Wednesday (My Monday)

Here I am, back at work. Oh, joy. Can you feel my enthusiasm?
Today was the start of the high school volleyball provincials, so my mood was swayed slightly by the prospect of seeing high school girls running around, but alas, the groupies were few and far between. Mostly parents (no MILFs) and grandparents.
I guess it's better than curling, though.
Anyways, one of the stories I had to work on was an update on the autopsy of a football player who died here. The Coroner's office, in their glacial pace, still had nothing to report after nearly three months. We think it was an aneurysm, or blood clot in the brain, but nothing has been released.
I knew Jeff quite well, and it was a truly difficult thing for me to do, writing about his death. Here's what I wrote back on Sept. 1....

Me n' Halvy
Originally uploaded by smoove_J.

“Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the poor man’s cottage and at the palaces of kings.”
— Horace

Dave Simpson cradled his friend’s head in his hands, trying to infuse life back into the still body by force of pure will alone.
While Jeff Halvorson’s body, with sightless eyes staring towards the heavens and skin taking a purplish tinge, was still there on the Apple Bowl field, his spirit had departed.
“When he collapsed, I just tried to be there and hold his head,” said Simpson, his stoic features betrayed by the emotion in his voice and eyes.
“It was so hard, because he was always a fighter, and when he was down, you just expected him to get up.
“And when you don’t see him get up, it’s . . . it’s . . . It was definitely the scariest thing I’ve seen in my life.”
Simpson, a fullback, and Halvorson, a running back, were close friends. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to find a member of the Okanagan Sun who didn’t consider Halvorson a friend. That’s what made his collapse, and subsequent death, at practice on Thursday so terrifying.
They watched coach Shane Sommerfeld and trainer Dave Willoughby perform CPR on Halvorson for five long minutes until the paramedics arrived. They watched as the EMTs coaxed his body back to life for a minute, only to see him pass into the beyond again. They milled about in a trancelike state in the emergency room of Kelowna General Hospital for an hour, desperately waiting for news that Halvorson had made it, that he was alright, that he would once again strap on the pads and don number 34. Finally, they had to look each other in the eyes, unable to believe their friend was gone.
“We’re all asking the same question: ‘why?’ But nobody has that answer,” said Perry Stang, a minister and the team’s counsellor.
“Not even a sparrow — those grungy little things eating fries outside of McDonalds — not even a sparrow falls that He doesn’t see. Jeff was not alone.”
Halvorson’s tragic passing — how words seem inadequate to describe just how unjust this was — has left an entire community in shock. How does an incredibly fit 21-year-old man, married just six weeks, with one infant daughter and another due Dec. 23, just drop to his knees and die before he hits the ground?
There are whispers of steroids or performance-enhancing substances from some people, but those invariably spring from the lips of those who have never met Jeff Halvorson. He was mature beyond his years, a genuine soul who wouldn’t pollute his body — or mind — with a shortcut to physical fitness.
“I’ll remember him for his attitude. He was an inspiration to everybody,” said Simpson. “He could do the 8-4 job, then come here to practice, and get the job done here.
“There are no words to describe him. He was unbelievable. He had respect for everybody. He never put anybody down, never singled anybody out. We were lucky enough to see him off the field. He was an amazing guy.”
And he was the same “whether he was on the sideline or on the sidewalk,” said Sun coach Jay Christensen.
“If you knew him, you’d know he had the same impact on this team, from the top to the bottom, whether you were on offence, defence, or whatever. Jeff made you feel like part of the team.
“It’s going to be something that’s going to take a long time for these young fellows to get over.”
Halvorson’s strength of character was matched by his talent on the field. The provincial 100-metre champion his senior year in high school in Grande Prairie, he was even invited to an Olympic team tryout. He was on pace to shatter all sorts of CJFL records this season, and would have been pulling on the pads for a living once his junior career was over.
“He had everything. He had incredible speed, vision, and a sense of where to go with the ball,” said Christensen. “But the biggest thing was his work ethic. You could tell Jeff to go do everything, and he would do it for you. He had an understanding of the game. He was probably the best player I’ve ever coached.
“The sky would have been the limit for him, had he decided to go on with his football,” added the CFL veteran. “I don’t think there would have been any barriers for him. Family was very important to him, but if that was something he chose to do, there’s no question in my mind he had the ability.”
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is that his children will only have a fistful of clippings, some faded home movies, or a closet-full of trophies to tell them what their father was like. His daugther, Cheyne, is just over a year old and too young to remember him. His other child isn’t even due until two days before Christmas.
Simpson and teammate Jeff Swaan stayed with Leah, his wife, on Wednesday night, and have pledged to be there for her as long it is needed.
“Something like this, that can happen so fast, shows how valuable life is,” said Simpson. “We just have to be thankful that we were touched by his life.”
Just days ago, Halvorson was talking about spring flyfishing and snowmobiling with his friends. Now, they’re talking about how to get to Sylvan Lake, Alta., for the funeral on Tuesday.
“I’ve never had a brother,” said Swaan. “I’ve had friends who have been like one . . . but he was closer to me than any of those other guys.
“It was just too soon,” he whispered.