A tribute to a good man, a friend

Dude, I’m tellin’ ya……..

Usually I would espouse on the last episode of Survivor that aired on Thursday night, but I wanted to celebrate someone special that deserves mentioning. On Friday afternoon, I got together with some of the boys from the fantasy baseball league that I play in. We had some beers and made several toasts. Many toasts.

See, it was the one year anniversary of the death of one of our buddies. His name was Frank Cahoj. I always called him Frankie. He was a great guy who played in the league with us for years. But he was a lot more than that, of course.

Actually, the exact one year anniversary was on Thursday. But we couldn’t get together then because the league commish, his wife, and his daughter were going to be together that day to visit Frank and support each other. They were closer to him than any of us. Much closer. So the fellas in the baseball league agreed instead to meet on Friday to remember him.

Frank was only 24. I met him thru our league commissioner. The commish is actually a really good friend of mine that I worked with for years at my last job. He’s a mentor of mine. His young daughter, fresh off graduation from Virginia Tech, met Frank and they started dating. It turns out that Frank loved baseball as much as we do and was passionate about the Cubs. So the commish and I smelled fresh meat for our baseball league. Frank was excited to join us and was in our little club until the day he passed away.

Along the way, over some seasons, he and the commish’s daughter became engaged. He proposed to her in front of the Magic Kingdom in Disneyland, which is a favorite destination for the family. Then all of the planning and excitement dominated their lives from then-on. I probably met up with the commish, Frank, and his fiance (and often others in our league) 15-20 times over the years to talk baseball and chug a few coldies. Talked to him on the phone about trades. Partied together at the draft every March.

He loved cool music and was a guitar player. He would often do open mic nights at bars and pubs. Like myself, he had a brother and a million friends. Which was not surprising for him because he had such a peaceful nature about him. {For me, it’s a mystery why I have a lot of friends. Not Frankie.} He doted on his girlfriend. They would often huddle together and share some laughs while the rest of us were engaged in some senseless baseball argument or another.

Frank had a dog named Gibson. He named him after his favorite line of guitars. The commish and family adopted Gibson after Frank died. And to hear them talk about the dog’s antics and personality, you can see the joy they get from the animal all over their faces. Perhaps you could say it was one of Frank’s last gifts to them. A daily remembrance of his energy and happy disposition.

I always felt a sort of deeper connection to Frank after one night in December 2007. I had to go to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy one Saturday night. They had just brought me to my room around 11:30 pm after surgery. I was still doped up and mostly out of it when they pulled the seperation sheet to divide the room. Another patient was taking the other bed. He had some strong abdominal pain just as I had.  He received a bunch of tests and apparently his wife or girlfriend was with him.

Long story, short…..as I’m sure you’ve deduced already……it was Frank with his fiance. I mean, the chances of this were off the charts. I hadn’t been to a doctor or hospital in a good ten years. After three days of severe pain, I finally relented and allowed my brother to take me to Alexian Brothers hospital in Elk Grove Village, IL. Within a few hours, I am having surgery. And then admitted to one of the hundreds of rooms they have at this huge medical facility.

And within two hours, they bring Frank in to the same room with the same symptoms. There but for the grace of God (go I).

By morning when I had cleared my head a bit and gotten a few hours sleep, we determined (because the sheet had been seperating us) that it was the two of us friends. However that morning, Frank’s tests came back with signs of cancer. He was to be admitted indetermintly. The commish and his wife came in to support Frank and their daughter. And thru their own grief and concern for their future son-in-law and their little girl, they still took the time to actually visit with me too and lift me up a bit.

That’s the sort of people this family is and the type of guy Frank was to win their daughter over.

I was released that afternoon. Frank’s ordeal was just beginning. On the way out, I stopped by him while the rest of the family was out of the room. We shook hands and I tried to offer him some fighting encouragement. He squeezed my hand in a good handshake and shook his head “yes”. I always felt that little extra connection sfter that. And fight this kid did. He was a friggin’ warrior. For the next eleven months, he and the family did everything they could to kick that thing’s ass. This kid had some sort of strength. A hero’s strength.

But he died November 12, 2008. Less than one year after the night in the hospital. The commish—-who is a mountain of a man at about 6’4 and 285 lbs——-came in to work and told me the news. Then he had to excuse himself. I never saw a pained look like that on his face and I never want to see it again. I had to take a walk myself rather than sniffle in front of the office.

The fantasy baseball league is now called the Frank Cahoj Memorial League. We just finished our best season playing under that banner.

And here’s one more toast to Frankie for the week. It’s been a long year without you around, buddy. We missed you this season. It was a good one, too. You’d have loved the race we had until the final 4 or 5 days. But we’ll feel you at the draft in March. Believe me, we know you’re there—-laughing at the jackass picks some people make. And no one makes a pick until we’ve toasted our missing player.

RIP, Frankie.