invite you to do the same with your own children, family, or friends. Perhaps his book will even inspire you to begin a Gratitude List of your own. If it does, be prepared!  Alex writes, “The more you are grateful for, the more God will give you.” I love this perspective—it echoes the bold question Alex asks: “Who says God can’t?!”

I don't think you can make up what transpired in #408: Sing Along. The story came to to Alex (and to Cort) because he can tell it. And he should. Alex, you know what love is: the love of God, of family—both near and far, or friends—old and new. Thank you for giving and receiving love—in abundance. Something else a robot can't do. 

Photo Credits
Book
Alex and Books
In the Dugout 

Seven Stages Teachers Go Through During Summer Break: Sports and Spirituality Style

Calling all teachers. If you are seeking authenticity and honesty, insight and truth—look no further than Stages Teachers Go through During Summer Break. (I hope that made you laugh). I do not doubt that this meme will resonate with you. And, it can serve as a great way for us to capture how we spent the last eight weeks. Given that teachers I work with report to school tomorrow and start classes on Friday, it's time for Sports and Spirituality to speak to each stage. Enjoy.

Summer 2025.

Stage One: The Sleeping Stage (June)
In the 1980s, a banner inside the Edmonton Oilers’ hockey stadium proclaimed, “On the eighth day, God made Gretzky.” What it didn’t say—or remind us—is that this might have been possible because, on the seventh day, He rested.

So too it is with teachers. There has to be some time for sleep—because it's not a given during the school year. Nothing is more liberating that those first few days of sleeping in, sleeping long, and sleeping hard. Love this stage.

Stage Two: The Health Stage (Mid-June)
The narrator proclaims "I don't think I'm going to have another carb all summer. No seriously, I think I'm going to work out twice a day...starting tomorrow."

Although the story was published in the late July issue of Men's Health, the feature Luka Dončić 2.0 Has Entered the Chat inspired me to recommit to what I too promised myself in mid-June, too.

While I don't have a personal chef and in spite of the fact training, lifting and getting fit isn't my full time job, I still felt that as a teacher with the summer off something similar might be possible. I was wrong. 

I did go to StretchLab and the gym in the same day....once. I think I had one day of high protein and gluten free bread, but I got interrupted by a show, too. No it wasn't "Love Island." Instead, I had a love affair with Apple TV's show, "Stick" and Owen Wilson instead.

Stage Three: The Cleaning Stage (July)
Fueled by a commitment to give to those in need, lessen my dependence on material goods and increase my appreciation for all I have—the cleaning stage came on fast and hard. I reused, I reduced and I recycled all in the name of simplifying my life and helping others. Why can't I do this 365 days of the year? July vacay is not a requirement for this spiritual discipline.

My nieces got to meet my good friend and classmate "Tio" Alex!

Stage Four: The Travel Stage (July)
One of the worst things a person can say is "I need a vacation from my vacation." Seriously? 
And yet when paired with Dannenbring's question "Can I afford to go to the Amalfi Coast on a teacher's salary?" I get it.

I took my niece Grace to San Diego as her high school graduation gift—a trip that became a true highlight of my summer. I cherished the time with her and her younger sister, Lucy. With no passports, five-star hotels, or hefty bar tabs, the getaway didn’t break the bank.

Two days after returning from SoCal, I joined my usual crew in Lake Tahoe for the American Century Championship. I’m not complaining—the travel stage is one of the perks of being a teacher. But when the casino tables in Tahoe start at $25 minimum, my teacher salary starts barking back. In a single roll of craps, I lost the entire stipend I’d earned proctoring the SAT on a Saturday.

Stage Five: The Random Hobby Stage (Mid-July)
While I didn't learn a new language or get into grilling (FWIW: I applaud both efforts), I did take up stand up paddle boarding (SUP). I made it my goal to get back on the water. Due to my heart condition, I cannot row crew. I am not excited about open water swimming and I don't know how to sail. I figured that SUP is something I could do solo or with others. It takes me out of the fog (the places I'm familiar with launching my SUP are in warmer weather locales (yay!).
I went onto Facebook Marketplace and bought an inflatable board.

Putting effort into pursuing something that has grown beyond a hobby into a new past time brought a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. I now have a water sport that is quite versatile—it is recreational but can contribute to my personal fitness. When I am on the paddle board, I am disconnected with tech and in touch with nature. I took deliberate steps to participate safely and wisely and intend to keep working at it. 

Stage Six: The Denial Stage (August)
No time is a good time for the Back to School missive, but I do understand: it must be sent.  I sure every administrator thinks "damned if I do. Damned if I don't." Whether or not they send the seasonal missive, I do what I can to live in denial....until I can't.

Stage Seven: The Panic Stage (Mid-August)
I think it should be noted that I am still in Stage Six: Denial, but I find that panic is settling in. I managed to purchase a new used car just two weeks ago and it took me until today to make sure my insurance covers the vehicle (thanks St. Chris for the safe passage!). I got a hair cut on Saturday and a temporary crown put on today. I hope to have a plan for world peace by the end of the week.

So special to get to Father Scott's parish in San Diego: Our Lady of Guadalupe

In Conclusion
Being a teacher is a wonderful way to make a living. It is a rewarding profession. We are always learning—far beyond the subjects we teach. We get to start anew with each passing year. Each stage of a teacher's career offers its own challenges and opportunities and as we are reminded so do the stages of summer.  

I'm so grateful for the time I was given and the memories made with family, friends, students and colleagues. Here's to another great year!

Photo Credits
Men's Health

Beating Back to School Dread, Sports and Spirituality Style

I want to thank everyone who has expressed their disbelief, disgust and dismay that early August now marks the start of "Back to School" season. Yes, I too long for the days when school didn’t begin until after Labor Day. And yet, those of us with administrative responsibilities are already back in the building, preparing for that first faculty day. Thankfully, there's no shortage of memes capturing exactly how every teacher is feeling right now.

I’m in charge of icebreakers.  Whether you dread the requisite "dynamica" or not, it’s rare for any community gathering to begin without at least one—or two, or more. Fortunately, there’s no shortage of resources online—and now even AI—to help school leaders, meeting coordinators, or party planners find the perfect low, middle and high risk activity. Yes, even icebreakers fall into categories..

I'm partial to icebreakers that are both clever and whimsical. I like those that teach me a little bit about another person and myself. A good icebreaker will get juices flowing and elicit smiles. Best case scenario leads to clapping, laughter—maybe a high five or two. They need not be competitive. I say save that for later in the day. In the meantime, here's one of my favorite icebreakers—Sports and Spirituality style. You can use it with faculty or with your students.

Icebreaker: My N.A.M.E. (shocking, I know)
Risk: low to medium
Objective: to get to know each other to think of interesting facts that correspond to the letters of their first name. Have each participant share their acronym with someone next to them. 

Consider the letters of your first name. Find a thematic word for each letter—one that can tell a story about who you are. Here's my example, using my name, Anne.
A: American Studies. 
N: Negative
N: Naughton
E: Eclectic

 A: American Studies
I loved my major. Housed within the College of Arts and Letters, I found my way to American Studies almost by accident. I hadn’t been familiar with the field, but today I take every opportunity to share it with current students. While Notre Dame doesn’t offer a journalism degree, many alumni writers and editors earned their B.A. in American Studies. The program explores American culture and life, requiring students to choose two of three disciplines—government, English, and history. I chose the latter two, along with a wide range of cross-listed courses that enriched my experience in the department.

A huge shout out to fellow Farleyite Megan Derbes McCarthy '96 for telling me about our major.

N: Negative
I don’t consider myself a pessimistic person, but I am fascinated by the moments in life when a negative becomes a positive. My mind immediately goes to golf.

In this game, the pros often post scores in the negative. It's one of the rare sports where being “in the red” is a good thing—where the lowest score wins.

Beyond the course, I find myself drawn to the idea of addition by subtraction. When has less truly been more? Sometimes, a team improves after losing a player whose attitude or demands were holding them back.

On a brighter note, a negative can ignite change. A tough loss or a bad experience can fuel a deeper desire to improve, to work harder, to grow. Without that early-season loss to Northern Illinois, would Notre Dame have had the remarkable run they did? Though the Irish ultimately fell short in the National Championship, that initial setback sparked a season that leaves us only with memories in the black.

look at all those negative numbers on the board!

N: Naughton
Naughton is my mother's maiden name. Her father, Michael John Naughton, like many who share his surname came from Co. Roscommon, in the west of Ireland.

When I traveled to the Emerald Isle in 2022, I purchases a keychain with the Naughton family crest for my mom. On the back was the translation of the name. It said, "A personal name meaning bright or pure." To read that definition took my breath away. As written in my blog post FIT—My One Word Theme of the Year: What's Yours? my theme word for 2022 —pure— is part of my family lineage. 

E: Eclectic
Look to the 10 stations programmed on my car stereo and you will find that my musical taste and listening preferences are quite eclectic. From country to hard rock, classical to musica Latina, public and sports talk radio, more country, pop and even a modern jazz station are on queue. I'm proud of that I hold a spectrum of musical interests as song has always been a wonderful way to connect with others. 

In conclusion

• I recommend giving a little bit of lead time for people to consider descriptions for each letter. It's not just the introverts who will appreciate the lead time.
• Those with longer names are free to use an abbreviated version e.g. Jenn for Jennifer or Gus for Augustine.
• Every person also has the right to pass on one letter in their name. Dealer's choice.

Ultimately, this icebreaker allows a person to tell a story, to think creatively, to share a little bit about themselves and find all of that and more in another person. Teachers might be thrilled to start fresh and begin anew. Others are doing what they can to get in the door. Somewhere in between lies the opportunity to listen to one another, offer insight, have fun and break the ice.
I believe it more and more—investing in our social capital pays the greatest dividends. 

Here's to a great year!

Photo Credits
Teaching is a work of the heart
Leader Board
Ice Breakers
Truth for Teachers

Building Bridges with a Tow Truck, Soccer and a Story

The concluding unit for Sports and Spirituality is "Building a Culture of Encounter: Sports and Catholic Social Teaching." Given the recent passing of Pope Francis, his words on this topic are ever more poignant and meaningful. Like Pope John Paul II, not only was Pape Franceso a sport aficionado, he too embraced sport as a key pillar of the Catholic Church's social vision. I didn't need my car towed 30 miles from Walnut Creek to appreciate his teaching, but let's just say more than the Bay Bridge was crossed on a Sunday in May.

Upon safe delivery and transport of my Jeep to my mechanic,
I asked Siar if we could take a photo together

While many Catholics take heart in knowing Pope Leo is a White Sox and Villanova fan, he is far from the first pope to share his allegiance. But according to our text, On the Eighth Day, "more than his predecessors, Pope John Paul II saw sport as one of the crucial signs of the times, a 'cultural mediator' uniquely 'capable of interpreting contemporary man's hopes and needs'. In addition, sports' global popularity gave it a special potential to help build a civilization of love..." More specifically, John Paul commended sport for transcending barriers of race, religion, politics and ethnicity. Pope Francis built on JPII's "civilization of love" with his own term: the "culture of encounter."

For the purpose of this blog, I have often quoted a definition given by Holy Cross priest, Father Joe Corpora, C.S.C. He has said “The culture of encounter... simply means this: 'You have something good to give to me, and I have something good to give to you." It's so simple and so true. If we could engage with another person believing we all have something to give and receive—a smile, a tip, a handshake or hug. Maybe we can hear a story or learn a lesson. How might the world be different? 

The truth is that encounter has becoming increasingly more difficult. Many times we only see our differences, our perceived identity or interests. In light of these challenges, Francis sought to clarify the purpose of encounter. He wrote regularly about this—he spoke to specifics and modeled what it meant as it applies to sport. As written in "On the Eighth Day," 

A culture of encounter thus becomes a culture of contact rather than isolation, a culture of dialogue rather than monologue, and a culture of respecting difference and listening, even the face of firmly held commitments. In Francis‘s words, "to speak of a culture of encounter means we as people should be passionate about meeting others seeking points of contact building bridges planning a project that includes everyone."

Francis holds that sport can play a critical role in fostering a culture encounter, as well as the church's overall evangelizing mission, crossing lines of race, sex, religion and ideology, the sporting fields can be a place of “unity and encounter among people."

The Culture of Encounter was evident throughout his twelve year papacy. In that time, the Holy Father met shared with the faithful his love for soccer, he gave an address before the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, he took photos with the Harlem Globetrotters and asked to meet with NBA players in November 2020 as a response to the events around the death of George Floyd. It is safe to say that the Culture of Encounter has emerged as a hallmark of Francis' papacy. 

The question his teaching raises for me, for my students and for you is not Why should I care? but What does this mean in my life? What might the Culture of Encounter look like? feel like? And how can I engage? I hope this story might offer a few insights.

With 190,000+ miles on it, my 2015 Jeep Cherokee is running on borrowed time. My goal is to have it for 225,000 miles and I'm not even convinced that I can or will give it up at that time! 

Car problems never emerge as a convenient time. And, it would be naive of me to think that at this mileage they are unlikely. Therefore, when the radiator busted and sent the engine temperature to red, I knew I had to get help. The alternative meant losing the car then and there. 

I called Triple A and one hour later Siar came to tow my Jeep Cherokee from the East Bay, across the Bay Bridge and to my mechanic in San Francisco. He told me to hop in the seat beside him and the hour long journey began.

I wasn't worried about making conversation with Siar, but I wasn't sure how it would go. I have never been to Afghanistan, and regrettably, what I know about this ancient, landlocked country is likely no more than what most Americans know. My associations aren't exactly positive. Due to Sports and Spirituality however, I remembered something else. I carry with me a remarkable story about an American who lived and stayed in its capitol city, Kabul because of soccer.

With Siar, I did exactly what I profess in my blog post entitled, Faraway Goal: Using story and soccer to talk about Afghanistan. Instead of my students, I was able to talk to Siar about Nick Pugliese, an American who found an opportunity to continue his soccer career after college in an unlikely place: Afghanistan’s pro soccer league with Ferozi FC. 

I told him this story, more than many others inspires and sparks my student's interest. The words of Dan Arruda, the ESPN producer who spent ten days in Afghanistan with Pugliese resonate with me. He said, “I was just fascinated by the idea of an American all by himself living in this country and of all the things, he was playing professional soccer. It just seemed very surprising to me and I wondered what his life was like.”

Siar told me all about Kabul. I'm not sure that Siar was a fan of Nick's team. He was however aware that Ghazi stadium, Ferozi FC's home, was once used by the Taliban for public executions. Fortunately, in Pugliese's tenure, it became a locale for  Afghani "association football matches." I didn't ask him what it's like today.

Soccer was the starter, the bridge and key to encounter. I came to find out more about Siar's family, especially his two year old daughter. I asked him what family members will still in Afghanistan and if he wants to visit anytime soon. 

He shared with great pride that he is now an American citizen. I should have asked him what he thinks of the MLS.

Again, encounter has becoming increasingly more difficult. Anyone could just be on their phone or engage with social media instead of talk. However, thanks to this philosophy and to soccer, what was a slightly stressful situation was made better. 

Practically speaking, Siar gave me a ride and towed my car. I gave him business and I gave him a story. But given this philosophy, I realize, I gained a deepened appreciation for one man's commitment to supporting his family and making a go at the American dream. 

Indeed, my memories are what Pope Francis professed, "A culture of encounter thus becomes a culture of contact rather than isolation, a culture of dialogue rather than monologue, and a culture of respecting difference and listening." We have so much to give and to receive from one another....even with a broken radiator!

Photo Credits
Kabul
Nick and friends
Pope selfie

Remembering Ryne Sandberg with one word: Respect

I don’t wear gear to support other teams. When it comes to baseball, it’s orange and black—nothing else. In the fall, I wear blue and gold on Saturdays for the Irish and red and gold on Sundays for the Niners. I even once questioned a close friend about the hat she was wearing for another team. “I could never do that,” I told her. It felt like a matter of principle—almost right and wrong—but I reminded myself this wasn’t a moral issue. And yet, there’s one curious exception to my personal ethic of fandom: a Pee-Chee folder I had, proudly featuring Ryne Sandberg in his Cubs uniform. His recent passing made me pause—and remember. Why him? Why did he get a pass?

There's no doubt in my mind that Sandberg made an impression on me because he was a starter for the Cubs who played the Giants in the 1989 National League Division Championship series. The Giants won the pennant in five games. I  attended 20 games at Candlestick Park with my brother during the regular season and was lucky enough to attend NCLS Game 4 with my Dad. Although an athlete named Mark Grace, stood to Ryno's left at first base, "grace" is exactly what I saw in #23.

At 6'2", Ryne Sandberg made the game—and his position—look almost effortless. He was the consummate teammate and professional athlete. I’m not sure I ever saw him lose his temper, or even show much emotion. He carried himself with class and elegance, power and poise. Sure, his handsome face didn’t hurt, but there was something else—an intangible quality that didn’t just speak, it screamed volumes. His Hall of Fame induction speech speaks directly to that very thing. You can watch it here.

Inducted in 2005, he said

The reason I am here, they tell me, is that I played the game a certain way, that I played the game the way it was supposed to be played. I don't know about that, but I do know this: I had too much respect for the game to play it any other way. And if there is a single reason I am here today, it is because of one word: 'Respect.'"

I was taught you never, ever disrespect your opponent or your teammates or your organization or your manager. Make a great play — act like you've done it before. … Hit a home run — put your head down, drop the bat, run around the bases. Because the name on the front is a lot more important than the name on the back.

A lot of people say this honor validates my career, but I didn't work hard for validation. I didn't play the game right because I saw a reward at the end of the tunnel. I played it right because that's what you're supposed to do — play it right and with respect. If this validates anything, it's that learning how to bunt, and hit and run, and turn two is more important than knowing where to find the little red light on the dugout camera.

To hear Ryne Sandberg articulate the importance of this one word in his Hall of Fame career illuminated what I must have seen all along. Respect speaks for itself. His actions on the field pointed the way.

Respect is one of my core values. In my classroom, it’s non-negotiable. Every semester, I tell my students (and athletes): If at any point you feel that respect has been compromised—by someone, something, or even by me—please talk to me. It is one of the greatest goods; so much flows from it.

In a life that left us too soon, I can only hope that today's athletes and coaches, fans and friends will understand, celebrate or remember what we saw on a baseball diamond or a desk at Carondelet High School many years ago.

Photo Credits
YouTube
Folders: Photos are of mine! 

A Recipe for a Fulfilling Life: Lombardi, Scheffler and Tobolski Weigh In

Over lunch after a round of golf with a good mix of friends, someone asked, “Did you hear Scottie Scheffler’s comments before The Open?” The responses—from a group that included several avid golf fans—were varied, thoughtful, and insightful. We unpacked what he said, what he might have meant, and how he said it. Having just written about it the night before, I shared what I posted and yet, there was still more to say!

So grateful for these relationships AND how committed to excellence these people are...

Scottie's remarks made for excellent conversation because ultimately, he is asking the question we all must ask of ourselves, of others, of our society. What makes for a fulfilling life? Whether he knows it or not, he gave the answer and left room for one more: commitment to excellence, relationships and mystery.

Commitment to Excellence:
No one will question Scottie Scheffler's commitment to excellence. His has been ranked number one in the world since 2023. He works extraordinarily hard at a singular endeavor and his efforts result in Ws....by many strokes. By the age of 29, has won four majors and is just one title away from a career Grand Slam.

But what haunts Scottie has haunted many others, including tennis legend, Andre Agassi. In his autobiography "Open," he confessed "part of my discomfort with tennis has always been a nagging sense that it is meaningless." His remarks don't strike me as shallow or seeking sympathy. Sure, the life of a professional athlete appears to glamorous and desirable, but it comes with questions of deeper meaning. (The article "What's the point?" offers several examples of athletes who raise this question). And it should. No lives are being saved, no nations defended or lessons learned. So what, right? 

The late, great American football coach Vince Lombardi offers important advice. He said, "The quality of a man's life is in direct proportion to his commitment to excellence, regardless of his chosen field of endeavor."

I love his message because it speaks to all of us—to Tom Brady, my parish priest, teachers, truckers, dancers and doctors. Every person can commit themselves to excellence in their work. Moms and dads, aunts and uncles, artists, accountants, offensive linemen, wide receivers, bat boys and girls, politicians and the police. 

While professional athletics is a highly favored field of endeavor, what about those who labor in less desirable circumstances? I would argue the commitment to excellence remains (although I'm struggling with the example of the meter maid). Nothing beats the feeling of completing a hard task and a job well done. Easy for me to say, but I can't help but think this is inherent to the story of a Helen Tobolksi. She served on the custodial staff at the University of Notre Dame and tragically, she was killed at the age of 62 on campus. Her killer has never been found.

I have wanted to write about her since I read the piece "A Life Lost, A Mystery Unsolved," in the Spring 2025 issue of Notre Dame magazine. Ken Bradford '76 said, "she had been an ND employee for 13 years, Her primary job was as a maid in Grace Hall, then a men's dorm, but she picked up extra hours cleaning academic buildings." I encourage you to read the rest of the story here.

I've never questioned the value of a custodian's work. While their jobs may not be glamorous or widely sought-after, maids and janitors are essential workers whose labor deserves deep respect. Our spaces are cleaner, healthier, and better because of their daily efforts.

Indeed there are those who never question if their work matters and as with Scottie, there are those who do—but we can all consider our commitment to excellence. A fulfilling life is found part and parcel right there. I believe Scottie has a sense of that AND yet he seeks more. This is where relationships weigh in...

Relationships
Unlike Agassi who also revealed that he hated tennis. Scottie said, "I love the challenge. I love being able to play this game for a living. It’s one of the greatest joys of my life, but does it fill the deepest wants and desires of my heart? Absolutely not.” Instead, Scheffler said that his family mattered far more – and he would stop playing professional golf if it ever affected his relationship with his wife, Meredith, and his son, Bennett. 

Clearly, those words weren't in vain. Moments after sinking his final putt, Scottie embraced his wife and held tight to his 14-month-old son. Seeing him cradle both Bennett and the Claret Jug spoke volumes. Watching Scottie and his caddie, Teddy, laugh and play with Bennett on the green was heartwarming. Even his parents, Scott and Diane, were there—his dad handing off an iPhone for a celebratory photo with his mom. That’s as normal as it gets! Support from family, friends, and teammates matters—and it’s one of the most meaningful byproducts of the relationships we build.

The importance of relationships for a fulfilling life is not new. It's far from a best kept secret. As one of my favorite authors, Gretchen Rubin—notes, "Ancient philosophers would agree that if you had to pick one secret to a happy life, it would be strong relationships. Enduring bonds. People you confide in. People you can rely on. You need to both get and give support." 

Social scientists today add that these relationships can come in all shapes and sizes—from siblings to neighbors, colleagues and cousins. Loose ties are not to be underestimated. For example, your hairdresser, local barista, freshman English teacher or a fellow parishioner: all can have a positive impact on you.

Again, the example of Helen Tobolski weighs in. Her daughter Marilyn said "she really loved interacting with the students and got to know many of them." Upon reading those words, I thought back to the women who wore a uniform short sleeved blue coat both in the dining hall and in my dorm. I considered the work of these men and women who made Farley feel like home. I was saddened to think I didn't get to know them in the way that Helen got to know the residents of Grace Hall. I saw them. I appreciated them, but I missed out on that relationship. 

The good news is that this opportunity still exists in my work place today. Although our custodial staff doesn't wear the striking blue coat, I do know them by name. I hope they know mine.

Mystery
A commitment to excellence and relationships are the stuff of a meaningful life and yet, so is something more. So too, is this searching and this longing. We know the way—the proper path—and yet we do not. This is where Jesus' invitation "Come and See" offers respite and opportunity. 

Saint Augustine has said "our hearts are restless until they rest in thee." While many people know the prophetic words of this doctor of the Church, it's worth remembering the first part: You have made us for yourself O God.

Jesus' invitation coupled with the understanding for what we have been made—whether we play professional golf or clean dorms—require a commitment to excellence and a relationship to The Divine, the great Mystery—to Godself.  

I can't help but think Helen Tobolski lived a fulfilling life. And in spite of his questions, I think Scottie does too. Please weigh in on this one.... 

Photo Credits
Helen Tobolski
Scottie 
Scheffler family

Existential Excellence: Scottie Scheffler’s Search for Meaning...and Ours, Too.

As I watched Scottie Scheffler hoist the Claret Jug after his first Open Championship victory, it was hard to reconcile the moment with something he had said just the day before: “This is not a fulfilling life.” Those were the words of the world’s No. 1 golfer on the eve of the final major of the year. According to ESPN, Scheffler admitted, “That is something that I wrestle with on a daily basis.” He continued, “It’s like showing up at the Masters every year—why do I want to win this golf tournament so badly? Why do I want to win the Open Championship so badly? I don’t know, because if I win, it’s going to be awesome for two minutes.”

He went even further: “I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?” He paused and asked, “Does this make any sense?”

Yes. And that's exactly why Sports and Spirituality would like weigh in

It's natural for golf writers is to compare Scottie to the other greats in the game. ESPN writes, "Scheffler, 29, is now the third-youngest player with 15 PGA Tour victories and four majors; only Tiger (24) and Jack Nicklaus (25) were younger. He is only the fourth golfer to win the Masters, PGA Championship and The Open before turning 30; Woods, Nicklaus and Gary Player were the others. That's elite company." Indeed it is. 

There’s value in understanding a player’s impact by comparing them to those who came before, but Scottie Scheffler’s story is still unfolding. Yes, he’s made significant strides in his short game—switching from a blade to a mallet putter and adopting a claw grip for short putts has paid dividends. And sure, his unorthodox "dancing feet" contribute to the power and consistency of his swing.

But there’s something more—something different. It’s what makes fellow pros like Xander Schauffele admit, “He’s a tough man to beat, and when you see his name up on the leaderboard, it sucks for us.”

So what is that difference? Does Scottie know it? Do we? And once we recognize it—what do we do with it?

I’m not an expert on Scottie Scheffler—I’ll leave the swing analysis, stats, and shot-tracking to the golf pros and technicians. But as a fan—of golf, of sports, and of the 6'3" Texan (originally from New Jersey)—I find myself drawn to something deeper. Pablo Torre, co-host of Pardon the Interruption, captured it perfectly:

"He talks about the game like he is a character in a documentary about his life, twenty years from now. He has this sort of existential wisdom as to why he is not fulfilled by it, but he is nonetheless obsessed with it. He's not the conventional superstar. He's not going to say ‘I want to be an all-time immortal, I want to be a global superstar.’ He's different."

And that difference is exactly what makes him so compelling. It was evident in the interview, where he openly shared the questions he wrestles with—about the game’s purpose and how he lives with its uncertainty. But it was also on display in his final-round pairing with Haotong Li.

Several times, I looked up at the screen and saw something rare for a Sunday at a major: Scheffler and Li laughing, smiling, and playing at a relaxed, almost unhurried pace. Golf Magazine writes, “It was actually super calm, and he’s such a lovely guy to play with,” Li said afterward. “We joked with each other a bit—it was just so nice.” This wasn’t the typical high-stakes showdown or theatrical duel between golf’s titans. Instead, it was two pros—one the world’s best—sharing genuine joy in the moment. That was different.

Given the gravity of the tournament, the massive prize purse, and the pressure that usually defines a major Sunday, the joy I witnessed between them made me appreciate Scottie Scheffler all the more. But where do we go from here? And where does Scottie go? Where should he go? 

If I were Scottie Scheffler’s spiritual director (happy to take that call, Scottie!), I’d encourage him to rest in appreciation. I’d remind him not to get caught up in the “two minutes later” the media keeps asking about—or to look too far ahead. Instead: savor the success. Taste the tears.

Being fully present in a moment or holding on to one while it is happening is a spiritual discipline. I’ve seen it in sports and beyond.

For example, when the San Francisco Giants won their first World Series in 2010, I clung to that title—World Series Champions—everyday until the Cardinals claimed it in 2011. I remember going to the ball park the entire year after and looking at that WS banner with utter delight.

Scottie, you are the 2025 Open Champion. That is yours. No one can take it from you. Enjoy every minute of it.

It’s no accident that the Masters champion is often seen wearing the iconic green jacket during interviews and on late-night television in the days and weeks following the tournament. Just as two people proudly embrace their title of "newlyweds" after a wedding, certain moments in life come with visible signs or symbols. Whether its a jacket or a ring, a name change or a title, these markers allow others to recognize and celebrate the leap and/or accomplishment someone has made. They spark joy, invite applause, and affirm a significant transition. I believe this is the stuff of a fulfilling life.

Scottie already does this, but I think it's ever important to bring others into the fold. He thanked his wife, and held his son on the biggest stage. He honored his parents and sisters. He praised his coach and caddy. His success is their success. No one achieves great things by themselves. He doesn't need the reminder but when asking How or Why? it's important to consider others, too. An individual sport makes this question less likely, both also that much more important.

Finally, Scottie should know is that he’s far from the first to feel this kind of angst. He’s not the only existential athlete. Yes, he’s different—but in this way, he’s not.

An important article we read in my class, “Experiencing Life’s Flow: Sports and the Spiritual Life” by Patrick Kelly, SJ, echoes Scottie’s questions and concerns. It reminds us that even those who reach the pinnacle of their sport can be left asking, “Is this it?”

Jackson had learned from his days as a champion player with the New York Knicks that “winning is ephemeral.” He writes about the Knicks winning the N.B.A. championship against the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1971-72 season. Two days after the victory, the team was in New York for a celebration with families and friends, where movie stars like Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman had also gathered. Jackson felt it should have been the happiest day of his life. “But the intense feeling of connection with my teammates I had experienced in L.A. seemed like a distant memory. Instead of being overwhelmed with joy, I felt empty and confused. Was this it? I kept saying to myself. Is this what was supposed to bring me happiness? Clearly the answer lay somewhere else.”

Scottie Scheffler isn’t the only one raising questions about what makes a life fulfilling. He’s not the only one asking, “What’s the point?”

His honesty, his humility, his quiet conviction, his positive presence on the course amidst those questions and quandaries stand out. I appreciate the similarity and the difference.  I’d dare say: golf is a better game because of you. Congratulations to you Scottie, your family and your team.

Photo Credits
Claret Jug
Laughing

Tale of Two Teammates: Triumph and Tragedy

Classmate is not a word I use lightly. It carries weight—more so as I get older. To call someone a classmate means we shared a chapter of life: the same hallways, common experiences, mutual struggles, and collective victories. I may not know every classmate well—for instance, at Notre Dame, I had about 1,800 of them—but there’s something intangible that connects us. Recent events, both triumphant and tragic surrounding the University of Virginia Class of 2029 made me reflect on the classmates we never get to meet.

My niece and God daughter Grace is headed to Charlottesville this fall. She will join approximately 4,000 other undergraduate students in pursuit of furthering their education and their dreams. She knows her roommate, her dorm and what classes she will be taking. She doesn't need to declare a major until Sophomore year but is looking to pursue a degree in Biology. Grace is not the only student from her high school going to UVA, but no doubt she will be meeting new men and women—her classmates who hail from all over the US. However, two of them won't be there for two very different reasons.

A tale of triumph
Although Novak Djokovic remains on the tour, the retirement of Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal ushered in a new era for men's tennis. A youth movement has taken surge and for now Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz are leading the pack. But one up and coming player is an 18-year old from Rio de Janiero, João Fonseca. The Brazilian had committed to play NCAA tennis at UVA, but after reaching the quarterfinals of the 500-level tournament, Fonseca decided forgo his college plans and pursue tennis professionally.

According to a statement posted on his Instagram account, “It was an incredibly tough decision for me and my family as I have been dreaming about living a college life in Charlottesville, playing the sport that l love with a wonderful team and coach, but, in the last months, professional tennis called me in a way that I simply couldn't say ‘no’.” 

He added, “Although I will not be attending school, I think it is an extremely valuable and viable path for young tennis players (on) their way to professional careers.”

You wouldn’t have seen him in UVA’s blue and orange or Brazil’s green and gold—Wimbledon’s strict dress code wouldn’t allow it—but perhaps you caught a glimpse of João on the grass courts this summer. He made it to the third round, becoming the youngest man to do so since Australia's Bernard Tomic in 2011. Can I get a Cavalier "Wah-hoo-wa!"

A tale of tragedy
The 2025 JSN Colloquium on Jesuit Education at Creighton University was moving, memorable, affirming and challenging. Over 425 educators from Jesuit schools across the country, Canada and Puerto Rico gathered for keynote speakers, panel responses, small group sharing and experiences of prayer in June. 

Jamal Adams, the new President of Loyola High School in Los Angeles, led our first communal Ignatian Reflection. He spoke candidly about the profound challenges his school community faced in 2025. Many families lost their homes in the LA wildfires. In response, the school became a hub of support—a gathering place for those displaced and in need of essentials. The weight of what they carried was palpable, knowing that friends, families, and neighbors were forced to evacuate, relocate, and rebuild their lives. Others on staff felt called to bear witness to this hardship. One teacher said "this semester was like swimming through glue." That image has stayed with me.

I came to find out that a senior named Braun Levi and his family relocated to Manhattan Beach after losing their home in the Palisades fire. On Sunday, May 4, 2025 Braun was killed by a drunk driver. I couldn't process all that I had heard. Losing a home? Losing a life? A son? A student? A friend? I had no words. Another Loyola teacher said "we were just surviving." Given a string of tragedies we had at St. Ignatius about ten years ago, I'm sad to say, "I understand."

Braun was a nationally ranked player, a four-year varsity starter at Loyola, and the Cubs' team captain. Essentially Sports writes,

His coach, Brian Held, spoke to The Los Angeles Times on May 5, saying Levi was “probably the most decorated player to ever play for the school.” Loyola High School’s athletic department echoed that sentiment in a moving tribute on Instagram: “His lovable personality, infectious smile, and boundless energy made him a beloved member of the Loyola community. He was a true Man for and With Others, and we will miss him dearly.”

He was also committed to play at the University of Virginia, starting this fall. When I shared this news with my niece, she pulled up the United States Tennis Association's remarkable tribute Live Like Braun Levi: The Bright Legacy of Loyola High School’s Tennis Star. Together, we both read the entire post. 

I wonder if Grace and Braun would have been friends. His younger sister Adelle said she was his best friend. Their father Dan, said he was and then added, "he made everyone feel that way." I mourn for the Levi family, for the Loyola school community, his former classmates and those who could have been.

Let Us Remember

The 25 year reunion for the Class of 1996 took place in June of 2022. Because of COVID our celebration took place one year later but this did not deter my classmates from showing up. (In fact people are still talking about us. That's right the Class of 1996 came, saw and conquered). One of the most memorable gatherings that weekend was a class mass in Cavanaugh Hall. After the eucharist, a classmate shared a slide show featuring the names and pictures of over 40 classmates who had died. Several were friends. A few were surprising to me. It was both beautiful and difficult, but necessary. We belong to each other, whether we share the journey in practice or in theory, in chronos or kairos, here and now or in our dreams. 

Thinking about both João and Braun and in remembering my own classmates and teammates, I cannot help but realize to know and call another person by either title—sometimes both!—is a blessing. It is a gift, defined by time and space—both ordinary and sacred. Blessed be.

Photo Credits
Lions tennis
Fist bump: Joao
UVA Logo

Why Go on Immersion? Tom Brady Weighs In

In his New England Patriot's Hall of Fame Induction speech, Tom Brady said that young people should play football for but one simple reason: it's hard. Those words resonate with my belief about service and the immersion program at Saint Ignatius College Prep.

I write this after spending a week at Jerusalem Farm in northeast Kansas City—one of ten immersion experiences offered to rising seniors through the Arrupe Center for Social Justice at SI. These service trips, often referred to as “urban plunges,” are a hallmark of many Catholic schools across the country and take place during fall, spring, or summer breaks. Each experience is rooted in our shared mission: to live out a faith that does justice.

I have taken students on many of these service endeavors—to El Salvador. East LA, Tijuana, Camden NJ, Chicago IL and Wheeling, WV. Each trip asks something of me and of young people. I have anxiety before the trip begins and am always relieved when it ends. No matter the location and type of service, I believe in the power (and the glory) of this program. I don't want to wax overly sentimental about what is a seven day venture, but I am a better teacher, colleague, and friend because of my participation in the program. Why? It's hard. And as immersion reveals to all of us, so is life. Brady reminded his audience of both. He said,

I get asked a lot if my kids play football. My response is that I’ll support them in any of their dreams. Whatever makes them happy makes me happy. I would encourage everyone to play football for the simple reason that it is hard.

It’s hard when you’re young to wake up in the offseason at 6 AM to go train and workout, knowing that all your friends are sleeping in and eating pancakes. It’s hard when you’re on your way to practice, weighed down with all your gear, and it’s 90 degrees out, and all the other kids are at the pool or at the beach, and your body is already completely exhausted from workouts and two-a-days. It’s hard to throw, catch, block, and tackle, and hit kids when they’re way bigger and way more developed than you, only to go home that night, bruised and battered and strained, but knowing you have to show up again the next day for just the chance to try again.

But understand this, Life is hard. No matter who you are, there are bumps and hits and bruises along the way. And my advice is to prepare yourself because football lessons teach us that success and achievement come from overcoming adversity, and that team accomplishment far exceeds anyone’s individual goals. To be successful at anything, the truth is you don’t have to be special. You just have to be what most people aren’t. Consistent, determined, and willing to work for it.  No shortcuts.

One need not go on a service trip to get it. A young person does not need to give up one or two weeks of their summer to understand  life is hard. Challenges abound. And yet, I would like to suggest the fierce commitment of the host cites, like Jerusalem Farm to: live simply, pray daily (many time), live in community and give of ourselves in service put each of us to the test.  

As we were driving to the airport, one of the boys in my group confessed that after the second day, he wasn't sure if he could do it. Students give up their cell phones, they share a room with eight to ten other students, and eat vegetarian all week (unless meat is donated). Their schedule is not their own—rising early, beginning the day with prayer, and morning chores. They too were waking up at 6 AM—no sleeping in....pancakes are a long shot. 

On the Farm, no matter who asks What time is it? the answer is the same. It's 10:10. JFarm asks folks to limit showers to every other day, while consider taking a bucket shower at that. The bulk of the day is given to manual labor and working beside others in the community. They aren't two-a-days but they are demanding.

My student's realization was not lost on me. Last year the temperatures were in the upper 90s with high humidity. We worked outside and whereas I used to pride myself on my work ethic and ability to do what the students did, I was forced to confront much more than my limitations. I didn't know if I could do it either. However, I participated in this same immersion last year. I knew what I getting into so I  committed to taking and making it one day at a time. Still this senior's confession is important because in the midst of that doubt, he found a way. He worked hard. He did it and did it well. And he wasn't alone. 

In our service work, we met with people who found support and stability from the community at a Catholic Worker House. Residents had been through rehab and found the "work" helped them maintain their sobriety. This venue has a soup kitchen, a "store" for free clothing and bathrooms. My students cleaned the showers and toilets that people found respite in using. We realized how easy it is to take a clean towel and a safe, private space for granted.

When a man in wheelchair came after hours asking for a cup of water, the leader said "let me check in on him." She hadn't seen him since he lost his foot, from the frost bite of the winter months. He admitted that he was struggling. We remembered him in prayer that evening.

The day that might have been the most physically demanding proved to be the most rewarding, too. After using both jack and sledge hammers, we tossed broken concrete into a dumpster, tore down siding, and eliminated a few wasp nests. Much more than our muscles were engaged in this effort. We learned that the refurbished house would be going to the man who was working beside us. He was a refugee from the Congo whose family fled to Tanzania before he moved to Kansas City. One of my students spoke to him in French. Whether it's the American dream or God's dream for this man and his family—to know and understand he would have his own home is incredible. My heart was full.

The great irony in all of this is that in spite of being hard, football and immersion yield something very precious—close friendships, pride and a sense of accomplishment. Not a bad way to spend a summer.

Photo Credits
none! All mine!