Bob Ellal

What does playing sports have to do with a fight against cancer? For me, it was everything. I played high school football and was a pretty good player. Unfortunately, I wasn’t big enough to play lineman in college. So I had to let it go after my senior season.

But in many ways it shaped my life—and gave me a lifelong discipline for keeping in shape—and sticking with things. My junior year. My coach, Don Minski, wasn’t sure if I had the guns to start varsity offensive tackle. I thought I was a shoo-in; but one of the senior linemen tipped me off that the coach was considering moving him to the position I wanted.

Double sessions—practice for hours a day, twice a day, in the August heat. A player’s performance during this time was an indicator for the coach. Did the player have the sand to start?

When I was “tipped off” by this senior lineman at the start of double sessions, I decided to pull out all the stops. I attacked each session of practice relentlessly. I took on the biggest defensive lineman, practicing the techniques I’d learned in junior varsity—hit a man low and never stop driving your feet until you moved him out of the “hole”—off the line. Keep your head on the side of the defender and drive him away from where the running back would be. I wanted to start very badly, and I drove myself to the point of exhaustion at every session. Then I did it again, every session, all week.

At the end of the week we had a meeting. The coach announced the starting lineup. I was sick with anticipation. When he got to starting “weak side tackle” he announced my name. Then he singled me out and said “Bob Ellal is the most improved player on this team.” I’ve never felt so proud of any accomplishment in my life.

The seniors on the team turned around and looked at me with gleams in their eyes. I knew what I was in for. The next practice they gave me “the business.” They came at me relentlessly to see how “improved” I was. I passed the test, although I was beaten up and bloody by the end of practice.

The following year I played strong side tackle and nose tackle on defense, and a couple of special teams. Coach Minski prepared us—and me—for this by conducting hard, physical practices always culminating in running “hills” relentlessly or ten 100-yard sprints. The conditioning came in handy in the fourth quarter, when physically exhausted by playing both ways, one had to summon strength from unknown places to press on.

Anyone who has played any sport—football, soccer, basketball, or baseball—knows what I mean.

This practice of summoning up energy, despite exhaustion, helped me survive the agony of bone cancer and the debilitating sickness of high-dose chemotherapy administered during my two bone marrow transplants.

It also helped me to stick with the daily discipline of Standing Post meditation (see article ‘Standing Post meditation’)—pushing through pain, and pushing myself beyond where I thought I could go.

Thanks, Coach.