This story, written by senior football captain Max Brooks, originally appeared in The Argus on Sept. 17, 2010.

On Sept. 11, 2010, the sound of 60 different conversations filled the air in Room C101 of Illinois Wesleyan University's Center for Natural Science. The anticipation of the coming struggle overwhelmed the seemingly calm room, as the excitement mounted in every player. The day of the home opener had arrived. 

Coach Norm Eash entered from the back of the classroom, flanked by the rest of the coaching staff, and a hush immediately fell over the players as he worked his way to the front of the room. This is the tradition before every home game, but something was decidedly different. 

The home opener is always special, but even that didn't explain the somber and serious nature of this pregame meeting. Eash introduced a clip and moved to the side as the lights dimmed and the projector flickered to life. 

As anyone might expect, the motivational video shown to the football team on Sept. 11 was filled with images of heroes who struggled against the unthinkable to save everyone they could on that fateful day nine years ago. 

Clips of soldiers embracing, some highlights of the previous football game and white text splashed across the screen that simply stated, “Play for him…and him…him…” It was these words that caught everyone's attention. 

I don't remember Eash's exact words as he addressed the team next, but the point he made went something like this: when you play today, you are not just playing for yourselves as Titans. You are playing for all those who gave their lives so that you could have this opportunity. You play for all of those who wore the Titan uniform before and who fed their hopes and dreams into this program. You play for all of your teammates in the room with you today who depend on you and trust you. And most importantly, you play for those brothers who want more than anything to be here with you today – him…and him…and him. 

As Eash said this, he pointed to different players in the room, his last motion directed to the rear entrance of the classroom as tears welled up in his eyes. Shrouded in light from the hallway, the personification of inspiration walked into the meeting. 

Six months earlier, sophomore #Andrew Weishar# (Midlothian, Brother Rice HS) promised to be the next great defensive lineman to come out of Illinois Wesleyan. He was one of the most impressive players of his class, a dedicated worker, a student of the game, a potential starter heading into his sophomore season, my protégé and one of my closest friends. 

Wish was quiet, but he exuded a work ethic and determination that inspired all those around him. He even took it in stride when we pronounced his name “Washer” during the first few weeks of his first-year season. When he smiled, it engulfed his whole face and while he was always happy to participate in the shenanigans and pranks we played, he also knew how to turn the switch and become a serious worker when it was time. 

When he was diagnosed with colon cancer, it stunned the whole team. How could a 19-year-old have colon cancer? That was a disease for old men - no one even got their colon checked by a doctor until they were at least 50 years old. This was something that we joked about, not something that could happen to one of our friends. No one knew how to handle it, but the person who seemed to take it the best was Wish. Ever optimistic, he remained his normal self even after being diagnosed. 

The doctors had found the cancer early and thought that with a minor surgery they could remove it, but as it turned out, the doctors were a bit too optimistic in their initial estimate of the danger the rapidly progressing disease posed. 

Wish has undergone several rounds of chemotherapy since being diagnosed. The minor surgery turned into very drastic surgery, including a 10-day stay at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. 

When Wish walked in to that class room Saturday, the whole team was stunned. Here he was, only three weeks after undergoing life-altering surgery, and he was here to support us. Showing a slight limp, and 50 pounds lighter than the last time any of us had seen him, Wish held his head high and slowly descended the stairway to the front of the classroom. 

When he had made it halfway to the front, we recovered from the initial shock and thunderous applause exploded through the room. The love and admiration in the room was palpable. As much as we like to think of ourselves as the toughest and most hardened warriors, not one player who knew Wish could hold back tears when they witnessed his return. 

Standing there in front of all of us, Wish looked every bit the man he was when he had left us. He stood tall and held back the tears as he told us how happy he was to be back with us on game day. The room exploded into motion as Wish finished and he led us in the most emotional break of our football careers.
Those of us who knew him well stayed behind and gave him hugs, and I showed him the locker I had kept for him. It was filled with his jerseys and equipment, and it was positioned where he had always been, right next to me. Wish never really left us because we were constantly thinking of him and he was always thinking of us. But when we had him there in person this past weekend, we became invincible, just like him. 

Wish begins his next and hopefully final round of chemotherapy next week, and he is approaching it with his typical resolve and upbeat attitude. His biggest concern is finding a good book to read while he has to sit in a room for up to eight hours. 

He is doing much better and his doctors are very hopeful that he will make a recovery. The football team purchased wristbands to honor Wish, his struggle and the struggle his family has gone through. We are selling them for $3 and all of the profit goes to Wish's family to help pay his medical expenses.
Any donations and purchases are appreciated. If you have any questions please email mbrooks@iwu.edu.