Paul Joseph Haggerty

West Point, 1991

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Daniel Zene Crowe on April 4, 2003:

At school, Hags and I could not have been more different: athletic and charming Irish kid versus bookish and awkward Oregonian. Although both Mooses, we had never been close. I just think he never knew what to make of me, although he was as effortlessly charming with me as with everyone. Cow year, I allowed myself to be talked into playing intramural lacrosse, a sport about which I had never ever heard before coming back East. I would be our goalie. We would therefore have to outscore our opponents. The hockey players, of which we had several, also joined the team. Hags was Talented, an athletic quality I had never observed first-hand. He was natural and effortless in his gracefulness, and there is something fundamentally different about seeing that as participant rather than spectator. He was our unquestioned leader. Along with Chris Kindgren, they always managed to score more goals than I allowed ... and I allowed many. In the double regimental final, Hags scored again and again, stealing the ball time after time and firing it into the other company's net. But the other company had some ringers of its own and shelled me mercilessly as well. At the end of the game, in a span of forty-five seconds, Hags scored three goals, which I had not even thought possible in lacrosse. Steal, shoot, score, steal, shoot, score, steal, shoot, score. But it was not enough to overcome my goals allowed. So we lost, and it had been my fault. When time was finally called, I could not even look my teammates in the eye. I had given up so many goals, so pathetically, that I expected a tongue-lashing from our Captain and leader. As we gathered around our goal, through a veil of barely-concealed tears, I mumbled an apology. I had failed the team. I had failed him. It was the end of our season. There was nothing to stop him from unloading on me. And he said, in his gruff and tender voice: "It wasn't your fault. We're a team and we lost as a team." I will never forget his composure and his grace at that moment. It was No Big Deal; the sun would rise tomorrow. I often reflect on that moment of years ago and wonder why it has remained so clear in my mind. To me, it captured Paul's humility and kindness, qualities that were always present but never advertised, his seriousness and his mercy. You simply Didn't Take It Out on the Goalie, stange creatures who live in a world of their own anyway (I was at least well-qualified in that regard). As the years go by, I find that I miss him more. He has not faded in my mind, but has become more present. West Point wanted us to believe that the best leaders were those most academically proficient. Hags was not an academician by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a serious man where serious matters required it. He was young and strong and vital, and he will remain that way as I grow older and time takes its inevitable toll on my body and my mind. As you grow older, the regrets of your life pile upon themselves. I regret that I did not know him better. I realize now that Paul Haggerty -- son and father, husband and brother -- manifested God's grace and kindness in his everyday life. I regret that I never realized that until he was gone. He is sorely missed.

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