Random Access

Sports is the toy department of life, as former Globe and Mail sports columnist Dick Beddoes used to regularly remark.
Inevitably, however, real life intervenes.
It did so cruelly this week when news came that the son of Tony Dungy, the classy coach of the Indianapolis Colts, had died suddenly at age 18.
Dungy is different than most NFL coaches. He doesn’t yell at players or berate them for mistakes. He is stoic on the sidelines, rarely betraying any emotion if his team is doing poorly and rarely celebrating wildly when they do well.
His young sons were often on the sidelines with his team. In truth, he had a team full of sons. The players who play for him obviously respect him greatly as a person, something that’s not easy in the adversarial mire of professional sports.
If the measure of a man is the esteem in which he is held by those who work with him and who know him well, then Tony Dungy is someone special.
Mike Alstott, the veteran fullback who played for Dungy in Tampa Bay where he forged a team that won a Super Bowl, said of James Dungy, “He grew up around here. We loved Coach and his family and everything he did for this organization and this community. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. It’s a tough deal. There’s no words to describe it. I’m a father of three and I can’t imagine getting a phone call or being told that.”
The loss of a child is burden enough, but it appears that James Dungy may have taken his own life.
One can only imagine the torment that the Dungys must be going through, trying to explain the inexplicable.
One’s heart goes out to them, knowing that there can be no comfort.
Despite the tragedy thrust upon him, I know one thing: though his heart is as heavy as it has ever been, Tony Dungy will handle this with the same dignity that characterizes his every other action.
He is a man of strong faith and he will need every ounce of it to carry on.
There are no words to pacify this pain.