[On October 17, 2007, I joined the military. After six years of service as a US Army infantryman, I wrote this blog post to the man who inspired me to join and changed the course of my life. I wanted to share it with you: my World Race family. In fact, it was the first blog I ever wrote. I’ve corrected some grammar and revised some sentences, but otherwise the story hasn’t changed. I hope you enjoy and are inspired to live your life to the fullest, like Jeff.]
October 17, 2013
Hey Jeff,
It’s been a while. How are things up there? Well, I leave the military today. Six years ago, I joined the military because of your influence and inspiration. I am forever grateful to you. The military has grown me as a man in ways I would have never learned as a civilian.
I don’t know if you know this, but you also influenced me to play football. As middle schoolers, we played pick up games of tackle football on the baseball field beside the Friday night varsity football game. You were already on the junior varsity team. One of your other JV teammates was playing with us. He was the starting running back. During this one pickup game I remember, he was scoring at will. Think Bo Jackson or Barry Sanders. All of us on defense, tried and failed multiple times to tackle him. Although on one play, in a burst of bravery, I grabbed him as he ran passed us and held on for dear life. He dragged me through the dirt and grass for a few feet before he fell down. He was short of the end zone by a few yards. You patted me on the back and told me “Good play, man!” I thought, “Whoa! THE Jeff Webb just told me I made a good play. Awesome!” From then on, I played with a little more pep in my step. In fact, a few plays later, I intercepted the football as it was thrown to a receiver on my side of the field. I will always remember you pointing at me after the play and yelling “You need to play football!” I tried to play it cool, but I was thinking, “Jeff Webb just told me I need to play football! I never thought I would be good enough. I gotta try out for the JV team now!” That boost pushed me to try out and make JV football team the next year.
I remember my sophomore year of varsity football three years later, you were a starter and a big hitter. We were playing in the playoffs, so of course you were going full tilt. You tackled the running back violently and came out of the game a little woozy. You walked over to me and said, “I don’t remember anything from this game…don’t tell Coach.” You hit the poor kid so hard that you gave yourself a concussion. In true Jeff Webb fashion, you did not want to quit. You wanted to play through the pain for your teammates and to win the game. Eventually, Coach Johnson did find out, and it ended your playing time that night. I was intrigued. I had never spoken with someone with a concussion. About every two plays, you kept asking me what had just happened in the game. I probably should have been more concerned, but it was hilarious to me at the time. We lost a hard-fought game at the last second. After the game in the locker room, you were the last one out of the shower because you kept forgetting you had already bathed. So you would just bathe again. We eventually had to make you get out of the shower and put on your clothes. You were still convinced that you hadn’t showered. As we were walking back to the buses, we were still enjoying asking you about the game, which you still didn’t remember. It got quiet for a while, until you threw your hands up in the air in celebration and shouted, “I remember now! We lost!” We all got a good laugh out of that one. It helped ease the pain of the season ending. You made our night better even when you didn’t mean to.
To be real, I was never a good football player. I just didn’t like to hit hard or to get hit hard, which meant, shockingly, I didn’t get a lot of playing time. The next year during the end of a preseason game, Coach Johnson put me in on defense as a cornerback. After a couple plays, their receiver caught a pass right in front of me. He was a bench warmer too, so I don’t think he wanted to hit hard either. We collided anyways. The way I remember that hit is I picked him up and spiked him to the turf. I remember it this way because you yelled from the sideline in front of the whole team, “That a boy, Upchurch! Forget the name Upchurch! You’re new name is Takedown! Hit him again this play, Takedown!” Amazing what words will do to your confidence, especially words from an upper classman. You could have sat back while you were off the field and the third string was playing. But you wouldn’t, Jeff. You were different. You cared for those around you. A natural leader.
Off the football field, you were a senior student at Wake Christian Academy. Seniors got to sit in the front of the auditorium for our morning chapel service. We would always open up with praise and worship. I remember a lot students half-singing with crossed arms, too insecure to worship God like they wanted to. But not you, Jeff. You would worship God the way you wanted you too. You would be rocking back and forth, lifting your hands, closing your eyes, and singing the words like you were face-to-face with your Savior. You didn’t care what others thought. You only cared about what God thought. That seed of reckless worship was planted in many of us, including myself. I am a more genuine worshipper because of your early influence. I can imagine you now praising God in heaven just like you did in those chapels: hands raised, rocking back in forth, singing to Jesus face-to-face.
After you graduated, I would occasionally see you over at the McKay’s house when we would play the greatest game ever invented: Wacky Pool Ball. (Wacky Pool Ball is water polo, rugby, and basketball all rolled into one). You were a fierce competitor there, as well. I just remember the joy you brought to everyone. Whether you were debating a questionable score or goofing off, everyone loved to be around you. And you didn’t care if we were still high school students and you were in college. We were still your friends and cool enough to hang out with you. That was probably the last time I saw you.
September 21st, 2007. I will always remember where I was when I heard about your passing. I was eating at Chick-fil-a in Lynchburg, Virginia. My phone rang. It was my Mom. She asked if I had heard the news. She had been told at the Wake Christian football game. I was in shock and heartbroken. You had passed away in a vehicle accident during a military training exercise. You had joined the Marines the year earlier and they were lucky to have you. Everyone was so broken at the funeral, even the Marines whom had only known you a short time. Your buddy Rocco was a mess. I will never forget watching him at the graveside as he gave his final salute, barely able to hold himself together. Who has an impact like that? You had obviously impacted his life in a big way as a great friend. I saw your fiancee, the love of your life, Jane, at the viewing the day before. You would have been so proud of her. She was so resilient through it. She stood by your side, hugging, talking, and crying with people as they passed. She and your family were so strong. At times, it seemed they were doing more comforting than people were comforting them. I’ve seen your brother David twice now since your funeral. He graduated with my older sister, but I don’t know him well. Both times when we spoke, we shared something I can’t quite describe. We never mentioned you, but it was almost like we knew each other had this indescribable peace from having you be a part of our lives.
I recently watched an adoption campaign video. In it, you see the new parents when they see their children that they have waited to hold for so long. I imagine that is what happened when you went up to Heaven six years ago. God couldn’t wait to see you and ran your way. He picked you up, hugged, and kissed you as you entered the gates. His child, now forever in His presence.
Jeff, you will be in my story wherever I go for the rest of my days. You see, shortly after your funeral, I felt a calling from the Lord to join the military. I had never felt that before. I always respected the military, but never considered joining. I prayed about it, and I knew I was supposed to serve my country, for a time, as a part of the US armed forces. A month after you passed, I swore into the US Army as an infantryman.
As I scroll through the all comments left on your Facebook memorial page from 5 and 6 years ago, I see that everyone is growing older, getting married, having babies, etc. It looks like everyone is moving on, but we’re not really. We will always remember you and how you have touched our lives. I don’t think I will ever understand why God took you so quickly. You made such a big impact on everyone you came into contact with. We all miss you, man. Your Dad tells you all the time on your page of how proud he is of you and how he can’t wait to see you again. Your Mom visits your grave often, even in the snow. She makes sure your gonna be okay, and maybe hoping to feel your loving presence more time.
As I visited your grave today, there was a peace across that field. I sat on the Webb bench and looked up at the tree. It was crazy. The entire tree had lost most of its leaves except for the leaves over your grave. They weren’t even changing colors. They were still bright green. I thought that was a great testament to your life. Although, the world could be going wrong all around you, you stayed joyful and full of life. I strive to impact and influence people the way you did, Jeff. May we all be more like Jeff Webb.
