Earlier today I attended the funeral of my high school baseball coach, Al Frank. Al coached and taught at Archbishop Curley for over 40 years. His mark on the students and athletes who were fortunate to have their lives touched by him is indelible.
Funerals are a bit strange to say the least. There is awkwardness to them. Perhaps it’s seeing many people for the first time in a while and there’s guilt that comes with that. Many will say, “We all need to get together.”
I’m sure the intentions are good and there’s little doubt that such hopeful gatherings would be nice. But unfortunately, it is too often the case that we all get back in the race. We get caught up in our own lives and people that you once knew so well and spent so much time with, slip from the forefront of your thoughts.
It’s no one’s fault per se. It’s the way it goes sometimes. John Lennon got it right when he wrote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
But that said, just because the thought of someone isn’t clear and present, it doesn’t mean that their influence is far removed. Sometimes it’s quite the contrary.
Al Frank was a great teacher, coach and person. He was pragmatic and determined; stubborn yet disciplined; hard working and challenging; demanding yet appreciative.
And when you spend so much time with someone your exposure to them can help shape your thoughts. It’s akin to hearing yourself say something to your kids that your father said to you years ago.
You stop, take pause and reflect and in a quiet moment, express appreciation. You are glad that the person came along because through their example, they helped mold your own character.
Death forces you to reflect and to seek meaning.
That happened to me today.
And I wasn’t alone.
After the funeral, a dear high school friend who I clearly don’t spend enough time with, shared his feelings about Al Frank with me and a few other friends:
As I stood over Mr. Frank’s casket yesterday afternoon, I realized what an HONOR and PRIVILEGE it was to have played for him for three years. I know you don’t think that way as a snot-nosed teenager, but thirty some odd years later, and maybe because maturity tells you so, you realize what a great coach and mentor he truly was for us.
We were prepared, we were focused, we were grounded, we were rehearsed, we were disciplined and regimented, we were respectful in an odd way………yeah, we were good, but he was a great leader of our group of young, talented, free spirited men!
I found myself sobbing at the fact that he was gone.
Who would have thought back then that I would weep at his death?
I guess that is the selfish approach to death and dying!
Thank you David Schroeder.
The funeral was an opportunity to bring men together – brothers bonded in many ways by one man. Tim Norris shared stories that many of us knew by heart. Coach Patry described pranks that we suspected all those years ago.
We laughed.
We cried.
We felt fortunate.
If you were lucky enough to have spent time with Albert Frank well, you were lucky enough.
Rest in peace coach.
