(May 16, 2002) — Mike Fennell died early Wednesday morning at age 42 after an 18-month struggle with inoperable non-smoker's lung cancer.

Let me rephrase that.

Mike Fennell's body died.

His spirit didn't.

It will live on in all of us who were privileged to have known him.

For as long as we draw a breath, we will remember Mike's self-deprecating sense of humor, his strapping presence, his deep religious faith and his unbridled passion for his family and for the game that helped define him -- the game of baseball.

Throughout his ordeal, Mike often used baseball metaphors. The highly successful McQuaid Jesuit High School coach talked about how when you get into a slump, you have to spend even more time in the batting cage in order to work things out. He talked about fouling pitches off until you found one to your liking. He talked about playing hard until the final out, no matter how big the deficit.

Mike not only talked about those things. He lived them, right until the end.

As was the case when he was a broad-shouldered, hard-nosed catcher for Fairport High, Le Moyne College and several New York Yankees farm clubs, Mike refused to give in to adversity. He refused to treat his cancer as a death sentence. As tough as it was for him and his loved ones, the final inning of his life may have been his finest.

In my profession, we constantly misuse the word courage. We cheapen it by talking about courageous catches and courageous hits and so forth. If you want to know the true meaning of the word, talk to the doctors and nurses who treated Mike the past year and a half.

"He wasn't supposed to live six months with the type of cancer he had," said Dr. Louis Antignano, a physician friend of Mike's. "He showed us not only that he could live with cancer, but thrive with it. Mike just had this fire about him. He was staring death in the face and he spit in its eye. That fire burned in him right till the end. Mike caused us in the medical profession to rethink the odds of terminally ill patients. Mike showed all of us that you can defy terrific odds."

While dying, he taught us how to live. The lesson was not lost on the young men fortunate enough to have played ball for him. They rallied around him. They learned things more valuable than how to throw a curveball or hit behind the runner. They learned about perseverance. They learned about how your attitude can affect your altitude. They learned about the power of faith and the importance of togetherness.

Though wobbly from chemotherapy, Mike showed up in uniform for the Section V title game last May at Frontier Field. His mere presence there that sunny, spring day inspired his players. Displaying shaved heads in support of Coach Mike, whose noggin had been rendered bald by chemo, the Knights beat a very good Irondequoit team for the championship. When it was time to go to home plate to accept the trophy, Mike refused to use his walker. Instead, he hooked the arms of players and coaches and took one of the most memorable trips I've witnessed in a quarter century of covering sports.

His upbeat attitude in the face of death inspired others. Often, in the past 18 months, Mike attempted to convey to other cancer patients the importance of staying positive. Back in January, before Mike was to receive the Maj. Donald Holleder Courage Award from the Rochester Press-Radio Club, Dave Lanning talked about the numerous times Mike spoke to people who were in the same boat.

"I'm astounded at the way Mike put his plight aside to help others," said Lanning, the former Fairport coach who accompanied Mike to all his treatments. "I believe he sees that as an additional incentive to battle on. Helping others get through this gives him strength, a sense of purpose."

Jackie Robinson, the courageous trailblazer who helped break baseball's color barrier and integrate not only a sport but a nation, once said that a life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.

Mike's life proved extremely important. His impact was far-reaching. As one of the Catholic priests of my youth told me after my father passed away: "When good people die, their goodness does not perish."

Mike Fennell's goodness did not perish Wednesday. It will extend well into the future. It will live on in the lives of others.