Column for Sports Journalism Class

November 4, 2004; 4:45 PM. Michael Etzkorn had thoughts of marriage, school, and soccer all running through his head. His focus was not on how happy his fiancé made him, or getting his degree, or even on how to win more games in his fourth season as head coach at McCutcheon, but rather on how all of those would be affected by his diagnosis of testicular cancer.
“I was scared,” Etzkorn said. “I had just gotten engaged to Michelle, my wife, and I knew that I had had the cancer for a while”
Etzkorn was right. His cancer had reached stage three, the final and most deadly stage. He was in shock and didn’t know what to do. The news left me, a sophomore in high school at the time, and the rest of the soccer team in disbelief. None of us knew how to react to the news.
“I could do nothing,” Brian Howard, a fellow sophomore at the time, recalled. “And I felt useless.”
We all felt useless. This man, although only in his mid twenties at the time, was a father figure to many of us, me especially. I’ll never forget the tears I shed walking away from the room in which Etzkorn had revealed his condition. Some stayed to talk to Mike, but most of us left not knowing what to say.
Etzkorn, himself, was having many problems coping with his cancer, as one might understand. “Sometimes I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn’t. Many coaches talk about do or die situations, and this was quite literally do or die. It was hard to keep positive, but by keeping everyone informed on my condition by email and getting positive feedback from everyone, I was able to persevere.”
Although Etzkorn reached out to all of us, players and parents alike, we all kept our distance. Most of us did not know what to say to him. It was probably for the best. Etzkorn recalls it was a “weird time” and that “having people not talking to [him] wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
The thing that kept him going was something that he calls “the best gift [he’s] ever received.” Some members from his team, including his soon-to-be step-son, senior Jerum Markley, shaved their heads to let Mike know that they were fighting cancer with him. Markley, Howard, Brandon and Brooks Griswold, Nathaniel Chitty, Sean Fitzsimons, Tony Starks and I all took part in this.
An article in the Journal and Courier followed, but that wasn’t what Etzkorn cared about. “The picture that was taken, Jerum gave to me as a Christmas present. The article was after the fact. The present was very touching. That's a big thing for a high school kid to give up his hair. It very much made me proud to know that you guys would go that road. The article itself wasn't that big of a deal. I was more just proud that it happened.”
From that point on Etzkorn fought for life while we trained for the following season not knowing what was going to happen or who was going to coach us. Michael Starks, the assistant coach for the two years I had been at McCutcheon, took over and coached through the first half of the season before we finally received the news that Etzkorn would be back on the field for arguably the biggest game of the season. It was the Harrison game, our rival.
We were ecstatic. “I was very excited that he was back,” fellow sophomore at the time, Kyle Schaffer, remembered. “And it gave me a chance to prove to him that I was working hard even though he worked ten times harder fighting for his life. I felt the team was finally complete.”
Etzkorn was able to come back after having lengthy chemotherapy and some surgeries. He was finally in remission. One of the surgeries, however, cost him his booming voice. When removing a tumor from his chest was removed, his vocal chords were damaged, and made his voice weak. As a result, he had to use a megaphone during games and practices to make sure he was heard. He wasn’t the same coach, but some Etzkorn was better than no Etzkorn.
Although our play was inspired, it was very sloppy, and we dropped the game 8-1. Mike was back, though, and we couldn’t have been happier.
Etzkorn was not so pleased, however, stating that the megaphone was “extremely frustrating,” because it slowed down the process of instruction. It also “shook [his] confidence” a little bit. He didn’t feel like himself. “In the games I was full of confidence and felt like I never left, but in practices I felt so disconnected. I had missed a lot, and was afraid I would lose discipline.”
This soccer season is the first one he has gone completely without the megaphone and Etzkorn is more than happy to be yelling instructions with confidence and his own voice, rather than a machine‘s.
He is a continuing inspiration to the team and everyone that knows him, not only in soccer, but in life.
“It changed my outlook on life,” Schaffer stated. “He never gave up in his fight and because of that I learned to never give up on the field or off because there are worse things than math problems and conditioning.”
Etzkorn is a changed man as well. “I don’t know how I am different, but I can just feel it. Some things just aren’t the same. I don’t tolerate negativity anymore, that’s for sure. Life’s too short for that. When I was diagnosed I really learned to appreciate life, and I decided I’m going to enjoy life, and I’m not giving it up without a fight.”
To date, Etzkorn is still cancer free, and has been for over two years. He is a true inspiration to us all. His battle taught me many life lessons, like never giving up. He is more than just a coach. He is my mentor. He is a father figure. He is my friend. And every conversation between us will always end the same way, never knowing where life will lead us.
“I love you Cameron.”
“I love you too Etz.”