So far we've seen three pieces on Rick Majerus which we thought were very well done: first, Bernie Miklasz, second ESPN's Paul Biancardi, and finally Sports Illustrated's Seth Davis.
It's hard to write about someone you care about after they die, and all three of these guys did well, but Davis came closest to an uncomfortable truth when he said this:
"Furthermore -- and let's be honest here -- we have always known that this was not a man destined to live a long and healthy life. He liked to project himself as a jovial, Falstaffian figure, but it is obvious he was also a sad, depressed, lonely man. He had lots of acquaintances but few close friends. He loved two things: Basketball and food. In the end, those things consumed him, not the other way around."
People who find a way to bring death early, whatever the agent - alcohol, drugs, food, you name it - can reasonably be assumed to be less than perfectly happy.
Biancardi sort of followed up on this inadvertently - he had no interest in criticizing his former boss and friend - when he said Majerus had often said this to him:
"You have a great coach's wife who loves you and well-behaved children who love you unconditionally ... I wish I had your life."
He was a complex man, but our guess is Davis got it pretty much right. A man who knows he has a family history of heart problems doesn't drown himself in food just for the pleasure of eating.
The shame of it is that at the end, his hospital room was not much different than the hotel room, really, and without the family Biancardi had which he envied. We wish that he had found the things in life, away from the court that is, which he wanted and that he could have controlled his appetites.
Yet the measure of Majerus is how loved he was, and how many people have said truly lovely things about the man. Everyone should be so loved.