It was a morning, not unlike any other February morning. It was cold and there were several inches of a recent snowfall cluttering the streets. We were in luck that the snow had come the day before because that evening was going to be special. It was the day before my son’s fifth birthday. My wife and I always took off work for our sons’ birthdays to do something special. This year we were going to start early. UD was playing LaSalle that night and Justin was going to go with me to the game. That, however, was not what was going to make it special. It was what was going to happen after the game that was going to make it an exciting evening. Alice Daniels was going to hitch a ride with us and she and Chris were going to go out to eat after the game with Justin and me. Justin always loved to be around Chris. Justin marveled at the size of Chris’ hand whenever they shook hands. He was only two when they met for the first time, but they were always buddies.

Chris had a special way with children — everybody was worth something. It didn’t matter if they were important to the rest of the world, they were important to Chris. I’ll never forget a little boy about Justin’s age that asked Chris for his autograph. I had seen this little boy get Chris’ autograph several times after games and Chris recognized him again. It was obvious from listening to the young man talk that he had special needs and Chris always tried to make him feel special. One of the last times I saw them together, Chris told him that he wouldn’t give his autograph unless he got one in return. After finding a piece of paper to sign, the little boy made the exchange. Chris neatly folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket at the same time telling the young man how happy he was to get it.

The phone rang that morning a little after six. We don’t get many phone calls that early in the morning and they have never been filled with good news. This was a phone call that would change my life forever. A good friend of mine called from Dayton and told me that Chris Daniels died in the middle of the night. I didn’t believe him at first. This just couldn’t be happening — not to Chris. I called WHIO because I just couldn’t believe it. My hand shook as I dialed the number. It shook even more when they confirmed the awful truth.

I am at the stage in life where I just can’t remember half of what my wife tells me. I sometimes forget where I put my keys or my wallet. Without a map, I have trouble finding my way around a city that I lived in for 18 years growing up. Despite these lapses, I still remember every painful moment of that day. Alice and I became good friends over the previous four years and I could only imagine the agony that she had to be going through. What could be worse than having the phone ring and being told that one of your children has died? Alice is a strong woman. She had to raise four children on her own and still managed to get them all in college. But this was more than even the strongest can handle. I still talk to Alice every few weeks. She has learned to move on, but she still keeps Chris with her as if he were still among us. They have long talks, if only in her heart.

Alice is a consultant that often talks to groups about life and its meaning. Chris is usually one of her main topics. Learning to live without a loved one is one of the things that almost all of us will have to do sometime in our life. Sometimes it’s harder than it should be. Losing Chris was one of those times, not only for Alice but also for most of us associated with UD and UD basketball. Chris was not the most gifted of athletes to where the red and blue, but he had to be one of the most well loved and hardest working. Chris was diagnosed as Learning Disabled at a young age, but he refused to let that slow him down. The grades came harder, but they came all the same. One of his proudest moments was graduating from UD. It was not a secret to those around him that his time at UD and the close friends he made there meant more to him than the applause after a great play on the basketball court. All one had to do was read the newspapers and spoken words on television and radio to know that Chris was loved by all. If there was someone on campus that was better appreciated and loved, I would like to meet him or her. Chris has not been forgotten. The Chris Daniels Minority Scholarship Fund continues to grow. As of last summer, more than $40,000 has been contributed. Unlike most memorials created in this manner, people continue to contribute four years after his death.

Chris should be remembered not as a gifted athlete, but as a gifted person. The Athletic Department renamed the Most Improved Player Award to remember Chris. This was a very thoughtful and fitting tribute. The Atlantic 10 followed suit, probably at the urging of UD. Yet there is nothing in the Arena to help us remember one of our finest. It has often been mentioned that his number should be retired. I realize that this is something that is not generally done at the University of Dayton. I know there have been many other athletes of greater fame that do not have their number retired. I also know that there have been at least two UD athletes to die either during a game or as a result of an injury sustained during a game. It is my understanding that neither of their numbers have been retired. That should not stop the University of Dayton from retiring #33 or at least erecting a memorial at the UD Arena in Chris Daniels’ honor. Decisions made in the past should not compel us to make the wrong decisions today. Many individuals associated with UD have said many nice things about Chris. Let’s show the world that the Athletic Department agrees. We love to read about the athletic accomplishment of our sports heroes on their selected field of battle. Why is it when I walk into the Arena there is nothing to be learned about the other side of those same sports heroes? Chris was a star off the court as well as on. Let us share that with every person that walks into the Arena from this time on.

In this time when athletes are involved in so much off the court — drugs, violence, etc. Let’s encourage UD to recognize when a person leaves a wonderful legacy to their family, as well as the institution. Please let the Athletic Department know that I am not alone.