When describing a sporting event, it is often nearly impossible to put pen to paper without the use of terms like “battling,” “fight to the last minute,” "comeback," etc.

Those same things apply to life, this I now see more clearly than ever before.

For so many people, life is like a basketball game with two seconds remaining and a potential game-winning shot on the way to the rim.

It goes in, the crowd (at least the home folks) cheer. It falls short and the gym feels like a giant balloon in the act of deflating.

If you are lucky, you bounce back from the deflation and move on. If you are really lucky, you learn from the heart breaking experience and restock your determination cupboards.

Some things in my life in the last few years have made these observations into truths.

I have always considered myself a big, strong, tough guy. Never been shy about returning a punch or defending myself.

But as of late, I’ve learned there is a kind of toughness in almost all of us, much of it seemingly living in a parallel universe accessible only by some last second galactic wormhole that connects to energy we did not know existed.

I spent most of my life working in large hospital emergency rooms as a radiology guy...X-rays, CT scans, MRIs, even breaking up kidney stones with a shockwave machine or laser.

Not much that was inserted into the lineup against me rattled me or stayed me from the goal of getting a proper medical image.

I’ve always been perhaps too competitive in my life. Finishing second, I was once told, means you are just the first loser.

Win at all costs. Leave it all out on the court or field.

But ever since I was mowing my lawn a little over three years ago and realized after one lap around the yard, my chest was pounding and I was having trouble breathing, things have changed.

In the true spirit of competitive drive, I sat on the porch steps for a few minutes then finished cutting the grass.

It was all part of the sports-induced way of thinking.

And it almost cost me my life.

This past week, I traveled to Community Hospital in Missoula for a procedure to electrify and burn out a renegade nerve in my heart that was causing a thing called “A-fib”, basically an elevated and dangerous escalation of my heart rate.

The procedure was hopefully the last major step in a process that included a quadruple coronary artery by-pass in 2021, and about a month ago, a pacemaker implant to get my heart rate back in this stratosphere.

This big, tough guy was doing his best not to show fear, anxiety or any other basic human emotion that all too often gets associated with human frailty.

I’m sitting here this morning writing these words for a couple reasons.

To urge anyone experiencing chest pain, shortness of breath or feelings of exhaustion to do the brave thing and get checked out by a medical professional.

The pacemaker has my heart beating at a still high, but livable 90 beats per minute. A couple more visits to the Billings Clinic Heart and Vascular facility and, God willing, a few adjustments to the pacemaker and I should be at a mellow 60 beats a minute.

I felt compelled to share this because I know there are sports-minded individuals and many others who want to be tough, not show weakness.

But you know what throwing in the towel gets beside the end of the wrestling match?

Not just match over. It can also produce a chance to wrestle again.

For me, it has been an eye-opening experience.

I retired several years ago, but let the competitive nature I was raised in push me to keep working as hard as I can. I doubt I will every totally lose that drive. Two weeks after “retiring” from radiology, I found myself counting ceiling tiles for the umpteenth time.

I embarked on an effort to cover sports in Sanders and Mineral counties like no one else has ever done.

It seriously bothers me to think I missed a story, spelled a name wrong or did not get to more games than I already do.

Along the way, friends and family have been very supportive, as have the great group of co-workers I’ve been fortunate enough to work with.

I could never do what I set out to do without the thoughts and prayers so many have expressed as I faced this life challenge.

And I know there are many, many more people out there who face challenges far greater than mine. I have relied on my faith to open my eyes.

With help from the many coaches and school staffs who help me with statistics, especially concerning the games I can’t be at in person, and the awesome parents and students who have sent photos my way to go with game stories, thank you from bottom of my heart. This so-called “wordsmith” cannot produce the proper words of thanks.

I will continue to do my best, and I know I can’t cover it all, because of my admiration for you sports fans and residents of my beloved Montana.

Thank you seems inadequate.