Two golden sports stories

If the chips were down, I'd want Sasha Cohen and Jason McElwain on my team. Through individual efforts this week, both beautifully exemplified the cliche that sport imitates life. In both cases, the human spirit shined brightly and poignantly, reminding us once again that it's what's inside that counts.

Jason McElwain is the autistic high school basketball manager who worked alongside his team and coach, always ready to run as the "gofer" whenever the need arose. During the final moments of the final home game, the coach, who'd told him to suit up in a basketball uniform for his senior night, gave him one more assignment--to check into the game during the final moments and "gofer it."

Gofer it he did. Jason's wonderful story is now running crazy through the media. Six three-point baskets in the last four minutes, 20 points total. Adam Morrison, eat your heart out! This came from a 5 foot, six inch young man who couldn't make the junior varsity team, so he worked as a manager. He couldn't make the varsity, so he, again, worked as a manager.

As the senior season ended, his coach thought he deserved a chance to at least play. His coach prayed that he could make just one basket. He missed the first two or three and then went to work. A miracle took over in that gym that night, and a young man who'd served his coach and his teammates, and who had waited for his call, wasted not one moment during this great opportunity in his life. I'll never forget this story, and I'm sure anyone who might be a bit skeptical about the potential of the human spirit won't either.

Last night, I watched the eastern feed of the Olympics because I knew the women's figure skating finals would be on as the grand finale, and I didn't want to nod off. So, at 7, I tuned in and remained mesmerized for two hours as skater after skater performed. Of course, the big story was Sasha Cohen. Sasha kept falling down during her warm-up.

The commentators sensed, through her eyes, that Sasha lacked confidence before she began her program, especially because of all those unwelcome meetings with the ice. She did look tired, and she did continue to fall during the early part of her program. Though a worldwide audience, including me, figured it was surely over for this beautiful young lady, Sasha didn't.

She held herself together, maintained a grace and finesse like nothing I've ever witnessed, and continued to skate as if she'd won the gold medal. The remaining performance was stunning, to say the least. Everyone knew she would not win the gold medal. Sasha said later she figured she'd won no medal at all, but she also demonstrated an impressive sense of gold-medal perspective.

Though the interviewer offered her the excuse of her painful groin muscle, Sasha would have none of that. Instead, she said she just didn't have what it took to make those jumps. She was more proud that she had maintained her composure and that she'd finished what she'd started. While watching her skate the rest of her program after those falls, I could not help but think, "There's a true champion."

When it was over and when she acknowledged her genuine surprise at actually winning that silver medal after all, I believe that Sasha Cohen showed the true meaning of being an Olympian. She performed her best, offered no excuses and reveled in her personal victory of overcoming the "agony of sure defeat" by hanging in there and giving it her all.

Sport does imitate life. Both of these athletes, in their perseverance against daunting odds, have so eloquently demonstrated qualities necessary as we face each new day. Whether we're going about our usual mundane business or aiming for that elusive gold ring, we constantly need to reach deep within ourselves for the discipline and desire to succeed. Our rewards will come. They don't always have to be gold, and they're often more valuable.

In unwittingly scripting their own triumphant stories--sure to be told over and over--Sasha and Jason, have poignantly demonstrated what it means to be true role models.