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Baseball legend Jackie Robinson once said, "a life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives."
When I heard about the recent passing of NBA star Bill Walton, that quote came to mind.
Although a gifted athlete, Walton struggled with health issues. Yet, while doing so he remained an NBA standout.
Despite facing 36 surgeries and chronic health challenges, Walton frequently asserted he was "the luckiest guy in the world."
So many athletes are recognized for their competitive achievements, but sometimes those we remember most do things that transcend athletic performance.
Through the Challenged Athletes Foundation, Walton inspired injured athletes to participate in sports instead of giving up on life after facing serious physical injuries.
Some of those Walton counseled say his encouragement helped them in a very big way.
Locally, when the Saint Francis basketball team headed to the west coast, Walton spoke to the athletes and inspired them with his unique optimism. He also surprised them with his knowledge of Red Flash basketball history.
Shortly after that, Walton was tapped to speak at the Blair County Hall of Fame, something I am certain he looked forward to. But as cancer ravaged his body, he was forced to withdraw, with tragic news of his passing soon to follow.
Years before this tragedy, Walton phoned his college coach, the legendary John Wooden, twice a week, checking in on his long-time mentor's well-being.
The calls must have been mutually beneficial. After all, Walton learned much from Wooden, and he became a better person as a result.
A few weeks ago, a fellow guest columnist wrote about his 1974 little league manager, Dick Taylor, citing his profound coaching influence. As I read this wonderful column, it prompted me to think about some of the coaches who shaped my own life.
I was fortunate to have two, Rick Trimble and Jack LeClair. Trimble, a charismatic history teacher, introduced ice hockey to my New Jersey high school. He invited undisciplined pond hockey players like me to compete against teams with years of organized hockey experience. When the season started, we were probably the league's worst team.
However, through hard work, relentless conditioning, disciplined position play, and a commitment to improvement, we began to win games.
When we could not get ice time, we practiced shooting pucks against the school's brick wall, ran parking lot wind-sprints and sat through chalkboard sessions emphasizing strategy and position play.
We barely qualified for the playoffs, then beat the most talented team by three goals. One game later we won the championship as one of the most unlikely underdogs ever.
For almost 50 years, our team picture was in a display case at the local sports bar, just blocks away from our high school. When I returned for a recent visit, I was disappointed that our team photo was gone, replaced by NHL memorabilia.
Still, that reminded me of another coach, Jack LeClair. He hoisted the NHL's Stanley Cup with the Montreal Canadiens in the 1950s. LeClair's summer clinics were tough, but he got us in top physical shape. He even arranged a few informal scrimmages with NHL players.
This let us know our shortcomings, but they were fun. If not for LeClair, I might not have been able to compete at the collegiate level.
Not all coaches transform people's lives, but the most gifted ones do. The people we remember most in sports are not only those who impress us with amazing athletic performances.
Instead, they are often the remarkable people who teach us lessons that inspire us to do much more impressive things that transcend sports.
Bob Trumpbour is an assistant professor of communications at Penn State Altoona. He authored the book, "The New Cathedrals, politics and media in the history of stadium construction." He has also worked on a freelance basis with CBS, NBC and Westwood One for more than 30 years.