I can envision a day back in 1971 when Craig Colston was an 11-year-old kid playing wiffle ball all summer, backyard football all fall, and then scraping ice off the driveway to play basketball in the winter.
When he wasn’t playing, he was watching his beloved Lebanon Warriors, with legendary coaches like Jim Van DeGrift and Ron Holtrey, and dreaming of the day when it would be his turn under the Friday Night Lights.
He soaked it all in. Craig established his identity there.
It was then that Craig learned how to handle difficult situations, whether it was getting hurt or falling behind in a game. He had a choice -- to quit or play harder, to give up or persevere.
And in Craig’s heart there was only one response, the one that would become his mantra for the rest of his life: “Let’s go. Let’s beat this. I am a Warrior.”
When he wasn’t playing, he was watching his beloved Lebanon Warriors, with legendary coaches like Jim Van DeGrift and Ron Holtrey, and dreaming of the day when it would be his turn under the Friday Night Lights.
He soaked it all in. Craig established his identity there.
It was then that Craig learned how to handle difficult situations, whether it was getting hurt or falling behind in a game. He had a choice -- to quit or play harder, to give up or persevere.
And in Craig’s heart there was only one response, the one that would become his mantra for the rest of his life: “Let’s go. Let’s beat this. I am a Warrior.”
CRAIG WAS a betting man, a keen player with the horses, so he knew the odds of beating cancer were never terribly good. But true to his Warrior spirit, Craig fought back.
He was told he had stage IV cancer more than two years ago, and was told he might have only four months to live.
The doctor did not hold out much hope.
Craig’s response was rather blunt. “Okay, you’re fired.” It was not in Craig’s vocabulary to simply step aside and let the opposition win.
He found doctors who shared his competitive spirit. In short order, his condition improved.
I spoke with him at a Springboro basketball tournament game a couple of years ago. Craig did not shy away from talking about his battle. At one point he joked with my wife Kim, “I’m too mean to die.” That is, he was up the challenge that lay ahead.
As we were leaving, he turned to a pastor whose church we both attended. “I’ll be there at 9:30 tomorrow morning, Charlie,” he said with a grin. “You can count on it. I show up every Sunday so I can tell the devil to kiss my ass.”
That belongs in the Bible somewhere, doesn’t it? The Gospel according to Craig.
He was told he had stage IV cancer more than two years ago, and was told he might have only four months to live.
The doctor did not hold out much hope.
Craig’s response was rather blunt. “Okay, you’re fired.” It was not in Craig’s vocabulary to simply step aside and let the opposition win.
He found doctors who shared his competitive spirit. In short order, his condition improved.
I spoke with him at a Springboro basketball tournament game a couple of years ago. Craig did not shy away from talking about his battle. At one point he joked with my wife Kim, “I’m too mean to die.” That is, he was up the challenge that lay ahead.
As we were leaving, he turned to a pastor whose church we both attended. “I’ll be there at 9:30 tomorrow morning, Charlie,” he said with a grin. “You can count on it. I show up every Sunday so I can tell the devil to kiss my ass.”
That belongs in the Bible somewhere, doesn’t it? The Gospel according to Craig.
I WAS IN THE parking lot at Ohio Stadium Saturday morning, waiting to move my daughter into her dorm, when I first saw the Facebook posts that Craig had passed away. He couldn't battle the aggressive cancer cells any longer.
The Shoe was perhaps Craig’s ultimate sanctuary, home of his beloved Ohio State Buckeyes. Craig’s spirit touched many corners of our world – first as a Warrior, then in the business world, then as president of the Springboro Board of Education, and always in the hearts of his family and friends.
And while he tolerated the Bengals and the Reds (his obituary aptly says he loved them only when they were winning), he loved his Buckeyes.
I couldn’t help but find it rather symbolic that I was at the stadium right at that particular moment.
I immediately though about his parents, Don and Talitha, and his brother Kevin, and his son, Zach, all of whom Craig loved so much. And then I remembered a moment involving his wife Shay, who he absolutely adored.
There was a day many years ago when I met with both of them about some business deals. Shay had to leave early. When she shut the door behind her, Craig looked at me and grinned.
“I married way up, didn’t I?”
“Oh yeah,” I joked. “Way more than you deserve.” Craig liked that.
I could hear him whispering in the gentle breeze at Ohio Stadium, “Stick around, Kirb. We’ve got Michigan State tonight. You know, I’ve always wanted to play quarterback here.”
Go Bucks.
The Shoe was perhaps Craig’s ultimate sanctuary, home of his beloved Ohio State Buckeyes. Craig’s spirit touched many corners of our world – first as a Warrior, then in the business world, then as president of the Springboro Board of Education, and always in the hearts of his family and friends.
And while he tolerated the Bengals and the Reds (his obituary aptly says he loved them only when they were winning), he loved his Buckeyes.
I couldn’t help but find it rather symbolic that I was at the stadium right at that particular moment.
I immediately though about his parents, Don and Talitha, and his brother Kevin, and his son, Zach, all of whom Craig loved so much. And then I remembered a moment involving his wife Shay, who he absolutely adored.
There was a day many years ago when I met with both of them about some business deals. Shay had to leave early. When she shut the door behind her, Craig looked at me and grinned.
“I married way up, didn’t I?”
“Oh yeah,” I joked. “Way more than you deserve.” Craig liked that.
I could hear him whispering in the gentle breeze at Ohio Stadium, “Stick around, Kirb. We’ve got Michigan State tonight. You know, I’ve always wanted to play quarterback here.”
Go Bucks.
THE TRIBUTES came pouring in all throughout the day. If you ask me, it’s moments like this that make Facebook and Twitter such marvelous tools. Just like the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, we all can experience a cause together, and we need that togetherness.
As Kim and I drove home, I started thinking about Craig again and the impact his life had on so many people.
He guided Springboro schools through a very difficult transition period. He helped so many families with their wealth management and estate planning. There are teammates who will forever remember his leadership. And his family will forever hold his memory in their hearts.
Along about mile marker 78 (Craig graduated from Lebanon in 1978), a song came on Columbus station Sunny 95.
Music very often speaks spiritual truths to me, thus providing me an assurance that there is life beyond this one.
The song was from 1984, sung by Patty Smyth and the rock group Scandal.
Do I even have to say anything else?
The song’s title is, “I Am The Warrior.”
I kid you not.
I took it as the ultimate tribute from Craig, that while there is sadness in his absence and his passing, he is good now – free, healthy, and ultimately victorious over the Evil One.
I can hear Craig now. “Kiss it, pal. See? I still won.”
As Kim and I drove home, I started thinking about Craig again and the impact his life had on so many people.
He guided Springboro schools through a very difficult transition period. He helped so many families with their wealth management and estate planning. There are teammates who will forever remember his leadership. And his family will forever hold his memory in their hearts.
Along about mile marker 78 (Craig graduated from Lebanon in 1978), a song came on Columbus station Sunny 95.
Music very often speaks spiritual truths to me, thus providing me an assurance that there is life beyond this one.
The song was from 1984, sung by Patty Smyth and the rock group Scandal.
Do I even have to say anything else?
The song’s title is, “I Am The Warrior.”
I kid you not.
I took it as the ultimate tribute from Craig, that while there is sadness in his absence and his passing, he is good now – free, healthy, and ultimately victorious over the Evil One.
I can hear Craig now. “Kiss it, pal. See? I still won.”