From the Coliseum to Coach Raveling

Week one was wall-to-wall football—until a text changed everything.

Week one of college football has come and gone.

For me, there were no airplanes this time, and it was welcomed. I spent the day with my kids, alongside my wife, before heading to call a game at the historic Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

The scene was breathtaking. The sunset draped over the stadium, the Hollywood sign glowing in the distance, and the pure joy of working next to people I admire--people who’ve poured themselves into this craft of celebrating the game and coaching the viewer.

Meanwhile, all across the country, football took over. From Thursday’s first kickoffs into Friday night lights, through a marathon Saturday, into Sunday, and capped on Monday in North Carolina—it was wall-to-wall. If you tried to watch it all, your head was on a swivel.

On Tuesday morning, as I sat down to write my weekly column here at Y-Option, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my dear friend Jeff Fellenzer, a professor at USC and, in my opinion, the most talented teacher in academia.

The message was short, but it shook me: “An incredibly sad day, brother.” Attached was a screen grab the news heard round the world–George Raveling had passed away.

My first thought: too soon.
My second: I wish I had one more chance to see him.
My third: thank God I got to spend time with him at all.

Jeff has a way of connecting people. He’s introduced countless young broadcasters and athletes to icons, as well as icons to icons. He brought Pete Carroll to John Wooden and thousands of students to sit a few feet from competitive legends like Jerry West, Bill Walton, Sam Cunningham, Al Michaels, Scott Boras and many more into his classrooms. A few years ago, he invited me to sit 36 inches from Coach Rav. We would meet for breakfast at George’s favorite spot in Marina del Rey.

I walked in eager to meet a trailblazer. You see, Coach Rav was not just one of the great coaches, he was a civil rights leader, a pioneer in sports who told it like it was but in each instance in his life, or so I would imagine, was also always teaching.

I walked out with so much more that I could have ever anticipated. George didn’t just meet you, he poured into you. I left that morning carrying books, articles, pamphlets, and wisdom I didn’t even know how to ask for.

Over the following moths and years, we would email. And I would tell myself that I’d properly follow up.

Call him. Invite him on the podcast. Keep the conversation going in a meaningful manner.

I never did. And that stings.

But it also leaves me with a truth: if we don’t pour into others–whether they’re younger, older, or right beside us–we miss the moment.

College football, like life, is full of noise. We argue over play-calling, debate which coach prepares the most, or whether a team wins by enough. Fans yell at the screen, at the scoreboard, sometimes at each other. Social media is full of vitriol, only teaching us that the louder we get the possibility of having a voice grows. Yet, once the games end and drama subsides we know that is so far from the truth.

George Raveling never wasted time on that. He poured into people. Into the game. Into culture. Into life.

I had a long list of players and performances from week one that I wanted to write about. I’ll get to that this coming Sunday, while flying back from State College, which is a place that shaped me as a high school kid dreaming of playing big-time football.

yogiroth

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But today, the reminder is simple: wherever we are, whoever we encounter, can we leave them better than before? Can our presence, even for a moment, lift the environment around us?

That was George Raveling. Every single interaction with him left you better.

Much love, stay steady and enjoy week 2.

Peace,

Yogi