January 3, 2023
by Joseph Mele
Mrs. Dudley;
My name is Joe Mele, and I was an acquaintance of your son Orlando’s. He and I played football together in Junior High and High School. We weren’t necessarily close friends, but we shared a mutual respect for one another. In fact, we competed against one another for the quarterback position in 9th Grade.
I want to share the below short story with you, because it’s caused me to repeatedly think of your son and the words of kindness and understanding he shared with me, in a time when I really needed it. I believe it defines the type of caring person he was.
My father, Bart Mele, who regretfully passed away in November of 2022, was Orlando’s football coach in High School. As you could imagine, it wasn’t always easy being the head coach’s son.
After one particularly difficult practice during my Junior year, my father and his assistant coaches, being frustrated with the effort, or lack thereof being put forth by the team, walked off the field in disgust in the middle of the practice, thereby leaving it to the team captains to figure out how to proceed. Perhaps not the wisest choice in retrospect. One of the team captains gathered the team together in the middle of the practice field and unfortunately began mercilessly berating my father in front of me and the rest of the team. I remember it being excruciatingly painful for me to have to stand there and listen. Not wanting to cause dissension among the team, I remained silent while the captain continued to express his negative, and at times, vulgar opinion of my father.
The following day, though practice went considerably better, at the conclusion of practice, while the team was again huddled together in the middle of the field and the coaches having already started to make their way to the field house, that same captain continued his negative rant about my father from the previous day. This time, I had had enough and I took matters into my own hands. Regrettably, a fight broke out between me and the captain. The coaches by now were a few hundred yards away, and when they saw the pandemonium occurring on the field, they all rushed back over to the field of play in order to break up the melee, which by then had gotten quite out of hand. Once the fight was broken up, and tempers simmered, I made my way to the field house with the rest of the team. Naturally, I was walking separately from the rest of the team, and was feeling terrible about the whole situation. I felt entirely alone. I had three very close friends on the team, but at this particular moment, a time when I needed them most, not one of them made any attempt to say or do anything to comfort me. These were the same kids who ate at my father’s table numerous times, who spent many night’s with me in my father’s house, and who had vacationed with me and my family in the summer on numerous occasions. That’s when I felt somebody jog up next to me and lightly tug on my jersey’s sleeve. When I turned, fully expecting to see one of my close friends, instead I saw your son, Orlando. He said, “Joe, don’t worry about it. If I were you and he talked about my dad that way, I would’ve done the same thing. You did nothing wrong. Hang in there. It’ll be okay.” It seems like such a little thing, but I can’t tell you how much his kind words meant to me at that moment. And I can’t tell you how much it meant coming from him, not a close friend mind you, but an acquaintance. Someone who certainly didn’t need to say or do anything, but decided to intervene out of kindness. It took courage. Orlando was actually much closer to the team captain than he was with me, but instead of ignoring the coach’s son, he chose to put himself in my shoes, and to do something he thought would help me get through that terrible day, that night, that week, or what turned out to be the rest of the season. Sadly, it was Orlando who didn’t make it through the rest of the season. But it was because of your son’s small act of love and kindness, that I did. Take comfort in knowing that when I think of your son, and I do so often, this is how I remember him. I will never forget your son Mrs. Dudley. He was special, but you already know that.
My name is Joe Mele, and I was an acquaintance of your son Orlando’s. He and I played football together in Junior High and High School. We weren’t necessarily close friends, but we shared a mutual respect for one another. In fact, we competed against one another for the quarterback position in 9th Grade.
I want to share the below short story with you, because it’s caused me to repeatedly think of your son and the words of kindness and understanding he shared with me, in a time when I really needed it. I believe it defines the type of caring person he was.
My father, Bart Mele, who regretfully passed away in November of 2022, was Orlando’s football coach in High School. As you could imagine, it wasn’t always easy being the head coach’s son.
After one particularly difficult practice during my Junior year, my father and his assistant coaches, being frustrated with the effort, or lack thereof being put forth by the team, walked off the field in disgust in the middle of the practice, thereby leaving it to the team captains to figure out how to proceed. Perhaps not the wisest choice in retrospect. One of the team captains gathered the team together in the middle of the practice field and unfortunately began mercilessly berating my father in front of me and the rest of the team. I remember it being excruciatingly painful for me to have to stand there and listen. Not wanting to cause dissension among the team, I remained silent while the captain continued to express his negative, and at times, vulgar opinion of my father.
The following day, though practice went considerably better, at the conclusion of practice, while the team was again huddled together in the middle of the field and the coaches having already started to make their way to the field house, that same captain continued his negative rant about my father from the previous day. This time, I had had enough and I took matters into my own hands. Regrettably, a fight broke out between me and the captain. The coaches by now were a few hundred yards away, and when they saw the pandemonium occurring on the field, they all rushed back over to the field of play in order to break up the melee, which by then had gotten quite out of hand. Once the fight was broken up, and tempers simmered, I made my way to the field house with the rest of the team. Naturally, I was walking separately from the rest of the team, and was feeling terrible about the whole situation. I felt entirely alone. I had three very close friends on the team, but at this particular moment, a time when I needed them most, not one of them made any attempt to say or do anything to comfort me. These were the same kids who ate at my father’s table numerous times, who spent many night’s with me in my father’s house, and who had vacationed with me and my family in the summer on numerous occasions. That’s when I felt somebody jog up next to me and lightly tug on my jersey’s sleeve. When I turned, fully expecting to see one of my close friends, instead I saw your son, Orlando. He said, “Joe, don’t worry about it. If I were you and he talked about my dad that way, I would’ve done the same thing. You did nothing wrong. Hang in there. It’ll be okay.” It seems like such a little thing, but I can’t tell you how much his kind words meant to me at that moment. And I can’t tell you how much it meant coming from him, not a close friend mind you, but an acquaintance. Someone who certainly didn’t need to say or do anything, but decided to intervene out of kindness. It took courage. Orlando was actually much closer to the team captain than he was with me, but instead of ignoring the coach’s son, he chose to put himself in my shoes, and to do something he thought would help me get through that terrible day, that night, that week, or what turned out to be the rest of the season. Sadly, it was Orlando who didn’t make it through the rest of the season. But it was because of your son’s small act of love and kindness, that I did. Take comfort in knowing that when I think of your son, and I do so often, this is how I remember him. I will never forget your son Mrs. Dudley. He was special, but you already know that.