For many years, the running joke between Mark Dragoo and me was that his Arts & Sciences boys’ basketball teams were so much fun to watch that people would choose to spend their honeymoons coming to see them play.
It began because on the night of my first marriage — shortly after the modest ceremony — my new bride and I were part of a packed gymnasium just off East Third Street to watch the Patriots in action. I was not quite a year into a fledgling career as a sports writer and, before deciding to elope to a nearby courthouse to exchange vows, had already been assigned to cover Dragoo’s talented CSAS squad on that Valentine’s Day evening in 1992.
From that night on, Mark and I maintained a unique working relationship that later evolved into a friendship, the foundation of which was the bond of our shared faith and the remarkable joy that comes with becoming a grandparent. Soon after his retirement from coaching, Mark and I began texting one another to share daily devotionals, pictures of our grandkids, or just quick messages of encouragement.
It was during that exchange that I learned of Mark’s battle with cancer. In his typical manner, he never complained, regardless of how sick he felt, and instead always spoke more of how blessed he was and that he wanted to spend whatever time he had left on earth speaking with friends, former players and coaches about the importance of having a relationship with Jesus Christ.
On Tuesday, five days after our last text exchange, I received word that Mark had passed away at the age of 66.