Debbie said a boy that she used to teach called her. He said he would sing at my dad's funeral. His name did sound familiar but was a common name, so I didn't think much about it. We sit in the front pew, the microphone is set up, and it is time. This young man steps up and begins to sing the sweetest and most beautiful rendition of Ave Maria that my ears have ever witnessed. It was intense, it was soft, his voice... angellic. He is amazing. My thoughts of my father have evaporated and we are in his world for a few, beautiful, heavenly, minutes.
I did know this boy's father. His father was an essential part of my childhood. He was a teacher, a teacher I never had. He was a coach, but never coached me. He coached volleyball at Watertown, I played volleyball for Carthage. I hate to toot my own horn, but, at 4 foot 11, I was a great volleyball player. I didn't know my potential, I just knew my passion. I had an intense love for volleyball because it was a sport that I excelled at. On the court, I was needed, I was a contributor, I was strong. In the ninth grade, we had a match against Watertown. It was junior varsity, I played hard. During game, my mantra was to do anything and everything to make the unimaginable happen, go the extra step, get the balls that others wouldn't even try for. I never had fear, I threw myself in front of anything and made things happen. After the game, I was sitting on the floor watching Varsity, drinking my water, and the coach from Watertown came over and went out of his way to tell me how well I played. I acted nonchalant and thanked him, but inside it validated something for me.
Now what I am telling you here is this... I, by default, was lacking something that I relied on others to provide to me. I did not believe in myself. I could sing, but I didn't believe in myself enough to do it. I could play this sport, but still lacked the confidence that assured me that I wouldn't fail. I always looked forward to the Watertown matches because I knew that he was there, and he believed in me and it made me believe in me.
As a Senior I was chosen to play on the all-star team. The schools each contributed two players to be on two teams that would compete against each other. The Watertown coach was the coach for my all-star team. The match ends at 15 points, but our team had to win by two, so if it was 14-14, the game would have to go to 16 for a win. We are playing our 5th match, the tie breaker. It is 11-14, our team is down. I am on the sidelines and the coach is putting me in, he winks, I can barely contain myself. I'm like Mike Tyson before a fight, i'm pumped, hopping from foot to foot. I go in, it's my serve. First serve...ace. 12-14, second, third, fourth, it is now 15-14, we are up. I serve one more...ace. We win.
I want to tell the coach how much he taught me. I want to tell him that a short conversation between us 4 years earlier kept me going so many times when I felt like nothing. I want to tell him...he is responsible for so much more than he would ever know...but I don't. I say nothing.
He is Mark Taylor. His son, also Mark Taylor. I could not imagine having a dad like that. It is no surprise that his son is so amazing. It has been three years since my father's funeral and tonight I get to witness that voice of angel once again. A beautiful rendition of "The Phantom of the Opera", he sings, I cry. I cannot wait to see where this person goes in his life, the possibilities are endless.
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