This was John’s first time around his friends since they had found out he had cancer, and some were uncomfortable talking to him. It was a disease kids didn’t understand. It was hard for them to face their friend. Scott recalled, “He knew they didn’t know what to say. At this time John was feeling his friends thought cancer was contagious.”
A year later, John told Scott and Gina he had to get ready for football training camp. He told them that he couldn’t miss it. At first Gina wasn’t thrilled about John going to camp again. “I thought it wasn’t the place for my sick son to be,” she said. But then she realized it was in John’s best interests to be part of the team. “I learned real fast that sports and keeping busy was the best thing for him. He wanted to live, and so if he was going to live any length of time, he had to be a part of things and feel good about himself.”
The other aspect of football camp that soothed her worry was that it only lasted three days, and John would be at the high school, two minutes away from their house. Scott cleared everything first before he and Gina gave John the okay to attend. “I talked to the coach and he said he didn’t have a problem with it, so we took up the air mattress, sleeping bag, fans, and everything else you take to football camp,” he remembered.
Lynn Lehocky, Pam Helch, and Beth Herzog were Scott and Gina’s inside spies. Lynn, Pam, and Beth were football mothers who were there at six in the morning, getting ready for the morning breakfast. Scott or Gina would call them to check on John each morning and again in the evening, when the women were cooking dinner for the team. “It was important to John to belong with the rest of his team. That was his second family,” Scott said.
In late October, his football coaches asked John to speak to the team before a game. Shawn Lehocky, John’s good friend and football teammate, said, “John gave us insight to his fight and his personal beliefs in that speech. He talked about his will to succeed and how we sometimes put too much emphasis on the little things in life that are more of a burden than a problem. He also explicitly stated that you will never know when your last play will come, or even further, when your last day will be, and until that time, play and live every moment like it is your last.”
As to the speech’s impact, Shawn recalled, “To hear this speech from someone that has suffered through pain and bad news for many months really made you feel that whatever issues you were facing personally were so microscopic in the scope of life. This made our team focus and understand that we need to rally around our emotional leader and truly self-reflect as to the meaning of living a fulfilling life.”
The speech left a huge impression on not only the team, but the coaches as well, many leaving the locker room with tears running down their faces.
While John’s off-the-field contribution to the team was tremendous, his yearning was to suit up and play with his teammates again. The third week of October was when John told his mom and dad that he had to play football one more time. Scott recalled the conversation and his first reaction: “I told him, ‘John, you’ll get killed out there.’ I’ll never forget the look, with his arms out, and the sound of his voice when he said, ‘Dad, I’m dying. What else can happen to me?’ ”
Scott told John that he would make it happen. He met with the team’s coach, J. C. Summers, and asked him if he could do something for John. He wrote a letter stating that the school district would not be held responsible for anything if John got hurt. The game was to be an exhibition game that they played at the end of the season on November 1, 2007 against Hickory High School.
However, Gina and Scott had other plans. Lexie had been picked for cheerleading all-stars, and there was a banquet for her the same night John was playing. At the banquet, Gina and Scott kept in touch with their good friend Karen Roman, who kept them informed on what was happening at the football field. At the first opportunity, as Scott remembered, Lexie said, “Let’s go watch Johnny.”
In the second quarter, John ran onto the field and the crowd erupted. But a moment later their cheers went silent after Freedom snapped the ball; John had fallen and no one was around him. But then just as quickly as he had fallen, he got right back up.
Gina, Lexie, and Scott got to the field and were able to see John get in the game twice more. The first time, John kicked off the ball, and right after, seven teammates surrounded him to protect him; the three others tackled the Hickory player with the ball. The final time, in the fourth quarter, John got in as a slotback on offense. The play went to the right side, and he was on the left side of the field. Freedom’s running back started up the right side, but then he cut back to the left side, heading right for John. The play was just about over, and John went up to one of the Hickory players and blocked him. Scott later learned that Coach Summers had set up the play so that wherever it went, John would be on the other side of the field, far from the action.
After the game, as the Freedom team filed into the locker room, John looked around the room and began to tear up. He said, “Thanks [coaches and teammates] for letting me dress and play in our last game as a senior class. It felt good to finally feel like a part of this team again and . . . it gives me more of a reason to believe that I can do anything, regardless of my health.”
It was a night no one would ever forget. “We were all pretty emotional,” Mike Tibolet recalled. “We realized how happy he was to have been able to step on that field with us for the last time as a team. That speech truly inspired me because it showed that no matter what, anything is possible if you put your mind to it.”
The next week, John turned his experiences playing in his final game into a fiction piece for a class assignment. Titled “The Great Return,” it was about Freedom star running back Jake Woodley, severely injured in a car crash. Doctors told him he would never play football again, but Jake decided that he would overcome the odds and take the field once more. Every day Jake worked hard to move his legs from his wheelchair, but nothing seemed to get them working. One day his friend Keith Stedman came over and talked about a guy he knew who had cancer, whose doctors and coaches told him he would never play football again. Then during the last game of the year, this guy ran out onto the field with his team and got into three plays. He was so happy he could prove everyone wrong. Keith told Jake that this guy never gave up on his dream, and he shouldn’t either. This story made Jake realize there was still hope. So when Jake worked out he thought about the guy with cancer and used him for inspiration.
“The Great Return” by John Challis
Jake worked out harder and harder, he prayed and thanked God for helping him first be able to stand and then start walking. Even though Jake had to use a cane, he was starting to believe that he would play football again, the game he loves so much, one last time. As the team’s season started, Jake would run at the school’s track at night so no one could see him as he struggled to get his coordination back. He ran sprints and worked out on the ropes but time was running out. There was only one game left in the season and Jake had to convince his doctor to let him play in the game. After an extensive physical his doctor gave him the OK and Jake snuck into the locker room while everyone was at practice and got his equipment and jersey and ran back to his care so no one noticed.
As game day arrived Jake walked into the locker room with his equipment, there was complete silence. The team was speechless; Jake gave the coach his release and said he was ready to play. When the team got in the tunnel to run onto the field, his coach asked him to lead them out. The crowd cheered loudly as Jake’s name was announced. Through three quarters Jake just stood on the sideline and he was nervous that the coach wouldn’t put him in the game. Jake told him he was ready and he also said “don’t do this to me; I worked too hard to not get in this game.” With two minutes and thirty-three seconds to go in the game Jake got the call. The crowd was screaming and yelling. The play was a half back option on the right side and the linebacker hit Jake at the line of scrimmage. Jake laid there and it was complete silence. His best friend, Bobby Macand
o, the center, came over and out his hand out and Jake grabbed it and jumped up. The crowd started to cheer with relief. The next play was a pass play, Jake didn’t really care if he got the ball, and he just wanted to be there. As he walked off the field at the end of the game, he told his coach that he completed what he started and thanked him for the opportunity to play just one more time. At the gate after the game, Jake was shocked to see his friend Keith Stedman standing there with some guy. As Jake approached Keith he knew the guy he was with was the guy who had cancer. The one who inspired him to quit feeling sorry for himself and made him realize no one was going to make him walk again except himself.
PART 4
RELIGION: JOHN’S FAITH AND SPIRITUALITY
John spoke about his religious beliefs and spirituality in a very forthright and honest manner in many of the interviews he did. The first instance was in the article Bill Allmann penned for the Beaver County Times on August 20, 2006:
“I’m down to 100 pounds and all I am is skin, bones, and muscle so when I get shots, they hurt. . . . I’m closer to God now, too, I know that’s my only way out of this. It bothers me that I’m not able to do things for myself, too.
“My back starts to hurt when I’m sitting on the golf cart. But when it does, I reach for this chain (a gold chain holding a cross around his neck). The chain was my grandfather’s and when the pain gets bad, I hold it and it gets me through. . . . Sometimes I have to hold it a lot and sometimes I fall asleep holding it.”
When John said, “I’m closer to God now, too, I know that’s my only way out of this,” it reminded me of when I was thirteen and felt the only way I could get through things was with God’s help. Up to that point, I was not a very religious person, but like many people who find themselves in difficult situations, I suddenly found religion. In John’s case, though, his Roman Catholic faith was something that had been with him from a young age.
Gina and Scott told me, “We raised our kids Catholic, and John, he always prayed when he was growing up. So when he spoke of his relationship with God in interviews, his faith had always been there.” When speaking of the cross that John wore and that Bill Allmann wrote about in his story, Scott remembered how when John came home from the hospital after the first chemo treatment, each night Scott would wake up around three in the morning and look in on him. John was always lying backward on his bed, his grandfather’s gold cross in his hand, and was looking straight up at the ceiling. “That always bothered me,” said Scott. “He seemed he was in a world by himself, all alone.”
John’s good friend Taylor Dettore spoke to me about John’s faith. “He and I would talk about life and death,” she said. “I remember us always texting each other when one of us was more sick or struggling to keep it up and keep fighting. We would mention that we needed each other to get through this and that we were both going to make it through and be miracles. John and I were both so sure that we were going to make it. He and I would also get frustrated that we both lost our athletic ability. We missed playing sports so bad. John had mentioned to me that he was afraid of dying, as did I back to him. But then I would tell him my favorite Bible verse of all time: ‘Have no fear in bad news, your heart is steadfast trusting in the Lord’ (Ps. 112:7). He mentioned about leaving his family behind and that he had a responsibility to watch over his sister. He told me that I need to stay close with her and help her when needed. I felt like I was a part of his family, and I would do anything for them.”
When John wasn’t able to make it to school, Joe Signore (Gina’s boss and the director of the Beaver County Domestic Relations office) visited him on his lunch hour; often they would take drives around the area. As Joe related to me, those drives were very special to both him and John. “We didn’t have to talk about anything, and on most occasions, I could see he was content to look around at the sights, almost always in a reflecting mode. He’d ask a quick question and I gave a quick answer, and back we both went to just enjoying each other’s company. Thinking back, these little rides to nowhere carried quality time together. I had an Our Daily Bread pamphlet in my car (which is a pamphlet that gives a spiritual message each day of the month). John picked this up and read the day’s message one day. It was on courage. . . . I was able, by the grace of God, to answer some tough questions, answers that actually put a smile on his face. I remember laughing with him at this time as I made a few wisecracks that he ‘ain’t beating me to heaven. I get to go first.’ That more or less became an inside joke to us, and it led to him trusting in my faith (not taking away from the faith he or his family had at that time) and . . . feeling better about what he may put his family through in the future. I believe he simply needed reassurance. He had faith for sure, and he began to describe these rides as ‘church in the truck.’ ”
In May 2008, on one of their drives, John was more quiet than usual. When Joe asked what was wrong, John began to cry. “I’m losing this fight,” he said. They stopped along the river at Big Rock Park in New Brighton and sat on a bench, pulling themselves together with scripture, parables, and accomplishments.
Then John asked for two favors, Joe said: “Number one: at my funeral, please do something special for my family. They don’t deserve this.”
Joe told him it wasn’t fair to assume he was getting into heaven before he did, and John replied, “I’m going to win that race, Joe.”
Joe remembered, “He told me to please acknowledge their hardship with him and to ‘bring them up front of the church. I don’t care if there’s only ten people at my funeral . . . bring them up front!’ I asked, ‘Then what?’ And he said, ‘They probably won’t be able to talk, so that’s up to you!’ I told him, ‘Only if you bring my kids and wife up front at mine,’ and he said, ‘Deal.’
“Now I’m thinking if that’s number one, I’m afraid to ask about number two. But without a chance to ask, John said, ‘And for my second favor, pour a bottle of Corona on my grave on my twenty-first birthday. It always looks refreshing when you drink it.’ ”
PART 5
SELFLESS ACTS AND THE CHALLIS EFFECT
John’s ability to touch and inspire complete strangers was something special, and the outpouring soon became a two-way street. One example of this happened in the spring of 2007, when Scott picked up the golf cart and wheelchair from a local resident for John to use.
After John got the cart, he started using it right away; he really loved it because he had his freedom again. What he wasn’t thrilled with was the wheelchair. “Dad, get rid of the wheelchair. I don’t need it. I have cancer—I’m not disabled,” he said. He told Scott to give it to someone who needed it. “Make sure you don’t sell it; a man gave it to me, so I want to give it to someone who needs it,” John said.
A short time after this conversation, a friend told Scott that John’s Little League baseball coach’s father had just lost his legs due to diabetes. Scott made the arrangements, and the wheelchair found a new home. Looking back, Scott said, that was a turning point for John and their family. “That was one time I noticed John changing. We as a family were seeing the good of people of all walks of life, and it was rubbing off on him.”
A few months earlier, Joe Signore had organized a very special event at Gina’s work, the Beaver County Domestic Relations office. As John walked into the courthouse, the hallways and stairs leading to the second floor were lined with balloons—and the courthouse employees. This line led to the foyer upstairs, where Joe presented him, on behalf of all of the courthouse employees, with close to $3,000 in one-dollar bills; Joe had organized a collection. John was speechless at this outpouring of love and support.
As the event went on, everyone in attendance let him know he was in their prayers. Joe remembered the significance of the event: “I truly believe the support shown at this early stage actually launched his strength and his family’s trust that this was going to be okay. The purpose deep down in all of us, however, was to simply bless him and enable the family to do something special together in
the event the inevitable was near. It turned out he blessed us.”
That October, John attended a Larry the Cable Guy live show at the Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh. Larry the Cable Guy always made John smile, so Scott contacted a local businessman, who was able to secure tickets and backstage passes for John, Scott, Gina, and John’s friend Dallas Betz. Before the show, John and Scott went backstage to meet Larry, and as they waited, Larry told the community relations person to put John at the end of the line. Larry went through forty-nine other people in his meet and greet before meeting John. They spoke, just the two of them, for almost half an hour. On his way out, Larry shouted out to John to come back. He took off his gold fishhook he had in the visor of his hat and put it on John’s hat.
Meeting Larry made a huge impression on John, according to Scott: “John always said, of all the people he had met, Larry the Cable Guy was one of his favorites. He wasn’t in a hurry and he was so down to earth.”
In typical John fashion, he made sure that he took care of the people closest to him that night as well. A few days before the show, John told his assistant principal, Dan Lentz, that he had a ticket. Dan told him how happy he was that John was going to meet Larry the Cable Guy, who, like Dan, was a huge Nebraska Cornhuskers fan. The day after the show, John went into Dan’s office and told him how funny Larry was and how nice he had been when they met. He also had something to pass along to Dan—his ticket, signed by Larry: “To Dan, Go Big Red, All the best, Larry the Cable Guy.”
Dan said, “That was the quintessential Johnny. Riddled with cancer, he was still thinking of someone else. That ticket, along with a picture of Johnny and I together at one of his fundraisers, is in an eight-by-ten-inch frame in my office to this day. And it always will be.”
John met Lena Holewski at Freedom’s first baseball game of the 2007 season. John came over to the fence where she was standing along the Bulldogs’ dugout. There was a boy on deck to bat when John looked over and asked what she was doing. Lena told him that Coach Rich was her father. They started talking about school and sports, and Lena remembered his crooked smile at the end of the game, and how he said to her, “Well, it was very nice meeting you, and I hope to see you around.” He did not tell her he had cancer.
I Was Picked Page 4