Two Stories About Steve Carey
I eulogized my teacher and mentor Steve Carey in December. His wife Lee told two stories that day. I want to share them here, because they belong to more than just that chapel.
The first is from his Tabor years. Steve had just arrived at a faculty meeting. A list of students was handed out — the ones who needed attention, needed intervention, needed something. Standard mid-year business.
Before the discussion could begin, a colleague took the floor. He spoke warmly about his other students — the bright ones, the engaged ones, the ones who practically taught themselves. He clearly meant it as a kind of relief, a counterweight to the weight of the list in front of them.
Steve stepped into the pause that followed.
“I’d love to hear about those kids sometime. Do you think you could work up a list of them? Because right now, all I have is the list of students who need us the most — who need us to be the very best teachers we can possibly be.”
Nobody said much after that.
The second story is about basketball. Steve was coaching the school team in a summer league. Their rising captain had missed the first few games — returned for game four looking tan and rested. Steve said nice to see you and sat him down. Kept him there through the first quarter. The captain’s agitation was visible. When Steve finally put him in, the kid ran up and down the floor until he was completely gassed — signaling to come out. Steve kept him in until the half.
After the game, the captain’s parents came down from the bleachers. They did not hesitate. Disrespect. Their son. How could he.
Steve waited for the father to take a breath, then said, “Can I ask what you do for work?”
“I’m an anesthesiologist.”
“Ah,” said Steve. “I’ve never done that.”
One pause.
“Thanks for coming out. Next game is Wednesday. Hope to see you in the stands.”
There is a line from the Tao Te Ching that I keep returning to:
What is a good man but a bad man’s teacher? What is a bad man but a good man’s job?
Steve knew this in his bones. The student on the list. The captain who needed a lesson more than playing time. He never separated teaching from accountability, or compassion from consequence.
I was lucky enough to learn that from him — even, in the end, by listening to his wife tell stories in a chapel full of people who loved him.
— Pete
Notes arrive on Sundays and some Wednesdays
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About me, and Practice Notes → here
About Integrative Coaching → here
About my book, The Why of Sports → here
