Remember to Thank a Soldier

It was the summer of 1999, and I went to see my friend Terry coach his first football game of his career. I wish I could say that he did a good job, but Terry was a little nervous and the team was very inexperienced. Me, and my infinite wisdom, asked if he needed any help. I had flexible schedule at the time and I became the new volunteer assistant coach for the Avonworth Jr. High football team. This was the first time I met a kid by the name of Pat Kenny.

Pat was a funny kid, big for his age, and had a knack for getting under a coach's skin. He would ask me questions like, "Hey coach, how come you never beat coach Grantz in college?" or "Hey coach, why did you wear tight pants in the 80s?" Not hey what's my assignment on a particular play, because he knew what he was doing on every snap of every down he ever played. He was our center and our middle linebacker and ran our defensive huddle. Pat was a natural leader for that defense, even though he was a little out of shape.

Pat moved up to the varsity squad and I only saw him practice and play here and there. I was the Jr. High coach and I had my guys to work with and I had to scout, while Pat played his games so I rarely made it to see him play. And in the spring of 2003, after too many losing seasons, we as a coaching staff, were asked to leave. So I completely missed Pat's senior year.

Two years pass and I am walking into a Steeler game, and I am heading for the beer vendor (of course), and I hear someone say "Hey Coach!" I let it slide, there are a lot of football fans there and I figured the place is full of people that would go by coach. Plus, when I coached, I was bad cop, so my players were unlikely to say hi to me in public. So then I hear "Coach Beau!", that got my attention, I stop dead in my tracks and look around for the voice who recognized me. There stood before me, was a man, no longer a kid, with a shaved head, wearing a Maries T-Shirt, and built like a tank. I actually took a step back at first, because I didn't recognized him, and I thought he was going to slug me . . . until I saw a very familiar smile. A smile I used to see through a face mask so many times before, it was just a lot higher up than I remember, Pat was about 6'1".

"You joined the Marines!?", were the first words out of my mouth. As if it were a shock to me, when it wasn't. I knew that Pat was destined for great things, just not this soon. I was actually proud to have a servicemen approach me and want to talk with me. Pat and I chatted a little before we headed to our seats and before we said our good-byes, I made sure I grabbed him firmly by the hand shaking it and said, "Thank you". That is something I make sure I do to every serviceman I meet, because it is their ass on the line to save mine.

Lance Cpl. Patrick Kenny was killed in a roadside bombing in Iraq. At this point please forgive my typing because I can barely see my keyboard from the tears that are steaming down my face. I got the phone call from my friend Brian, I was lying down and I had just dozed off, and my cell phone rang. I was still in a little daze when he told me, "Do you remember a kid we used to coach by the name of Pat Kenny?" . . . I knew what had happened, before he could tell me. Brian's brother is a Green Beret, and I am sure it was very difficult him to deliver this news.

I wish this was a happy story that I was writing to you this week, but I need to let you all know that a man sacrificed his life for mine this week. A man, who I lost touch with, never forgot to protect me. A man died defending my county, my flag, and my freedom, reminding me that Freedom is not Free. That is why I will always thank a soldier.

Thank You Lance Cpl. Kenny