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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Steve Christilaw: Passion fuels excellence in sports, life

It is as elusive as it is essential, but if there is one thing that qualifies as the magic elixir of life, it is simply this: passion.

It is the key to so many of life’s locks. It is an unquenchable fire that unlocks both a burning need to learn more and a steadfast drive to master. It frees imagination and creativity and allows them to take flight, to soar and break free of self-imposed limitation.

It’s what makes human beings the fascinating characters they truly are.

Searching for that key is part of what growing up is all about. It’s why we open children up to a wide variety of experiences. We breathe life into them, then hope they find things in life that take their breath away.

Passion rubs off. It inspires.

Being exposed to it makes us yearn to find the spark to our own flame.

It can be elusive, this thing called passion. It can lead us down a false trail from time to time, as anyone with a history of not-so-great relationships can attest. The flame can sometimes burn so bright, and then burn out.

Think about the most influential people in your life, and the qualities that made them that way. The teachers, the preachers and the people reaching for something more – the ones who made a real difference in our lives.

Sometimes it’s a passion for a particular subject – a teacher who tries to unlock the beauty they see in mathematics or chemistry. The music teacher who is infectious about rhythms and melodies, or the English or social studies teacher who tries to unlock the power words have to move us to great thoughts and ideas.

I vividly remember when I found it and the difference it made.

It started with a song on the radio. Nothing out of the ordinary for me or for my friends. But the artist who wrote the song was coming to Spokane to do a benefit concert for the local food bank. Partly because I wanted to hear more and partly as a way to impress a girl, I bought tickets.

It turned out to just be the singer, his guitar and a stool on the stage at Whitworth, and for two hours he held the auditorium in the palm of his hand with a brand of storytelling that made us laugh, made us think and made us care.

For chunks of that time it felt as if it was just me and the troubadour having a conversation. And for others an entire auditorium came together as a rousing chorus.

That was the magic of Harry Chapin. All these years later I can still relive that concert, the songs and the stories he told between storytelling songs.

That was the night I knew I had to be a storyteller.

I can’t sing. My guitar playing is best left to the air version. But the subtle craft of wordplay became my passion, and the cadence of a well-crafted sentence my music.

I find continued inspiration from those who share my passion and practice my craft – my bookshelves are filled with my tribute to their ability. I’ve been fortunate to meet quite a few such writers, and their inscribed volumes are my treasure.

When you know passion, you recognize it in others, because there is nothing more inspiring to a wordsmith so much as passion. It jumps out at you and it makes you reach for loftier prose to describe it and do justice to its brilliance.

We have so many words for it. We call it a fire. Some call it a need and a hunger. We refer to it as desire or inspiration. The ancient Greeks attributed it to nine muses. In modern times, some simply call it love.

A rose by any other name …

Call it what you want, it’s a quality that leaps out at you.

We all experience passion to different degrees and varying intensities. Passion isn’t always the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it’s the light that leads you to the right tunnel and the right light.

I’ve seen it in athletes many, many times, and it’s fascinating to see how it plays out.

There are those who love the game and are able to walk away once their career is over. Others are driven to take their game to the next level and the level beyond that.

And then there are my favorites, the ones who love what the game gave them and commit themselves to teaching its lessons to a new generation.

There are a precious few who you know with delightful certainty will follow that path. If you are lucky to still be around, you feel something akin to déjà vu.

They don’t just teach the game, although their passion makes young players yearn to learn. They inspire.

And that is the perfect aspect of passion.

Passion is the gift you simply have to share.