When my cell phone rang last July showing a number with a 214 area code (Dallas), I was immediately suspicious.
In today's world, unfamiliar, out-of-state calls to our cell phones usually mean one thing—telemarketers.
99 times out of 100, I'll ignore a call from an unfamiliar number. For some reason, though, I answered this particular Dallas-based call and it turned out to be a blessing.
It was Todd Wills, one of my best friends from college, on the other end of the line. You won't find a bigger University of Texas sports fan than Todd. And with the Longhorns' football team visiting Alabama last September, Todd wasn't going to miss that game. He asked me to help find him two tickets for the Bama-UT game, which I did. I actually bought four, and my wife Angel and I went with Todd and his friend to watch Texas defeat the Crimson Tide 34-24 in Tuscaloosa.
In the game's final minutes, most of those wearing crimson and white had already departed Bryant-Denny Stadium, leaving a burnt orange wave of ecstatic Longhorn fans who watched their team get payback for Alabama's win in Austin the previous year. We stayed until the Longhorn Band performed The Eyes of Texas, and Todd had a smile as wide as Texas as he held up his right hand displaying Texas' world-renowned Hook 'em Horns sign.
It was a magical football day for Todd. In the fourth quarter, he began receiving text messages from fellow Longhorn fans who knew Todd was watching a historical regular season victory in person. And as much as his friends and family celebrated Texas' upset of Alabama, they celebrated that Todd was able to be there in person.
That's the kind of person Todd was. You rooted for him to succeed. He effused optimism. He was that underdog character in a movie everyone wanted to see win in the end. And he was a great listener, something I'd forgotten about Todd until I saw him again.
Listening and absorbing the opinions of others is a lost art. And we should appreciate those people in our lives who care enough about us to really listen. People like Todd Wills.
Seeing the joy in his eyes erased any frustration I had about Jalen Milroe's two interceptions or the fact that Texas outscored Alabama in the fourth quarter 21-8. Todd savored every minute, every play of the game. And his smile when it ended was something I'll never forget.
But the eight hours or so we spent together that Saturday weren't about football. Yes, that was the calling card that brought Todd to Tuscaloosa, but the day was special for my wife and me because of who we shared it with.
It was also an opportunity to tell a longtime friend how much I loved and respected him, something I should have done decades earlier. It would be the final time I saw Todd, but that Tuscaloosa visit reignited our friendship and we spoke and texted regularly thereafter.
In the days leading up to the Texas game, I learned Todd had been diagnosed with cancer about a year earlier. It was serious and life-threatening. But Todd was the most positive person I knew and he downplayed his battle with cancer, instead choosing to remain upbeat and positive.
I never grilled Todd with a bunch of questions. We talked about his diagnosis, treatment plan and how he remained confident he would defeat cancer, just like his Longhorns defeated Alabama that September night.
Less than a year later, the battle Todd refused to let define him took his life on July 29, 2024. Todd left four children, two brothers and countless friends behind, though each was a better person through their relationship with him.
Todd was a talented sportswriter whose career included stops at the Corsicana Daily Sun, Dallas Morning News, Arlington Morning News and ESPN.
It took Todd a long time to find a career. His Bachelor of Arts in History degree wasn't exactly the ideal foundation for a sports journalist. But Todd's writing spoke for itself, as did the passion he had for all levels of sports.
Todd was also the longtime radio voice of the Corsicana High School Tigers for football, basketball and baseball.
And Todd was a walking encyclopedia when it came to sports, especially his Dallas Cowboys, Dallas Mavericks, Texas Rangers and his Longhorns. But when it came to covering sports as a journalist, he was professional all the way. It had to be difficult for Todd to remain neutral while covering his beloved teams. Cheering or celebrating the game is taboo for working media at stadiums. Somehow, though, Todd was never kicked out of a press box, but he laughingly told me showing no emotion wasn't easy.
But on Saturday, September 9, 2023, Todd had a lot to cheer about. That night, he was a Texas fan, not a journalist. His Longhorns had taken a major step toward football dynasty status right before his eyes, which by the way were watery with emotion as Todd absorbed the moment.
It had been nearly 20 years since we'd spoken to each other, not because of some argument or dispute though. Life opens new doors and sometimes we forget about who we left standing behind the previous one. People we admire and love. The friends who helped shape the person we become. All too often they become memories. And memories can fade.
That's not an excuse, just a reality. And with my professional and personal life crashing and burning 20 years ago, it was that much easier to let go of friendships I should have held onto as my life spiraled into oblivion.
Many of you know I attended the University of Texas at Austin, where I earned my Bachelors Degree in Journalism. I pledged Chi Phi, a relatively new fraternity, my freshman year at UT.
Through my four years at Texas, I twice served as fraternity president, and I made some friendships I was sure would last a lifetime. Todd Wills was near the top of that list.
After graduation, my journey carried me to Alabama, and in the process I lost contact with most of my college fraternity brothers. Not my fault or their fault. It's just something that happens as our lives move in different directions.
Thanks to a college football game, though, our friendship was jump started. Over the next 10 months, we talked regularly about sports, politics and country music, three of our favorite topics.
We also talked about his cancer, but only to a degree he felt comfortable with. Those conversations would be on his terms. And in typical Todd fashion, he'd put an optimistic spin on each medical update, even as those became graver each month.
Three days before he died, Todd posted an update on social media after a visit with his oncologist. His diagnosis was grim and the pain Todd felt was severe enough that he wasn't sure when, or if, he'd be able to return to work. He shared something his oncologist told him that day: “I can kind of see you're going downhill. We need to stop that.”
The realization that Todd, an eternal optimist, was losing the battle seemed bitterly ironic. But in true Todd fashion, his final social media post was a positive spin on a very difficult situation.
The more I read his final post, the more I'm convinced Todd wrote that not for himself, but to reassure the people he loved that he would be okay. I think he knew more about his condition that day than he revealed. Maybe he even knew the end was near.
But until the end, Todd lifted up those who loved him and stayed true to the optimist he was.
“Thanks for your prayers. All of you mean so much to me.
We're going to start going uphill. Screw going downhill. We've got football season coming up. I've got games to go to.
Onward.”
I'll always treasure the game we attended together on September 9, 2023. It didn't matter whether Texas or Alabama prevailed because when my friend Todd came back into my life, I was the true winner that day. And I'll always be thankful for that.
