If you’re not living to make a difference, you’re wasting your life.
In the exhaustive aftermath of our recent effort in planning an event to benefit The Make-A-Wish Foundation, I learned of the death of Pat Tillman. If you haven’t heard of Pat Tillman, he was a very talented, hard-nosed football player for the Arizona Cardinals who turned down a 3.8 million dollar contract to instead join the Army as a Ranger shortly after 9-11.
At the time, his decision bewildered the media and much of the public. How could he give up so much and risk it all so easily? Ironically, these were not questions posed by his friends, family, and his new bride. They knew Pat. He was killed in Afghanistan fighting for America and defending freedom.
I was listening to a sports talk show after I heard the news. A businessman wrote to the host to confess his shortcomings and share a change that had occurred in him. He described how he felt as he sat in his comfortable office in his soft chair holding his fat weekly paycheck. The sacrifice of Pat Tillman bubbled up a feeling of condemnation for his own life. He hated his job, and the only reason he did it was for the money. The money was good. Right there in his office, he decided to change. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he was damn sure going to figure it out.
Pat Tillman had inspired him to become a better person.
As I drove down the road, I myself was stunned and overwhelmed by Pat’s story. He was born in 1976 – same as me. I was proud of what we accomplished for Make-A-Wish, but even that seemed insignificant compared to the impact Tillman made.
But then I realized that we both shared a similar creed: If you’re not living to make a difference, you’re wasting your life. The point of life, when it comes right down to it, is to make a difference, not make money. The time and effort I put in may not be as great, and it surely won’t make national headlines, but my desire to make a stand and make a difference in the world is the same.
We fell short of our financial goal for the event, but we did raise over $6,000, enough to cover the special wish of one special child. In the grand scheme of things, it may not seem like much, but to that one kid, engaged in the fight of his life, it makes a world of difference.
You’re right, Jason, about making a difference. Your comments remind me of that e-mail that makes the rounds where a child is on the beach where there’re hundreds of starfish washed up on the shore and he’s methodically throwing them back in. The child is questioned by an adult as he tosses one in the ocean, as to the wisdom of the action when there are so many more than he can ever get to, and “How can it matter?” The child replies, “It mattered to that one.”
I’m with Jason. As another young man born in 1976, I heard the story of Pat Tillman and the same thought crossed my mind. That could have easily been someone I knew as a kid, graduated from school with, or even been my best friend who has served his time in the military. While I’ve never felt the calling to join the service, I stand fast by the idea that I would defend my family, home, and country with my last breath. I’ll gladly take my hat off to anyone who has the courage to take up a gun and fight thousands of miles way to ensure that freedom is safe, and that fight never comes to my front door. My favorite part of the story is how Pat didn’t to any interviews, and didn’t want any special treatment because he was a professional athlete. I’m sure he wouldn’t want the attention he’s receiving after his death, always believing he was no different than the solider fighting right next to him who wasn’t a pro football player.
But maybe that will still serve him best. Pat Tillman was a defensive player for the lowly Arizona Cardinals. Until the day he enlisted, I had never heard of him, and even if he had gone on to be a pro bowl player, chances are five years after his retirement even the most diehard football fan would have had a tough time remembering who number 40 for Arizona was. So while all the reports I’ve seen and read about, with the exception of this one, have been on ESPN or other sports media, Pat Tillman will most likely not be remember as an athlete. He will be remembered as a hero, who died defending his country.
I have another quick example. In 1992, I was watching the summer Olympics when the 400 meter dash came on. It started like any other sprint, runners in the starting blocks, firing of the starters’ gun. But just after the start, something terrible happened. 100 yards in, one of the racers fell to the ground in agony. The cameras stayed with the race as it finished, and then went back to the fallen racer. He was struggling to get to his feet, waving off anyone who tried to help him. Barely able to walk, he continued around the track until suddenly one man pushed past security and supported the runner under the arm. The two continued around the track until just feet before the finish line, were the man who had come to his aid released the runner, and he hobbled across the finish line. This event is burn into my memory, and I hope I never forgot it. I remember very little else about the year 1992, but I’ll never forget Derek Redmond, the man who show us no matter how hard it may be, you need to finish what you start. The other part of this story is the man who helped him. You see, it doesn’t matter if it’s the Olympic’s, and it’s televised live around the globe with millions watching, when your son needs help no one had better dare stand in your way. I hope I have the courage Jim Redmond had that day to leap from the stands to help his son if my child needs me.
I’m not sure if Derek ever ran another race. That wasn’t the point. For those ten minutes Derek Redmond may have been a sprinter, but for the rest of my life he’ll be remember by me as a who would let nothing get in the way of his dreams. Just as I hope Pat Tillman isn’t remember as a football player, but just as a man who gave his life for his country.