On a lark

After his mother's death, Chad Chastain found a calling

Cruising around Oakland on a warm, Indian summer day, I stopped to run an errand and obsessively checked for an e-mail message. "What's up, money?" it began, and as I scrolled downward, I realized it was sent by Chad Chastain, kid brother of Brandi and perhaps the only person I've ever met who chows avocado more unrepentantly than I do.

"I am about to embark on a 50-day mission," the message continued. "Just give me a call."

I called and got voice mail -- and then I got a king-sized lump in my throat. The recorded voice on the greeting was that of Chad's mother, Lark, cheerfully informing callers how to get ahold of her famous daughter should they so desire.

Three-and-a-half weeks earlier, I had spent an afternoon with Lark and her kids at Brandi's San Jose home, absorbing the effortless warmth of America's ultimate soccer mom. Watching the Chastains interact -- the back-and-forth silliness, the constant interruptions, the almost telepathic comfort level -- it felt more like being around three siblings than parent and children.

A week later, Lark went to sleep in the same house and died of an aneurysm in the middle of the night. She was 56, and to say she touched a lot of people doesn't begin to do her justice. Eight-hundred mourners showed up at her memorial service, and nearly half that many went back to her daughter's place to revel in Lark's memory. In the days since, story after story has poured in from acquaintances who felt an almost instantaneous bond after meeting her.

It was the worst thing that could have happened, and yet, somehow, her children have channeled their mother's relentless optimism and carried on with amazing grace. The first correspondence I got from Brandi was so full of perspective, so grateful for life's blessings, it almost seemed designed to cheer me up. Chad, too, appears to be doing that thing we all say we'd like to do, but which is so much easier said than done -- celebrating the life of a loved one when it ceases without warning.

On Friday, Sept. 7, Chad kissed his mother goodbye and told her, "I love you," before driving to Sacramento to spend the night with a friend. Lark stayed at Brandi's house with her daughter's 13-year-old stepson, Cameron; everyone else was out of town. (Jerry Smith, Cameron's father and the head coach of Santa Clara's women's soccer team, was on a roadtrip with the defending NCAA champion Broncos; Brandi, his wife, was with the U.S. national team in Columbus, Ohio, for a match against Scotland; Lark's husband, Roger Chastain, was visiting his parents in Nevada.)

The next morning Chad called from Sacramento, surprised that his mother, an early riser, didn't answer the phone. It was Cameron, who had a soccer game later that day. "Tell Larkie I'm running a little late," Chad told Cameron, "so if I'm not there by 9:30, I'll meet you at the game." Then Chad hung up and hit the road, unreachable because of a depleted cell phone battery. Cameron discovered Lark's body, and by the time Chad pulled up at the house, about an hour and 45 minutes later, there were police cars outside and neighbors standing watch.

"You know, it still hasn't hit me that I won't see her again, that she won't just be there when I walk downstairs," Chad says. "It's a very eerie feeling, and I'm almost at a point where I would rather continue to believe that she might come back. I know it might not be healthy, but it makes me feel connected to her. Does that make any sense?"

The answer, of course, is that we all have to make sense of life's tragedies for ourselves, and Chad has been in this sad place before. A couple of years ago, he lost his best friend, 28-year-old Bobby Whipple, to cancer. "He had been in a wheelchair all his life, yet he was a very independent person," Chad says. "He had 175 surgeries in his life -- and, obviously, that took an incredible toll -- yet he learned to drive a car and he graduated from college with honors. He's a wonderful example of someone who beat the odds."

Now Chad, who spent the previous five years running a fitness company in Dallas, wants to take an active role in honoring his friend's fighting spirit and his mother's huge heart. The 50-day mission he and a friend plan to embark upon next summer truly sounds like a lark: 50 golf dates in 50 states, all to raise money for the American Cancer Society's children's cancer research fund, which Brandi has supported since her heroics in the '99 Women's World Cup. It's a noble endeavor, but it won't be easy. As someone who recently attended five football games in five states in five days, I can assure you the idea sounds more glamorous on paper than it will be in real life.

A four-handicap golfer, Chad hopes to fund the trip by soliciting five major sponsors to contribute $50,000 apiece. Using his sister's many celebrity connections (Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan and Charles Barkley, for starters), he'll try to pin down high-profile playing partners and generate media coverage, all in the hopes of spurring donations for the cause.

"I feel like this has been on the back burner for 30 years of my life, and now I finally have an understanding of who I am and what I need to do," Chad says. "This is a great way to honor the memory of two people and raise awareness for a great pursuit, and besides, who wouldn't want to go out and golf every day? If all goes well, I'll play Pebble Beach on the 49th day, and that's when we'll spread Lark's ashes into the Pacific Ocean. Then we'll end it in Hawaii, and the family can come out for a big celebration."

Thankfully, I have no idea what Chad and Brandi must be going through right now, but as a parent, I have some feelings about the style in which they've chosen to cope. If there's a way Lark Chastain can appreciate her kids' resilience -- and we all have a need to hope that this is possible -- I believe she's more proud of them than ever before.

Ten days ago, I e-mailed Brandi to tell her that one of her biggest fans, my 6-year-old daughter, Natalie, had scored a goal in her first soccer game. Brandi responded that I should make sure to preserve the moment; that for all of her soccer heroics, "I don't have any idea when my first goal was."

Perhaps not, but I guarantee at least one person does. In fact, I found the proof right there in an old notebook.

Sixteen months before I met Lark Chastain, I interviewed her on the phone for an Sports Illustrated Women piece I was writing on Brandi. Looking back on my hectic scribble, I can see that Lark's memories of Brandi's childhood, on and off the soccer field, were full of incredible detail. She talked of Brandi wincing during ballet practice, casting aside dolls to play in the yard, embarrassing middle-school boys who taunted her for being the only girl on the field and "kicking the ball against the garage for hours and hours, until I had a splitting headache."

Late in that interview, in response to who knows what question, Lark said this: "I'll never forget Brandi's face the day I took her to 6-year-old soccer tryouts. She was just so excited, so full of life. She had these white plastic cleats with red bottoms, and she was running around all over the place. They put her at keeper, and she was diving at people's feet with reckless abandon. It was just ..."

According to my notes, Lark Chastain didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.

"She was a great woman," Chad says, "and she left a wonderful legacy. Brandi and I have good intentions toward everyone we meet, and that's because of her. More than ever before, we're striving to lead good lives, and she's left an easy line for us to trace."

They're putting that old Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song to life: Rejoice, rejoice/we have no choice/but to carry on ...

Sports Illustrated senior writer Michael Silver sounds off each Wednesday on CNNSI.com.

 

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