He Made a Difference

During my years in the corporate world, I had an opportunity to work with people from all over the country. And when the company hosted regional or national sales meetings, even incentive trips that included spouses, it represented an opportunity to get to know your remote colleagues on a personal level. Soon we became friends.

Invariably, conversation would include our respective backgrounds – where you live; where you grew up; where you went to school. “School” for most of my colleagues meant, “where did you go to college?” For those of us from Baltimore, and usually it was just yours truly, “school”, meant high school.

Many of you know that I’m a graduate of Archbishop Curley and this past weekend the Curley brotherhood lost a cornerstone, a legend in the school’s history, Dan Popera. Coach Popera left a nice accounting position with McCormick & Co. and took a healthy pay cut to join the Curley faculty in 1974. After 38 years of service to the school, Dan retired in 2012. He was a business teacher, varsity basketball coach from 1974 to 1999 and a great Curley ambassador. In 1996 he was Curley’s teacher of the Year and a member of the school’s Athletic Hall of Fame.

Dan had an insatiable passion for sports, was a HUGE Ravens fan and just an all-around terrific guy. He is survived by his wife Kate and daughters Beth and Karen – an awesome family, a host of great friends and of course, countless students upon which he left an indelible mark.

Whenever you’d see Dan, he wore a big Cheshire cat grin, like he knew something that you didn’t. He was always inquisitive and upbeat and had a unique way of making you feel special because his immediate interest was YOU – what were you up to and how were you doing. Coach Popera was gifted in the way he made you feel, like you spent time together just the day before despite the many months, sometimes years that actually separated you.

My earliest memories of Coach Pop go back to my days at Most Precious Blood and the youth basketball programs that the elementary school hosted. Dan was a referee and possessed such a commanding, authoritative presence. He was tall, strong, athletic, confident and walked with a swagger. He was stern but fair; uncompromising but willing to listen.

When I moved on from MPB to Curley our paths crossed again. We even crossed paths at times on our respective walks to school, up Sinclair Lane. His gait was fast, determined and purposeful – part of his daily mission to impact young lives.

My initial observations of Dan from my MPB days remained, only now as I entered the realm of high school, they were further accentuated. As teenagers in our most formative years, more was demanded of us; more was expected and Dan was there to provide a stern but sincere guiding hand.

It takes a special person to be a coach. It takes a special person to be a teacher. To be both is an entirely different level of special and Dan not only relished the opportunity, he thrived in it. To be that guy was in his DNA. To be that guy, he and his family made personal sacrifices in order to make a difference in the lives of young men.

“A hundred years from now, it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, how much money I had in the bank. But the world may be a better place because I made a difference in the life of a child.” ~ Forest Witcraft

Coach Popera’s lessons were not just about sports; they weren’t just about academics. Dan’s lessons were life lessons. The basketball court and the classroom were simply platforms to help shape one’s character; to help prepare you for life’s challenging journey. And while it’s happening, you aren’t even aware that the foundation of your core values are being molded. Out of respect to the alluring figure of authority, you simply go with the flow because you respect him and willingly follow his lead. Coach Popera was a quintessential leader.

During my junior year at Curley, I tried out for the varsity basketball team. A couple dozen students did the same. The group was eventually paired down to 13. Coach Popera planned to keep just 12 players. I had a rather productive camp and I really thought that I had the team made. During that last practice prior to final cutdown day, I had my A-game going and felt supremely confident that I would be a member of the varsity squad. After that final cutdown practice, one of the assistants entered the locker room, walked towards me and said, “Coach Popera wants to see you in his office.”

Suddenly, I was in the grips of a sick feeling. My stomach was in knots. I knew what was coming.

As I entered Coach Pop’s office my suspicions were immediately confirmed. All of the sweat, the diving for loose balls, the 100% plus effort every single practice was not to be rewarded. I could tell from Dan’s body language. As he shared his rationale for cutting me, I watched his lips move and as much as I tried to absorb the message, I heard very little. I could only stare into his eyes – eyes that told a story of regret.

After gathering my things in the uncomfortable atmosphere of that locker room, I left in a surreal state and walked home, devastated. I wanted to hate Dan but I just couldn’t. I respected him too much. That should tell you something about the man. When a 15-year-old kid can have his life ruined (or so it seemed at the time) by a man, yet still hold him in high regard, it tells a story.

Years later during high school reunions, as men, I would tease Dan about his decision to cut me, while we conversed about the Ravens and about life. He even conceded that I should have made that team. Perhaps he was just humoring me.

Maybe my failure represented an opportunity to learn – and maybe that failure has helped my life in other ways. I know this, having Dan Popera in my life certainly made it better. And as I sit here, typing away on the keyboard, the somber thought hits me that our next reunion this November, won’t include him. No more reminiscing. No more talks about the Ravens. No more teasing about cutdown day.

I would so love to hear what he’d have to say about Lamar Jackson.

But today isn’t about regrets. It isn’t about being sad over what will never be again. Instead, today is about a smile – a smile like Dan’s. And I’ll smile because it happened – that Dan, a Curley cornerstone, helped shape my life and the lives of so many of my Curley brothers. His legacy lives on in each of us.

Make a difference in the life of a child?

What if you make a difference in the lives of an entire student body?

That is the story of Daniel Joseph Popera.

Thank you Coach. Your memory will echo in eternity in the hallowed halls of Archbishop Curley.

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On March 7, 2023 I sat down with Curley brothers Bob Dillon, Bob Jones and Mario Scilipoti to discuss the impact that Dan Popera made on their lives. For those who knew Dan, this podcast will more than likely remind you of your own experiences with this great man.