Think About It:
Celebrating the life of a lost friend

Thurman Munson was a catcher for the 1970s New York Yankees, for whom he wore the number 15. He was never much of a showboat, and he never embarrassed himself. He came out every day and played as well as he could. Many said he was the heart and soul of the Yankees during his tenure with the team. Ten years into his professional career, he died in a plane crash. He was mourned not only by his team, but also by the entire professional baseball community, not to mention a plethora of fans. He was a stand-up guy who led quietly from behind the plate.

John Kostic was an outstanding Rider student, a resident advisor (RA) and a Sigma Phi Epsilon brother. He was never much of a showboat and he was the guy who would say, in that low-key, yet insistent voice of his, to stop and think for a moment before doing something he knew you’d regret. Having lived in Olson, I can say that he was the heart and soul of those under his care. Three-and-a-half years into his college career, just shy of twenty-one years into his life, he died in a car crash. He was mourned by not only his residents and his brothers, but also by the entire Rider community. He was a stand-up guy who never backed down from a difficult situation, and was guided by his faith and by his own sense of right and wrong.

I was nearly late to John’s memorial Mass on Sunday, Nov. 27, and expected to sit by myself, as I was sure I wouldn’t know anyone there. I was ushered in to see a crowd that filled Gill Chapel from end to end, and even the standing room was tight. I realized how special John had been to the community.

My room is just down the hall from John’s. I had no idea of the number of lives he’d touched until after his death. After John passed away, Olson RHA turned a night he had scheduled as a program for his residents into an informal gathering of his friends and family. We shared stories about him, and it was through these stories that John’s picture became clearer to me, and I’m sure to many other people as well. He held his RA post with zeal and dignity, yet his room was covered with Star Wars and Transformers figures. He was generous to a fault, yet would often wait until late at night to go to Applebee’s so he could get half-price appetizers. He had arguments for every subject from Captain Kirk to Jesus. In short, he was the kind of student we think of when we idealize college life.

In the home locker room at Yankee Stadium, space is at a premium. With so many players, coaches and personnel, this is hardly surprising. Yet there is one locker in which nothing remains but the number 15. Neither Ruth nor Mantle have this honor; only the quiet Munson. I’d like to think that, while we can’t preserve his dorm room, if we all try to keep a little bit of John’s heart and humanity in mind, Rider will be a better place. Rest in peace, John. We’ll miss you very much.

— JP Krahel