Stranger Things

The year is unclear, but I know it was very early in my coaching career. In fact, it was likely 15 to 20 years ago when I boarded that plane. It was long before airline travel had become a regular part of my life and certainly prior to any frequent flyer status that ensures a decent seat on most of my flights.

On this day, I found myself walking toward the back of the plane with a paper ticket in my hand. I took a deep breath as I discovered I was in the last row. There was next to no room for my roller bag, my knees, or my dignity. The seats did not recline, and the bathroom was an arm's length away. This not only felt anti-hygienic, but it was also the space where people gathered while waiting to use the restroom. In doing so, they broke my introverted bubble.

I was in a row with two seats; I had the aisle, and a guy was seated next to the window. I rarely have long conversations with strangers on planes. Normally, I say hello, put my headphones on, open a book, and keep to myself. However, the man beside me noticed I was wearing soccer gear. He asked if I was a coach. I told him I was, and then he said, “Hi, I’m Grant. I’m a sportswriter.” For the duration of our flight, we talked about all things sports and, specifically, soccer.

We landed and went on our way.

Years later, a name surfaced as a key voice within the soccer community. That name? Grant Wahl. There were numerous times over the last two decades when I saw Grant’s work and found myself thinking, “Was that really the guy I was stuck in the back of a plane with?  Was I casually chatting it up with THE Grant Wahl?”

Of all the conversations I have had with strangers, this was the one that always stood out to me. It’s amazing how a stranger can have such a strong impact.

Grant was a leading voice in the soccer community. He was dedicated to the growth of the game and was a clear advocate of the women’s game. Many writers cover the women to establish themselves and then “move up” to the men’s side. Grant stayed committed to the women’s game. He also used his voice to speak up about systemic issues that felt much larger than soccer.

Grant arrived in Qatar a few weeks ago to cover the Men’s World Cup. He wrote about the games and migrant workers who died while building the World Cup infrastructure. These people were in conditions that could best be described as enslavement. He also proudly wore a soccer shirt filled with the colors of the rainbow. He was committed to drawing attention to human rights abuses in Qatar.

Grant seemed to be the kind of person who embraced a line from an Anis Mojgani poem, “Speak for those who are told to not speak unless spoken to, and then they are never spoken to.” He used his voice to highlight others.

Grant Wahl died suddenly while covering a game at the World Cup.

The soccer community lost one of our best. Let me be clear, I did not know Grant, but for an hour somewhere over the patchwork of the Midwest, in the back of a small plane, I felt known by him, known by a stranger.

In the days following his passing, social media painted a clear picture of what Grant brought to the world. Post after post shared of his kindness, how he connected with so many people, and his courage to speak truth to power on behalf of the powerless.

This time of year naturally sets us up for self-reflection.

As I write this, I am sitting in Florida, where I have been for the last month. Much of my time has been spent thinking about what I want to say yes to in 2023. I have reviewed my list of potential projects and moved some projects to the “yes” column and others to the “not now” list. I know for sure that I won’t write down anything that isn’t logical and life-giving, but I’ve added another filter; It must have the potential to build community.

I want to facilitate spaces where strangers can gather. I want to foster meaningful connections. I want to create shared experiences. I want to design more communities where strangers can be heard, find support, and be inspired to use their influence for good in the world. Part of the joy in this endeavor is that there is no map; we simply create, guided by an internal compass.

I know that I am stepping into 2023 with a decreased focus on what I want to do and a deeper commitment to who I want to be.

And if I am fortunate – it I stay committed to this path – maybe someday, a stranger will hear my name and think back to a moment when they, too, felt known.

If strangers can connect on planes, then surely, we can connect on Zoom, in retreat centers, workshops and coffee shops. As I write, I am grateful for the strangers who have made me feel known, and I am grateful for the opportunity to pay it forward.

Here’s to more stranger things.

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