Friday, November 5, 2010

Saint Heath

This is one of my favorite stories I've written so far in my career. It appeared in the March 2010 issue of Jupiter Magazine, right after Heath Evans' New Orlean Saints won the Super Bowl. He's is a great guy and one of the easiest people to interview. His story was also one of the easiest ones I've ever written. His wife and he have persevered through so much that telling their story and plight to end child sexual abuse became sort of my responsibility. Their story is below:





Saint Heath

By definition, NFL fullback Heath Evans’ role is to clear the path ahead. Little did he know, the hometown hero had to clear a personal path much greater than any obstacle the gridiron could offer.


The Saints’ training room erupts with laughter on this recent Friday afternoon. Snickers, chides and jokes are all directed at one man: fullback Heath Evans, the nine-year NFL veteran who’s rehabbing from a torn ACL and medial meniscus suffered in week seven. He just announced to teammates that he e-mailed producers of “The Real Housewives” reality TV show series, who were looking to cast down in the Big Easy, throwing his wife’s name into contention for the possible New Orleans cast.

“You wouldn’t be mad at your wife for being on TV?” someone asks.

“Man, I’ve got the most beautiful wife in the world,” Heath challenges. “There’s not an insecure bone in her body about how much I love her, nor in my body about her.”

But what his teammates might not know is at one point, insecurity did threaten Heath’s relationship with his wife Beth Ann. You see, Beth Ann Evans was molested when she was in the third grade.

And that changed everything.


* * *


After playing for the Seahawks, Dolphins and Patriots, it’s fitting Heath is now on a team called the Saints. A member of the Who Dat Nation and the Super Bowl-winning Saints, Heath undoubtedly lives up to the team’s moniker. A good-natured, quasi-Southern boy with an easy charm and affable personality, he’s approached his wife’s recovery from sexual abuse just like he would a linebacker – at full strength.


A 6-foot, 250-pound behemoth of a man, Heath grew up in West Palm Beach and was a two-time All-State tailback for the private school, The King’s Academy. Raised in what he describes as an “action Christianity” home where his family lived the Christian faith “out to the best of their ability,” Heath says he dreamed of playing in the NFL since he was 4. He left South Florida to enroll at Auburn University, becoming a featured back on Tommy Tuberville’s team. While at school, he met a pretty blonde from Alabama named Beth Ann.


“Heath and I officially met my senior year at my dad’s [automotive] business,” Beth Ann details in an e-mail. “Heath came in while I was working at the front desk, and he told me he was going to marry me. I laughed at him! He then asked my dad for permission to ask me on a date, which completely won over my entire family. Our first date was a Bible study at FCA [the Fellowship of Christian Athletes], and the rest is history.”


The two met on March 4, 2001, and by July 14, 2001, they were married. By all standards, Heath and Beth Ann were in the perfect marriage: two kind, generous, all-American lookers with huge aspirations, both as individuals and as a couple. But as their marriage progressed, they both knew something wasn’t right.


Heath remembers first hearing of Beth Ann’s painful experience during a car ride from Auburn to Florida to visit his parents while the two were still dating.


“She literally just said it so nonchalantly, just in passing: ‘You know I was sexually abused when I was a little girl, right?’” Heath recasts. “I remember leaning over to her and saying, ‘I’m so sorry, Beth.’ I didn’t know what else to say. I expressed my remorse for her, but I didn’t dive deeper. I had only known her about a month and a half at the time, and didn’t really want to hurt her or wound her worse.


“Call it my stupidity or call it naivety to the subject, but I never brought it up again. By the world’s standards, she was a 5’8 ½’’, 5’9’’ smoking hot, beautiful blond woman who was a 4.0 college student in marketing, wanted to go to law school as soon as she graduated, with the world by its tail. So visibly – even to the degree that she let me into her emotional world – I saw nothing.”


As the Evanses reveal, an emotional wall was built between the two. “The first couple of years were tough, it was emotionally trying. For me, I couldn’t do anything right,” Heath, 31, says. “I thought, ‘I don’t know how to touch her, I don’t know how to talk to her, I don’t know how to love her, I don’t know how to communicate with her,’ all these different things.”


Heath stayed by his wife’s side and did what he always does best: barrel through the massive roadblocks ahead to clear the path for Beth Ann. As a couple, they sought guidance and help from family members and church leaders, and Beth Ann later went to professional therapy. The couple found a Christian-based counselor who Beth Ann says gave her newfound hope. She began peeling off the two decades-plus of self-loathing and guardedness that made close relationships difficult for her to achieve. Slowly, very slowly, Beth Ann got better.


“I thought this was going to take decades to fix because, really, she had close to 20 years of ‘thinking-thinking,’” Heath says. “But I’m telling you, man, her progress really has so surpassed what I envisioned.”


Today, the Evanses – parents to 5-year-old Ava Grace and 3-year-old Naomi Reece – look to help others ease the pain and anguish of being sexually abused. In 2006, they set up the Heath Evans Foundation in Palm Beach County with the goal of bringing hope and healing to families and victims of sexual abuse by way of professional counseling and through programs and services to treat those at risk, free of charge. Staffed by two full-time administrative members and a dozen or so volunteers, the foundation has helped close to 80 families.


“Once we found that kind of the counseling care that Beth Ann needed and responded to… we said, ‘How can we keep this to ourselves? How can we, knowing that the statistics are one out of four young girls in this country before the age of 18 is going to be sexually abused, and one out of every six young boys?’” Heath says with a sense of agitation. “If those are the statistics we are battling, how can we afford to keep our mouths shut and say, ‘We got Beth Ann help, and that’s all that really matters’?”


To raise funds and awareness, the foundation holds two major events every year. In the summer, Heath holds his annual 7-on-7 high school football championship, one of the largest of its kind in the nation. Florida schools are invited to compete and also meet some of the biggest names in football. Past football celebrities include Randy Moss, Wes Welker and Zach Thomas. There, Heath also gets the chance to speak to the more than 400 youths, motivating them to be upstanding citizens.


The second event is the Softball Showdown. Born out of a running joke between Pro-Bowl wide receiver Randy Moss and members of the Palm Beach County SWAT team, the event pits athletes like Moss and Dolphins players Channing Crowder and Tony Fasano against the officers in a good ol’ fashion slugfest. The showdown takes place at Roger Dean Stadium, and, as Heath aptly puts it, takes “the game of softball to an all-new low.”


Last year, the foundation raised about $400,000, an amount that foundation president Glenn Martin says is a good start and one they can build upon.


Martin, who incidentally was Heath’s former teacher at The King’s Academy, says seeing the now-NFL star mature from a young student to a professional athlete and community activist has been exhilarating. At last year’s 7-on-7 championship, Martin remembers a mother and father of two young boys, both autistic and both victims of sexual abuse, walk up to Heath.


“The mother was literally hiding behind the father when they walked up to Heath,” Martin says. “They told him how their family was affected, and they just broke down in tears. Heath hugged both of them and said it was going to be OK. And, they believed him.”


For Heath – who stays in Palm Beach Gardens during the offseason – it’s just a way to give back to his hometown. As he puts it:


“We just want Palm Beach County to be saturated with the name Heath Evans; to know that there is a kid from our county who came back and gave back and wanted to protect the younger generation of Palm Beach County from pedophiles.


“Ten years down the road in this nation, when [people] hear of Heath Evans, I could care less if they think of the 10-, 12-, 14-year NFL veteran, whatever it ends up being when I retire. But if they say, ‘Oh, that’s where you go if your child is sexually abused,’ I will be the happiest man in the world.”


And as for Beth Ann, she’s come a long way from suffering the constant stomachaches that prevented her from going to school, developing close relationships and connecting with her husband in the early years of their marriage. Heath says some days are better than others. But that’s not enough for this Saint. No, he’ll keep marching on until all her days are better.



Monday, November 1, 2010

Weekend Warrior

Two significant things happened to me this weekend: 1) I cycled more than 8 miles. Continuously. 2) I met Dan Marino.

For the former, I had the inane idea that to get to this year's Fort Lauderdale Boast Show, my boyfriend and I should cycle the 8+ miles. The original thought was to avoid the craziness of finding parking and the hike-up parking costs. It sounded like such a great idea. It really did. But about 5 miles in, it really didn't sound that good of an idea. My poor fitness and endurance combined with a near cloudless sky kind of did me in.

The worst part about it all? I didn't factor in that we needed to trek the 8+ miles back home. Arg!

Anyhoos, the Boat Show was beyond extravagant. After bypassing the yachts, I decided the mega-yachts were the way to go. Right.

Check out the newest addition to my holiday wish list:



And yes, that is a waterslide on the yacht. I mentioned to my boyfriend that kids would love that amenity. His response? "Kids?! Shoot, I'd use that slide all the time."

For the second significant event, it involved my childhood football hero, Dan Marino. Growing up near Jacksonville, Fla., I watched the Dolphins every fall Sunday. It was before the Jacksonville Jaguars became an expansion team, and the Dolphins were the closet to us. My father, brothers and I (invariably my mom excused herself Sunday afternoons) were glued to the T.V. watching Marino lead the Dolphins. Not to get all profound or anything, but I'm not sure if I'd be such a big football fan without watching Marino throw to O.J. McDuffie every week or cheering the defensive play of Troy Vincent.

So when I actually got the chance to converse with Marino, well, it was pretty awesome. We were at the Fort Lauderdale Historical Society's Founder's Dinner honoring Wayne Huizenga this past Friday. Marino was one of the event's presenters. But before the program began, cocktail hour (ah, the omnipotent cocktail hour and open bar) was to be held. And, that's where I met Dan the Man.

My boyfriend and I were at the bar waiting to order a drink (we were maybe second or third in line). And then Dan Marino walks up. Er, saunters up. I've heard stories about Dan from friends and friends of friends. Unfortunately my childhood football idol was not seen in a favorable light to them (i.e., bullying his way through traffic lanes on U.S. 1, etc.). Still, I'd like to make up my own mind about people, and tonight I was getting the chance to finally do so.

After about 20 seconds of awkwardness knowing that Dan the Man was literally 1 inch away from us, my boyfriend broke the proverbial ice by saying, "Hi, I'm Josh," and extending his hand for a shake. Surprisingly, Dan the Man shook hands with us and was a complete gentleman. We conversed. Small talk, sure, but we conversed. I even asked #13 to QB my flag football team. And, he didn't say no! "I can throw, but don't count on my to do much running," he said. Awesome. Really awesome.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Final thoughts on Ireland

To wrap it up, Ireland is definitely not the place where my family comes from. Far from it. However, I wouldn't have been all that upset if they had.

To copy an Esquire column, here's what I've learned about Ireland:

1. Bring a coat. No matter the time of year. The strongest wind I ever saw was the wind from Ireland.

2. Go cycling. I went cycling in Galway and County Clare, and, to quote my cycle guide Noel, it was unlike any experience one could feel from the motorcoach. Your touch on the land is uninhibited. It's ridiculous how beautiful the terrain is. Mountains are reflecting off the water's top in absolute clarity.

3. The cycling ride is better when your guide looks like a cross between George Clooney and Owen Wilson.



4. The cycling ride is even better on high-end Cannondales. This Florida gal's not used to riding bikes on all these hills and inclines, so undoubtedly my quads appreciated the good steed.

5. Bring your camera. Everywhere. I forgot mine at key moments. And no, I'm still not over it.

I managed to get some more photos in, though. Enjoy!

Me at The Burrens

A sign at the Cliffs of Moher, a range that's 400 feet high and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean (and apparently the final destination of those who aren't very careful)... I was told some tourists fell over the cliffs last year when the wind picked them up. Don't know if it's true, but as the Irish say, "Never let the truth get in the way of a story."

Another sign at the Cliffs of Moher

The watchtower at the Cliffs of Moher

Me at the Cliffs of Moher

Ah! The sport of kings, falconry, comes alive at Dromoland Castle. Here, Dave Atkinson (who runs the School of Falconry) holds Limerick, a rescued peregrine.



Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Day 3 in Ireland: Fly fishing

The hotel I'm staying at, Ballynahich Castle, has a resident fishing instructor, or ghillie as the Scots call him. Cyril Baggins is his name, and fishing is his game.

For those who've never fly fished, it's a funny sport. I was told time and time again that "the rod and you are one," meaning the fishing rod should just be an extension of my arm. Well, I don't know about you, but it's odd thinking a 9-ft pole is an extension of my appendage. Unlike spin-casting, there's little to no use of your wrist. There's no bait, just a fly.

When done properly, casting is a very graceful action. I kept on awkwardly casting and casting my line on the river that's just outside the hotel. The salmon and trout were probably thinking, "What the heck is going on up there?"

Needless to say, I didn't catch anything. However, I felt a snag -- or at least that's the story I'm sticking with.


The fish were no match for me and my Wayfarers!

Mr. Baggins and me (and yes, he's trying to cover up his laughter at my awkward technique)



The river we fished in, Ballynahich River

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Day 2 in Ireland

Day 2 in Ireland, and I've concluded I didn't bring enough warm clothes. It's something like 42 degrees Fahrenheit with whipping wind that makes it feel 10 degrees colder, and my Florida blood is thinning out. I knew I should have brought that coat!

From Dublin, we traveled west today -- to Connemara. Apparently we went to a bunch of other places too, but my short-term memory isn't serving me well. When I told Dubliners and others we were to go to Connemara, the reaction was all the same: "Hmmm... You'll be impressed." That I am, that I am.

Below are some snapshots of the day.


The stone crosses at Clonmacnoise, a 6th century monastery founded by St. Ciaran. It overlooks the River Shannon (not the Shannon River for all you Americans used to that word structure). Through the years, it was pillaged by vikings and the English. Like, over and over and over again. And each time, the monks would rebuild and rebuild.





Above is bog wood, a material that is literally centuries years old.

Today bog wood is used to formulate jewelry pieces like the ones above, among other creations.


A view of the exterior of the hotel, er, CASTLE, that I'm staying at tonight. Called Ballynahich Castle, it's currently owned by a Jacksonville, Fla., businessman.



Monday, October 18, 2010

Dublin, Ireland

I already have my lede for my pending article about my current trip to Ireland. Tell me what you think:

I've always wanted to find out more about my roots, my heritage. And to do so, I decided to go to Ireland...

There's more to it, but you'll just have to wait for the article. In the meantime, I can update you on what I did today.

Our tour guide, Pat Liddy, said one thing that will forever stick with me about Dubliners: "Drivers here tend to see pedestrians as targets, and they want to get them." Boy, did I learn the hard way. After a couple unsightly encounters with Audis and BMWs, I learned that I needed to stick with the Irish and cross when they cross.

Other than that, Dublin's been a great introduction to Ireland and its people. It's a pretty metropolitan town, and it doesn't hurt that I'm staying at a hotel just off Grafton Street, one of the city's most popular shopping spots.

The popular Grafton Street (behind all the people and flowers is my hotel, Westbury)

Irish thinker, author and quoter, Oscar Wilde

Trinity College, one of Ireland's most prestigious, is home to about 16,000 students and nearly the same quantity of bicycles.

Our tour guide, Pat Liddy, not surprisingly dressed like a true Irishman in a Burberry trench coat

Sunday, October 17, 2010

On My Way

I forgot what day it was, but last week the "Today Show" had a segment on the dangers of posting your geographic status on Facebook and other forms of social media. For example, posting you're on your way to the Dolphins game, or about to walk into a concert, or something like that. They had a young adult female on the segment who spoke of her woes after posting she was at so-and-so place, basically alerting robbers (aka Facebook friends) that her place was empty.

You'd think I'd learn from that segment, right? Rarely do I post where I am at, but I feel compelled to share that: I. Am. Going. To. Ireland!!!

So for all those people looking to rob my place now that I've publicly posted my whereabouts, rest assured. You'd be wasting your time. There's not much for you to steal. Other than the two secondhand couches I got from Goodwill and my "renovated" entertainment center that my old roommate literally hacked the top off of (think "Dexter" when imagining my roomie's slaughter of the entertainment center's wood frame), the material items I'm leaving behind are, well, reflective of my own shopping habits: cheap.

Oh, but if you so dare think of trying me, I have insurance. And it comes in the form of a sub-180 pound boyfriend who's still recovering from major knee surgery. Yeah, son.