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