Tate Myre died this week. Truth be told, he was murdered. When the latest in the seemingly endless series of disgruntled teenagers opened fire on his fellow Oxford, Michigan High School students, Tate Myre did not run from the gunfire in an effort to save himself. Instead he ran towards it, in an effort to save as many as he could. He paid for his valor with his life, dying in the back of the marked police car that officers were driving with all due speed in a desperate attempt to get him to a hospital.
Tate Myre was sixteen years old. The youngest of three brothers, he was a star athlete on Oxford High’s football and wrestling teams. On what tragically proved to be the last weekend of his life, he visited the University of Toledo on a recruiting visit for football. Apparently at some point after he had accepted Toledo’s invitation, he was extended one to visit Michigan State University for its game against Penn State. I know not how many kids in that spot would have sent eleventh-hour regrets to Toledo and made their way to East Lansing.
I know one who did not.
-AK
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