Thursday, December 24, 2015

Finding light in dark times, and the meaning of Christmas

By Ryan Maloney, assistant women's volleyball coach


Former Tennessee women's basketball coach Pat Summitt, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in 2011

It's obvious, or should be obvious, that coaching is primarily about human development. It's less obvious what "human development" means.

Victor Frankl, the Austrian psychiatrist and Nazi prisoner during the Holocaust, might have come closest to the answer in his often-repeated quote from his book Man's Search for Meaning:
"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."
Developing the ability to choose one's attitude, particularly in difficult times, was Pat Summitt's life work. The women's basketball coach at Tennessee for 38 years, she was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease in 2011. It was a devastating blow to a woman used to producing national championships on a semi-regular basis. After the diagnoses, she wrote a book to get her last thoughts down on paper: Sum it Up, 1,098 Victories, a Couple of Irrelevant Losses, and a Life in Perspective.


In the book's final scene, as her disease is progressing, Summitt undergoes a series of tests with her doctor to judge her emotional stability:
"Last came a series of questions about my emotional state. These are the questions that test my attitude. I'm told that apathy, depression, and a sense of worthlessness can go with Alzheimer's. I've had my moments with all those - what person with the diagnosis wouldn't? But as of this writing, I've always found my way through the dark and back into the light.
"Are you satisfied with life?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel a drop in interest?"
"No."
"Do you often get bored?" 
"No." 
"Are you in good spirits most of the time?" 
"Yes." 
"Are you afraid something bad is going to happen?" 
"No." 
"Do you worry about the future?" 
"No." 
"Do you feel you have more problems than most people?" 
"No." 
"Do you get downhearted or blue?" 
"No." 
"Do you worry a lot about the past?" 
"No." 
"Do you get upset over little things?" 
"No." 
"Do you feel your situation is helpless?" 
"No."
I don't feel helpless, and I don't feel hopeless. Why? Because the truth is, nothing is certain with Alzheimer's, and everything is possible."
Maybe it's because my father died on Christmas Day in 2010, or maybe it's the short days, or maybe it's because I've always been more fearful of death than most, but Christmas has always had an aura of darkness for me.

Far be it from me to define the meaning of Christmas, but Summitt's example helps me remember that the darkness, with effort, can be embraced.

Merry Christmas.