Oct. 16, 2007
Lucas: Tears For A Ram
By Adam Lucas
Everyone thinks they knew Jason Ray.
In the eight thick photo albums--each containing approximately 250 personal notes each--that occupy a corner of his parents' home in Concord, many of the notes contain a reference to a personal encounter with Ray as Rameses.
What the writers may not realize is that Ray wasn't always in the mascot costume. Maybe he was studying that night. Or maybe he had traded off with another of the mascots during halftime.
But to them--to most of Tar Heel nation--Ray was Rameses.
"He took a picture with my son..."
"He danced with my mother..."
"He held my baby..."
These are the notes people send. His parents read them two or three at a time. That's all they can get through, even seven months after the accident that took their son's life. Sometimes they learn things about their son.
"I don't think we realized he was such a leader on campus," says Allen Ray, Jason's older brother. "As big a personality as he had, he was very humble about certain things. He would brag a lot about Carolina sports. But the events and the Bible class he was teaching and everything else he was doing, he never talked about. If you asked, he would tell you. But he never put it in your face. We got all kinds of letters from groups and people he was involved with that he never made a big deal about at all."
His family has learned about Jason Ray. And now, perhaps, it is our turn. By now, you know he was an organ donor (if you haven't already, take some time to read this story from ESPN.com--Ray will also be featured on tonight's "E:60," an ESPN newsmagazine, at 7 p.m.). He has saved multiple lives. You've read about him. You've probably cried for him. But did you know this?
Jason Ray grew up a Kentucky fan.
Can that be right? Can the very personification of the University of North Carolina, Rameses himself, really have Wildcat heritage?
Well, yes. And no.
"Our whole family is from Kentucky and we're all Kentucky fans," says Allen Ray. "Jason was, too...until he stepped on Carolina's campus as a senior for his visit. He came back home that night and he was a Carolina fan. Kentucky was no longer anywhere close to as good as Carolina. He started buying Carolina clothing right away and started giving us all a hard time about Kentucky."
Now that's the Jason Ray we know.
Probably, his family would have received significant community support if Jason had just been the mascot. It's a very public, if anonymous, position.
But they have received much more than significant community support. They have received a flood of support. Three thousand people came to his wake. One thousand people packed into his funeral. And that's not because of what he did as the mascot, but what he did when he wasn't being the mascot.
"We're setting up a scholarship in Jason's name," says Allen Ray. "We're still trying to figure out what the criteria might be. Finding someone who is a business major, a leader in InterVarsity, and the lead singer in a rock band might be a little tough."
Jason did all those things and still found time to travel the country with Carolina sports. He loved it, and he wasn't above calling his brother with an update on his latest exploits.
"Yeah, I'm in Cleveland," he said in a phone call to his brother from Cleveland when traveling with the women's basketball team during the 2006 regionals. "I'm getting ready to go to the pool with the cheerleaders."
Allen Ray didn't have to see him. He knew--his brother's smile was almost visible over the telephone.
Those phone conversations always ended the same way: "I love you." Except for the last one.
The last time Allen talked to Jason, on Tuesday, March 20, there was a howling wind on Jason's end.
"Jason, call me back when you're not standing up in a convertible," Allen said with a laugh.
"I get it," Jason said. And then he hung up. They left messages for each other the rest of the week but never connected. On Friday, Ray was talking to another of his brothers, John Porter. "We've got the game tonight," Jason said of that night's regional semifinal against Southern Cal. "I'm going to go get a burrito and a Coke right now."
Ten minutes later, just ten minutes after the most ordinary of conversations, he was struck by a car. It seems impossible that anyone's life--any family's life--could change that much in just ten minutes. Imagine how that would impact your family.
On second thought, don't imagine it. You can't.
Jason Ray would be pronounced dead three days later.
"It bothers me some," Allen says of their last conversation. "But I know Jason didn't think anything about it. He thought we'd be talking an hour later. That's how it always was.
"People who would hear our conversations would be amazed. They'd hear ten minutes of us going back and forth about Carolina and Kentucky, really ragging on each other. Name-calling and all kinds of abuse. Then, right at the end, they'd hear me say, `I love you,' and he'd say the same thing. They didn't understand it. But now they do. You never let one of those opportunities go by."
Jason's family has established the Jason Kendall Ray Foundation, which soon will endow a UNC scholarship in his name. For more information on the foundation and to make a contribution, click here.
Adam Lucas most recently collaborated on a behind-the-scenes look at Carolina Basketball with Wes Miller. The Road To Blue Heaven will be released on October 1. Lucas's other books on Carolina basketball include The Best Game Ever, which chronicles the 1957 national championship season, Going Home Again, which focuses on Roy Williams's return to Carolina, and Led By Their Dreams, a collaboration with Steve Kirschner and Matt Bowers on the 2005 championship team.
