The Palm Beach Punishers football program has been suffering the past few weeks. Not with the pang of an on-field defeat or the throbbing of an injury. We’ve been afflicted, but in a much more profound and permanent way. We’ve had to say goodbye to a dear friend, veteran lineman and special teams star Patty Lahman.
I won’t be discussing the circumstances of her untimely departure from this world. It is a mere footnote in comparison to the acts of kindness, bravery, and love she endeavored upon in her life. And I cannot venture to discuss her life before I met her on the gridiron. What I can do is show you the teammate she was and the impact she had on Palm Beach’s franchise–the players, coaches, fans, sponsors, and myself.
#41 in her favorite attire
Patty was one of those rare motivators: captain material. When we trained she always went hard. In the weightroom, she pushed me to do workouts I’d scarce attempted for their difficulty and intensity, even in High School football and college lacrosse training. When we were sprinting, doing crossfit, or hitting the tackling dummies, she made everyone else look paltry. Which is perfect: in fear of appearing obsolete or ineffectual, Patty made each one of us work harder.
She’d take on any position asked of her, and never complained about playing time; she was an absolute endangered species in a world of blame and self-entitlement. Unlucky with injuries, Patty would always approach physical therapy like she approached practices: an opportunity to improve physically. She always came back stronger than before, and always put a hurt on me when tackling practice came around (excuses like “I need to kick field goals” didn’t hold up against her).
Working hard(er)
My favorite memory of Patty isn’t the beers we shared, the laughs we had, or the deep conversations about where to take our program or handle internal disputes. It was the middle of an especially intense practice, and I was frustrated over a mistake and threw my helmet to the ground. As a young player, I was embattled: haunted by near-misses and disasterous team experiences in my past, I could never be perfect enough to meet my own expectations. I was also hunched with the weight of perceived lack of respect from my team. I wanted to be the best, and be approached as such. Patty called me out; though the exact words are now lost in the sands of time, the jist of it was “stop complaining, work harder, never worry what they think–just show them what they ought to”.
I can’t lie, it was put in much harsher terms. But at that point in my career, getting through to me was harder than getting James Harrison to hug Roger Goodell. Patty was one of the sweetest, most affable people I’ve ever met. But she was mercilessly dedicated to seeing her team and herself succeed.
I know that moving to Arizona was impossibly hard for her–we often heard from our estranged teammate at key points last year: before games, during a tough patch of team conflict, or after a hard-earned string of victories in the face of massive internal and external criticism. Patty was thrilled to return to Florida, and the team was elated to have her back. Her positive energy electrified our off-season, and even rookies connected with her in their brief encounters.
Patty is survived by her husband and three wonderful kids, all part of the Punisher family.
Always ready to help others and an understanding ear to their troubles, Patty is just another example that only the good die young. Her power will illuminate our locker room forever, and her kindness and strength will bolster our hearts even longer.
One team, one dream, one family. Rest in peace, Patty Lahman #41: wife, mother, sister, teammate, inspiration.
