The gym comes alive, buzzing with the energy and expectations of postseason high school basketball, and Patrick Behan is ready. He looks strong and sturdy in his red St. John’s College High pullover with the collar up. His hair is gelled and combed, styled just right by his girlfriend. A Maryland Terrapins tumbler filled with ice water, also courtesy of his girlfriend, is between his seat and assistant coach Pat O’Connor’s.
Before tip-off, starters from Jackson-Reed, the night’s opponent in this DCSAA Class AA boys’ semifinal, are introduced and jog onto the McDonough Arena court. Behan waits near the half-court line near the scorers’ table. He lifts his right hand around waist-high and, as much as he can, balls it into a fist.
This moment, on a Friday night in a deafening gymnasium, is all that matters. Not anything that comes next. Not his Cadets falling into a double-digit deficit or his players leaving the court with their shoulders slumped after a wrenching loss. Not his chest muscles deteriorating every month he lives with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) or his arms and legs weakening over the course of the season. And not this disease taking whatever it wants. Right now, all that’s on his mind is executing this next task: offering a fist bump because that’s what a coach does.
“He’s here, and he’s still fighting, and he’s still coaching,” Nataly Johanson, Behan’s longtime girlfriend, says as she watches the game from the second row behind the St. John’s bench. “And he will continue to do so as long as he can.”
Behan, 35, has coached every game in a season that has felt like a documentary. He decided to make his diagnosis public because his players would notice the changes, such as Coach suddenly needing to sit during practice when he never did before. Besides, this cruel thing hemorrhages medical bills, and he would need to raise money just to live.
“The disease is so time sensitive,” Behan says, “you’re always reacting.”
On Monday, Behan’s story reached new heights when St. John’s won the Washington Catholic Athletic Conference tournament title for the first time in his six years with the team. While jumping for joy amid their celebration, the boys were mindful to avoid knocking over their coach. Then, with little rest, the Cadets moved on to the D.C. tournament held on the campus of Georgetown. That meant Behan would keep on coaching, and that would be exhausting.
His game day starts four hours before tip-off. He needs help getting dressed and showered. Johanson does his hair. He’s into his hair, she says. At the beginning of the season, he thought she didn’t add enough texture. Now she knows how to part and style his hair the way he likes it. Then she stuffs his backpack with the essentials: the lemon drops, the tumblers — water, coffee, protein smoothie. He needs the smoothie for the calories, the coffee for the jolt and the water for a refresher after every time he talks.
It has been like that all season. When St. John’s practices, he’s present — sitting, but he’s there. During timeouts, he commands the huddle, though after speaking he has to lean back in his chair and catch his breath. When he sweats, he lowers his head to his upturned collar and wipes. When he needs hydration, he asks for help.
At times Friday, the adrenaline would take over. He would feel the joy he always has felt while coaching, but the crash inevitably comes. During the game, Behan would say or mouth the word “water,” and an assistant would reach for the tumbler. Other times, O’Connor would just know and pull it close to his lips like a corner man squeezes water into the mouth of his prizefighter. That’s a fitting image: When he’s coaching, it looks as if Behan is slugging through 12 rounds of a heavyweight title bout.
Behan may appear strong as he’s standing and watching the St. John’s defense try to stop Jackson-Reed, but look closer. When he lifts his body, all 6 feet 8 inches, the red wrinkles on the back of his shirt tremble ever so slightly. His muscles clench just so he can stay upright. When he finally sits, his right hand massages his chest again.
“I learned to be resilient,” St. John’s senior Malik Mack says, describing the lesson he took from Behan this season. “If he’s able to do it, we should be able to do anything he asks of us.”
Every day is a long day. Every task takes effort. But Behan is still a competitor, and the disease can never take that away.
“I’m not looking at it as like: ‘Oh, what can I do that’s going to be fun? Or, like, I haven’t done? Or [can I enjoy] this experience?’ I’m more of the mind-set of like, ‘What the hell can we do to beat this?’ ” Behan says. “ ‘What can we do to increase our odds?’ ”
Last spring, when doctors confirmed that Behan, 34 at the time, had ALS, it was just him and Johanson. They cried on the car ride home. He braced for a disease that had run through his family. She studied his insurance to find out what it would cover. Together, they made space in their lives for all the uncertainty. After the tears, his journey began with vitamins and pills — so many pills — as well as physical therapy three times a week, around-the-clock caregivers and a mandate to consume all the calories he could every day.
There would be little time left in his schedule and little energy remaining to fear about the future, so the two of them focus on whatever is happening now.
“We’re doing life one day at a time,” Johanson said. “We don’t know how it’s going to progress. We’ve stopped thinking what it’s going to be like in the future. Just now.”
And because his Cadets are down three points with 2.1 seconds remaining, now Behan needs to stand. He’s on his feet, back near half court, but his team can’t pull off a storybook ending. In the tiny locker room after the game, he’s standing as he addresses his team. He tells the boys that it’s okay to feel angry or sad, but don’t let those emotions overtake them.
“Stay together. I love everyone in this room. Let’s bring it in,” Behan says.
He walks out and finds the closest seat in the hallway. He rests his head against the wall; he’s worn out. But St. John’s has one last tournament coming up. That’s the next thing, and that’s all that matters right now.
