Dear Editor:
The adage “only the good die young” could not be more suitably correct than when referring to a young man named T.J. Ciaccia. To say T.J. had a heart of gold would be doing him an injustice. T.J’s heart was more like pure platinum. He was that special. T.J. was, in fact, that wonderful.
Although I never had the privilege of coaching T.J., I had the joy of some beautiful memories back in his little league days. One memory in particular stands out more than any other. It was when T.J.’s team played against mine. T.J. was doing the catching, and I was the opposing coach down the 3rd base line. One of my players suddenly got hit by a pitch and went down hard. Before I could even get to the plate, T.J. was already comforting my player. Shortly thereafter, my player was up on his feet and started hobbling toward 1st base. As I turned my head and made my way back toward the 3rd base coaching box, someone called my named and I turned around to discover that my player had fallen down before ever reaching 1st base. Fortunately, there was already a coach there kneeling down beside him. As I ran across the field, I discovered that the person I thought was a coach attending my player was in fact T.J. Ciaccia.
The following inning I said to T.J., “He took some shot there, huh?” T.J. replied, “I am just glad he is okay.” It was T.J. initially consoling this younger boy, and it was T.J. at his side when he fell once again. T.J.’s reply to my quote simply personified the caliber of human being T.J. represented. How can you not admire a boy of that age with such genuine compassion for others?
Now that T.J. has passed, we all share this terribly empty feeling of sadness from within. “Thank you T.J. for being exactly who you were – a truly warm, caring and compassionate young man with a heart of pure platinum.”
Scott Alberg