As a Roman Catholic for my entire life of over 47 years, I have seen many
techniques used to make a point from the pulpit. Never, however, have I
seen a football -- make that two footballs -- spiked as an exclamation point
to a sermon during Mass.

Not until Saturday in New Orleans.

Saturday was not the conclusion to a routine week in
the life of a Division I athletic director, or for that matter a "routine
week" for anyone else associated with the NSU athletic program, be they a
student-athlete, coach, staff member, or fan. This was a week which started
with the sudden and tragic death of NSU offensive lineman Chris Waddell, at
the young age of 18, who collapsed during a light conditioning drill at
Turpin Stadium and died shortly thereafter at the hospital, and concluded
Saturday with his funeral in the gymnasium of his alma mater, Holy Cross
High School in New Orleans.

Chris was a walk-on freshman who was redshirted this year by NSU Coach
Scott Stoker. We were supposed to have four more years to get to know this
6-1, 293 pound young man better, both as a person and as an offensive
lineman who during his senior year in high school made All-State after he blocked for a 2,500 yard passer and for a 1,000 yard rusher.

It should, however, come as no surprise
that Chris was instrumental in paving the way for such a balanced attack
because that is the way he lived his life. Football was important - his
Mother, Celeste, told the NSU football team the afternoon after he passed
away that he "died doing what he loved to do -- play football." Yet, he was
also a solid student who understood well his mother's message -- "keep your grades up and you keep playing football." NSU assistant track coach Mike Heimerman, who coached
Chris as a shot putter, said Chris brought a lighter side to daily workouts.
His athletic director at Holy Cross, who announced that Chris' number 68 would
be permanently retired, talked about how the freshman they referred to as
"Big Soft" transformed into a leader over the course of four years.

During his sermon at the funeral, Father Tony Ricard talked about how Chris
grew up in an environment in which there was plenty of opportunity to do
wrong, but he chose the right path. Kiddingly, Father Ricard looked at Mrs.
Waddell and said, "He did get that tatoo....you've got to get past that,
Mom!" and went on to add, "OK, he was right 99.9 percent of the time." During a
touching moment at the start of the funeral, Mrs. Waddell placing a
bible, rosary, and cross on Chris' casket was a most telling testimony about
the way he lived his life.

Before last Monday, when I heard about the deaths of student-athletes at other schools, I
have to admit that I had always felt blessed that it hadn't happened here
and at the same time, I wondered how it would all play out if NSU were to
lose a student-athlete. I know so many of our student-athletes, and their
families, on a personal basis and had thought about how difficult it would
be to go through something so tragic with them. Ironically, I did not know
Chris Waddell very well and only met his mother when she arrived at
Natchitoches Parish Hospital shortly after midnight last Monday after he had died five
hours earlier. I should point out that it is no more tragic when this
happens to a student on campus than when it happens to an athlete. There
are family members and friends searching for answers in either case. It is
natural, though, that the death of an athlete receives more exposure. On
one hand, that can be more burdensome to all involved. On the other hand,
it can provide so many lessons and provide so much insight that otherwise
may not have manifested itself. And it is up to each of us, in our own way,
to master that lesson and be perceptive to that insight.

For me, those "lessons" and that "insight" came in many forms over the past
several days.

Unquestionably, Celeste Waddell became, and will remain, one of the most
amazing individuals I have met and will ever meet. From the moment she
stepped out of her brother Paul's vehicle early Tuesday morning at the
hospital, approached several NSU representatives (FCA Director Gerald Long,
trainer Ed Evans, coaches Scott Stoker, Brad Laird, and Mark Peters, and
me) who were waiting in tense anticipation of her arrival, and in a God-like
way literally and figuratively spread her arms out and told us that Chris
died doing what he loved to do and that he loved being at NSU ... to calling
NSU during the week to see how WE were doing ... to blowing a kiss at the NSU
football players prior to the funeral Mass and later telling them to "eat
up" at the post-funeral meal ... there are not words to describe her strength
and faith. She helped pull all of us through this and it is supposed to be
the other way around.

Oh, don't think that she did not mourn because she
did and she will continue to. This was her only son, a son she raised
alone. She talked Monday night at the hospital about Chris being mad that
the refrigerator was empty when he went home for Mardi Gras break. That
empty refrigerator now pales in comparison to the emptiness she has in her
heart. Please keep Celeste in your prayers and take a moment to send her a note of condolence on the button on the main page of this website.

Throughout the week, the level of support from the NSU campus community and
beyond was uplifting. E-mails, phone calls, and kind words from friends,
boosters, faculty members, peers in college and even professional athletics,
and many others helped ease the burden for me and for those within the NSU
football program. I told one television station that I could literally feel
the prayers, caring, and concern on campus Tuesday when we were all still
trying to come to grips with what had happened less than 24 hours earlier.

There was Chris' close friend, Zeke, who was a pall bearer at the funeral
and wore Chris' letter jacket during the funeral. Zeke and Chris were high
school teammates who spent a great deal of time at each other's houses.
They spent more time at Chris' house because they liked Celeste's cooking so
much. Zeke's Mom said she ultimately had Celeste teach her how to cook some
of that "New Orleans style food" so she could see a little more of her son.
Chris is black, Zeke is white. That should never matter and did not matter
in this case. It is sad to say but there is still a lesson to be learned
here for some.

As for the NSU football program, there is not enough space to talk about the
impact Chris' death has had on the players and coaches. It started with
them being on the field when Chris collapsed, watching frantic live-saving efforts
by the NSU training staff and EMT personnel. Then they arrived -- all of them -- at
the hospital, only to receive the devastating news that they had lost a teammate.
The next day, they sat in shock as the mother of their fallen teammate told
them it was "OK to cry" and that "you are going to be all right." By
Wednesday they began spring practice which had originally been scheduled for
Tuesday. Coach Stoker felt it was important to bring some normalcy to their
lives and playing football represented a familiar step in that direction. I
truly admired NSU's coaching staff, whose hearts were so heavy, but inspired by Celeste's strength as they went above and beyond to conduct a spirited practice.

As for the NSU coaches, never has it been more apparent that they do not just recruit
players to come to NSU based on playing ability -- they develop a personal
connection with these young men. They sit in the homes of players, talking
to parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, neighbors and friends, and tell
them that they will be sure that their son gets and education and that they
will take care of him. If you stop and think about that for a minute, you
may slightly understand the sense of obligation transformed into a sense of
grief that has been felt throughout the NSU coaching staff, and no doubt the
greatest impact has been on Coach Stoker.

Chris Waddell was at NSU because a coach from Holy Cross, an old friend, called Scott and wanted Chris to play for him. On
his 35th birthday Saturday, Scott stood up in front of the crowd of well
over 1,000 who attended the service and spoke about Chris. He said he did
not write a speech because every time he tried, it did not seem good enough.
He talked about how the Waddell family, and, in particular, Celeste's
family, has touched the lives of so many at NSU. He talked about how he was
going to miss Chris. Then, he stepped off of the stage and embraced Celeste
Waddell.

By now, you're probably wondering about those "spiked footballs," aren't
you? As Father Ricard concluded his sermon, he talked about how Chris, as
an offensive lineman, must surely have dreamed about crossing the goal line
like the quarterbacks, running backs, and those "prissy wide receivers," as he
called them, do so often. While Chris never had that opportunity as a
football player, Father Ricard pointed to the casket and proclaimed that
because of the way Chris lived his life, he had indeed scored a "touchdown"
spiritually "a few days ago" and asked everyone to "give the brother a
hand." As the congregation erupted into cheers and applause, Father
Ricard, who had been holding a football throughout his sermon, grabbed
another ball, handed it to Celeste, and together they spiked the balls in
triumph.

Sadly, I can't change the fact that Chris Waddell is gone. What I, and so
many others who have been touched by the events of this past week, can
change, however, is the way we look at life and the way we live our lives.
We have been blessed to have had Chris Waddell in our lives and to have
developed such a close relationship with his family this past week.

It is now up to each of us to re-focus, look for the goal line, and one day,
like Chris, score that "ultimate touchdown."