Companions in Courage (26 page)

W
e have talked about courage in its many forms throughout the many stories in this book. We’ve looked at the private wars people
fought against their inner demons, their struggles with disease, loss of limbs, loss of life. I know I’m a better person for
the knowledge I’ve gained. The grace and dignity we’ve witnessed are astounding and touching.

But there’s another aspect of courage—the will to do the right thing, even at great personal expense. This is no small mountain
to scale. If doing the right thing were easy, everyone would do it. Unfortunately, we don’t live in that world.

Now ask yourself this: What would you do for your friend? What sacrifice would you make for a person you love and respect—even
if it meant giving up your own dream? Let me tell you about Esther Kim and her willingness to part with her own goals for
the sake of her friend.

We’ll go back to May 2000, at the U.S. Olympic taekwondo trials. Competing in the flyweight division, and ranked Number 1
in the world, is eighteen-year-old Kay Poe. Olympic observers figure she’s a sure thing for a gold medal in Australia. But,
in her semifinal victory, she dislocates her left kneecap.

She is clearly in no condition to compete in the final, and her opponent, Esther Kim, knows it. Esther, twenty, and Kay have
been friends and training partners for years.

Understand this: In order for Esther to make the team, she would have to defeat Kay. She also knew that, with both of them
healthy, she probably would not win. In her heart, Esther knew Kay was the better of the two.

Now how many of us would have felt pity for our pal but, with an Olympic berth on the line, gone ahead and kicked their butt?
Yeah, a lot of people. Hey, breaks of the game, that sort of stuff, right? We’re a society that judges on wins and losses.
We say things like, “All’s fair in love and war” and “To the victor go the spoils” and “It ain’t cheatin’ if you don’t get
caught.”

But not Esther. Esther wanted to win in a sportsmanlike way or not at all. She needed to defeat the reigning top-ranked fighter
in her division in hand-to-hand combat, with the better person winning. This, of course, could not be. And so she decided
to forfeit the match, sending Kay to the Olympics.

“It would have been unfair to fight someone with one leg,” Esther said.

I still find myself saying “Wow!” when I tell this story. You work at a sport your entire life and it gets added to the Olympics
just as your career is peaking and you forfeit the key match out of a sense of fair play and respect for a friend. Let me
say it again—Wow!

Know what? This story gets better. Esther still gets to go to Australia.

Moved by her gesture, IOC president Juan Antonio Sama-ranch offered to pay for Esther and her father, who coaches both women,
to go to Sydney to see Kay Poe compete. He called from an IOC meeting in Rio de Janeiro to express his thanks for her living
the Olympic ideal.

The two Houston natives, friends for thirteen years, embraced and bowed after the match that never was. Esther told Kay, “We
won.” Her father puts it this way: “I hope that this act that Esther took [sends] a message to all athletes how important
it is to make sacrifices.”

As Esther’s decision was announced at the trials, she and her father escorted the limping Kay to the mat. The crowd cheered
and applauded. Who had ever seen anything like this? Yes, some tears were shed. It doesn’t matter that Kay lost her first
and only Olympic match in Sydney.

“A few years from now, I’ll look back on this,” Esther says. “I will smile a lot and feel proud.”

Esther, there is no point in waiting and no time like the present. You have touched us in a way that no victory, no gold medal,
no accolade or award, ever could.

W
e all have a story—where we began, what happens while we’re here, how we manage, what we learn, and how we continue. Reading
the stories of others gives us a chance to walk in their shoes, to experience their challenges and their triumphs.

It wasn’t until I met Robert, Erik, Angela, Jessica, Paul, Teresa, and all of the other kids at Buffalo’s Children’s Hospital
and Roswell Park that I began to appreciate the power of another person’s story. Being with those kids—knowing their smiles,
their pain, and their courage—changed my life.

They taught me about life and death. They taught me the meaning of toughness, courage, and love. These children and their
stories leave me with two simple realities: Things happen to us and we have to respond. We don’t always have much control
over what happens to us, but we do have a choice in how we respond.

We can feel as if we are just victims of our misfortune. Or we can tap into that deep, inner place within us and find a way
to make our way through the challenge, be it illness, injury, or the death of a friend or loved one.

Inner place? I had only heard of such an idea. Then I came face-to-face with my own hurt. When I thought I was losing my mind
and when darkness haunted me, I came to know desperation. I was in the fight of my life. I needed help. I’m forever grateful
I got it.

This inner place is peaceful, and it is always there. It does not go away when good or bad things happen to us. I didn’t personally
experience this place until I was pushed beyond my own human limits and I saw children and their families pushed beyond theirs.

The inner place is a place of love and strength. Love is really who we are. What happens to us doesn’t change that. Love is
a powerful form of energy that strengthens and comforts us when we tap it. How do we find it? Here’s what I have learned so
far.

When I couldn’t cope, I was forced to reach out. I learned to let people help me. When my friend John Brown died, when asthma
almost grounded my athletic career, when I fell through the ice and almost drowned, somehow I survived and moved on. Up until
my athletic injuries, that’s how life worked for me. I got help along the way, went to church, and was confident and secure
I could get through anything. My injuries taught me the importance of letting others help. The more love is given and received,
the stronger it gets.

I learned to back up and look at the big picture. I realized I learn from whatever happens—good or bad. Getting help, telling
my story, learning from it, listening, and seeing the big picture helped me discover that giving to others leads me to that
inner place of love.

In many ways, I lived the kind of life that others dream of. But professional athletes are just people, facing the very real
issues that confront everyone. I’m fortunate. My own story had a happy ending. Despite several severe injuries, my hockey
career continued and flourished. For that I owe a debt to several doctors, especially James Kelly, and other fine men in hockey
like my coach in Buffalo, Ted Nolan. Sure, I worked hard to get back each time, but I could not have done it without their
help. When I took the ice in what would be my last season, playing for the New York Rangers, I remember feeling so fortunate
that I could still play the game and enjoy it. If everything I endured taught me only one thing, it’s that you can never take
anything for granted. You must live in each moment and cherish it, because it will soon be gone. Whether it’s loving your
family or your work (and ideally it would be both), do it
NOW!
Tomorrow holds no assurances.

I don’t kid myself. I’m not telling you life is without its risks, its losses, its fear and pain. I
am
telling you to revel in life’s glories. I know that you can prevail over doubt, despair, and illness. The truth is we are
resilient. Our strength lies within, just waiting to be tapped, often obscured by fear and ignorance.

We’re not in this alone. Often that is a hard idea to accept. We think we need to work all of this out by ourselves, but we’re
mistaken in trying to fly solo. Reaching out can be so hard. But as we fight to find that inner place, we will learn to lean
on family and friends for strength and comfort. They will give it freely, out of love, but I ask you not to consider it a
gift.

Please think of it as a loan. Then pay it back—with interest. You will only be the richer for doing so.

A portion of my advance from
Companions in Courage
was used to set up companions-in-courage.org, a Web resource intended for athletes, trainers, and everyday miracle workers
to share their experiences and provide one another and all who visit with information and the power and support they need
to achieve their individual dreams.

A portion was also donated to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. The foundation raises national awareness
of Parkinson’s disease and the need for government support of Parkinson’s research.

For more information, go to
www.michaeljfox.org/#
.

All of my earnings from sales of
Companions in Courage
are being donated to the National Hockey League’s Hockey’s All-Star Kids program.

Through the NHL’s relationships with children’s hospitals in Canada and the United States, Hockey’s All-Star Kids program
includes patient visits, fund-raising support, and programs to help create a positive environment for patients and their families.

For more information, see
www.hockeysall-starkids.com
.

Pat LaFontaine

October 2000

Selected by New York Islanders first round, #3 overall 1983 NHL entry draft