The best kind of friend ...
I loved Steve - deeply - and feel so blessed to have had him as a mentor, friend, and advocate. We first met over Zoom during the chaos of 2020, and I was immediately in awe of not only his intellect but his warmth, charisma, and authentic connection to the true spirit of sport-based youth development. From there, we spoke frequently, and he provided incredible advice as I was launching my consulting business and non-profit. In a world where it can be tough to trust people, he was someone who made it easy to believe in inherent goodness.
When we met for the first time a few months later, we spent an hour talking in his office, sharing life stories. Surrounded by photos from events, awards, and mementos, I got the feeling that he was singularly unimpressed by the accolades and more keen on sharing stories of his family - Suzanne, Claudine, and Cris - and those who were part of his inner circle. Andre, Steffi, Michael Mina, Alana Beard ... he would do anything to champion them and their philanthropic passions, seeking nothing in return.
He understood how close I was to my father, and when my father passed away in early 2021, Steve was not only one of the first people I told, but he was also one of the few people I trusted with the overwhelming emotions and feelings of loss I was experiencing. He reminded me so much of my dad (my hero), and I often told him that having him in my life made it feel like a piece of my dad was still in the world.
Later that year, when my mother was moving to LV and I was having difficulty navigating paperwork related to the move, he connected me with his attorney, banker, and realtor. Without his guidance, I'm not sure we would have been able to help her move. When she was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer 18 months later, he provided names and made introductions to doctors. Coincidentally, they ended up in the same chemo infusion center. When she took a turn for the worse, he led us to the best possible hospice center. Again, he sought nothing in return.
But when he was sick, he would disappear, not wanting to burden anyone with his pain. I know I am not alone in saying I would have done anything to ease his pain and to be there for him as he had been there for me. That wasn't what he wanted, however, and I knew when he would go dark for a bit that he was likely navigating another health scare, bad news about his illness, or a diagnosis that eliminated hope for recovery.
The last time I saw him in person, I was delivering his Athletes' Voices Turn Up the Mic Award. He became emotional and (of course) kept saying it was "too much" and "not necessary." But it was. And he deserved that and so much more.
Without Steve, we have all lost a bit of light. But in the spirit of Steve, may we all find ways to pause, really listen, and take a moment to help someone in need without any expectations of a return. He was the embodiment of the phrase Tikkun Olam, making the world a better place. When my mother passed away, he shared these words: "I’m so sorry to hear that. The pain has disappeared from your mother but it is transferred to the living family. You need to stay strong and wrap your heart around the times you spent together….lessons learned; shared love…remember and embrace the greatness of your relationship.❤️🙏❤️." We are his living family and we ache for the hole left by his absence in the physical world. As I texted him a few months ago, "I still can never explain why … but I need you in my life. I feel stronger knowing you are in my corner."
May his memory be a blessing, and may all of those who knew him be comforted by the goodness that he brought to our lives. Rest in peace, my dear friend.
