Growing up in Philadelphia, one of the most vibrant cities in the country, has shaped who I am—my values, my relationships, and my dreams. This city isn’t just a backdrop to my story—it’s the heart of it. From the buzz of game day to late-night subway rides with friends, Philly’s energy and culture have been a constant source of inspiration. One of the most powerful influences has been the city’s sports culture. Living close to Lincoln Financial Field, Citizens Bank Park, and the Wells Fargo Center meant I didn’t just watch games—I lived them. My friends and I would hop on the Broad Street Line, jerseys on, hearts racing. For us, heading to South Philly for a game wasn’t a special occasion; it was what weekends were made of. That kind of access made the dream of becoming an athlete feel real. Watching Philly athletes—tough, passionate, and loyal—ignited something in me. I didn’t just admire their skill; I admired their grit. I wanted to play like them, train like them, and represent something bigger than myself. That drive pushed me to give everything I had to my own athletic journey. In Philly, being an athlete isn’t just about performance—it’s about pride and perseverance. That mindset shaped me. But Philly gave me more than sports. It gave me freedom. Thanks to public transportation, my friends and I explored the city on our own terms. Whether grabbing cheesesteaks in South Philly or just riding the subway home from a game, we learned independence. We figured out how to navigate the city, how to stay aware, and how to appreciate the people and cultures around us. Those experiences helped me grow up with confidence and awareness. Philadelphia’s diversity also played a huge role in shaping my worldview. This city is a mix of cultures, stories, and voices. From murals in North Philly to the cobblestones of Old City, it feels like every block has something to teach you. I’ve seen how shared passions—whether sports, music, or food—bring people together, even when their backgrounds are totally different. That taught me to value empathy and community. I’ve learned to never take opportunities for granted and to always respect the hustle behind every success. The relationships I’ve built here are just as meaningful. Philly friendships run deep. From basketball games in the park to walks through Center City, the bonds I’ve made are strong and real. These are the people who’ve pushed me, supported me, and kept me grounded. We’ve shared setbacks and victories, and through it all, we’ve helped each other grow. That sense of brotherhood is something I carry with me every day. As I look ahead, I know I want to give back to the city that gave me so much. My dream of becoming a major athlete isn’t just about making it big—it’s about inspiring the next generation of kids in neighborhoods like mine. I want to show them that success is possible, that with hard work and heart, they can achieve their goals too. In the end, Philadelphia is more than where I’m from—it’s part of who I am. It’s in the way I move, the way I think, and the way I dream. It gave me role models, independence, resilience, and a community that feels like family. And no matter where life takes me, I’ll always carry that Philly fire.

When my parents divorced, I was too young to fully understand what was happening. One day my dad was there, and the next, he was gone—just a name I barely recognized, a face that eventually blurred out in old photographs and faint memories. I didn’t get a chance to know him, and that absence became a permanent space in my life. While some might think that kind of loss leads to emptiness, for me, it became fuel. I turned that pain, confusion, and emotional chaos into energy that pushed me into athletics. Sports became the outlet where I could process everything I couldn’t say out loud. Growing up without a real connection to my father created a lot of emotional weight. There were birthdays with an empty chair, school events where I watched other kids high-five their dads, and late nights wondering why he never came back. I didn’t just miss having a father—I missed the guidance, the protection, and the identity that often comes with having that male role model in your life. I’d hear people say, “You look just like your dad,” and I wouldn’t even know how to respond. I didn’t even know the man. I didn’t know what he liked, how he laughed, or what made him tick. The absence left a hole, but it also created space—space that I filled with movement, discipline, and grit. Sports became more than just something to do after school. They became a way of life. Every sprint, every lift, every long practice was like therapy for me. The field or the gym was the one place I felt in control, where I wasn’t just “the kid whose dad left.” I was an athlete. I was powerful. I was building something from the very broken pieces of my family. There’s a certain type of energy that comes from a broken home. It’s not always visible, but it’s always there, running under the surface like a quiet storm. At home, I felt tension. There were arguments, silences, financial stress, and emotional weight hanging over everything. I didn’t want to be around it. So, I stayed at practice longer. I trained harder. I started running to clear my head and lifting to feel stronger—stronger than my circumstances, stronger than the sadness I didn’t always know how to express. Sports gave me an identity my family situation couldn’t. When people saw me perform, they didn’t see the broken kid—they saw an athlete with fire in their eyes. That bad energy, the kind that comes from feeling abandoned or unheard, transformed into drive. I didn’t want to be a victim of my parents’ choices. I wanted to be something more. And sports gave me that platform. Still, the emotional impact of not knowing my father stuck with me. There were so many unanswered questions—why he never reached out, why he didn’t try, and whether he even thought about me. At times, it felt like I wasn’t enough for him to stay. That kind of thought can break someone. But instead of letting it define me, I let it motivate me. I promised myself that I would be the kind of person who showed up, who stayed, who didn’t leave people wondering if they mattered. In some ways, the divorce made me emotionally tougher. I had to grow up faster. I learned how to navigate pain and disappointment at a young age, which made me resilient on and off the field. I developed a thick skin, not just from coaches yelling or teammates pushing me, but from life hitting me early. And even when it hurt, I knew I had a choice: let the pain defeat me, or let it mold me. Over time, I realized that being fatherless didn’t mean I was less than. I had a different story, sure, but it gave me depth. It made me hungry. It made me appreciate the people who did show up in my life—coaches, teachers, mentors, even teammates who became like family. And it made every win sweeter, because I knew what I had to overcome to get there. My parents’ divorce carved out a version of me that understands how to work through pain, how to turn emotion into motion, and how to rise above. I still carry the scars from that time in my life, but they don’t control me. If anything, they remind me of how far I’ve come. I may never know my real dad, and maybe that will always sting a little. But through athletics, I found a path forward. I turned bad energy into strength, and loss into legacy. And now, every time I step on the field, I’m not just playing for wins. I’m playing for the kid who refused to be broken.

Life has a way of humbling you—on the wrestling mat and beyond. Every time I step onto the mat, I’m reminded of how wrestling reflects the challenges we face in everyday life. It’s not just a sport; it’s a mirror, revealing who we are under pressure and teaching us how to grow through pain, persistence, and purpose. Wrestling has taught me the importance of staying calm in the face of adversity. There have been moments in matches when everything felt like it was falling apart—when my body was exhausted, the scoreboard wasn’t in my favor, and my opponent seemed unstoppable. But in those moments, I learned to breathe, to stay focused, and to keep pushing forward. That same lesson has carried into other parts of my life. Whether it’s facing academic pressure, family responsibilities, or personal setbacks, I’ve learned to stay composed, assess the situation, and fight through it with everything I have. Throughout my wrestling journey, I’ve faced both victories and defeats. The wins are great—they bring a sense of accomplishment and confidence. But the losses? Those are where the real growth happens. I’ve learned to analyze my mistakes, embrace constructive criticism, and come back stronger. Wrestling has shown me that failure isn’t final—it’s a necessary step on the path to improvement. That mindset has changed how I view obstacles in life. Now, I see challenges not as threats but as opportunities to get better. One of the most meaningful milestones in my journey was being named captain of my wrestling team. Being a captain isn’t just about leading warm-ups or shouting encouragement during matches—it’s about setting a standard, both on and off the mat. It’s about being the first one in and the last one out, showing up with integrity, and creating a culture of support and accountability. As captain, I learned to lead by example, to motivate others through actions more than words, and to lift my teammates when they were down. I’ve become more self-aware, more responsible, and more empathetic. Being a leader on the team also helped me grow in other areas of my life. It’s made me a better student, learning to manage my time, set priorities, and stay disciplined. It’s made me a better son—someone who understands the value of commitment, respect, and hard work. And it’s made me a better friend—learning to listen, encourage, and support those around me through their own battles. There have been countless moments that have shaped me along the way—grueling practices, early-morning weigh-ins, late-night bus rides after tough losses. But every single one of those moments has added to the person I’m becoming. Wrestling has taught me to embrace the grind, to find strength in struggle, and to never stop chasing improvement. It’s an endless journey of growth, and I’m grateful for every step of it. Whether I’m in the classroom, at home, or with my friends, the lessons I’ve learned on the mat are always with me. I carry the discipline, the resilience, and the humility that wrestling has instilled in me. More than anything, I’ve learned that greatness isn’t about being perfect—it’s about showing up every day, giving everything you have, and lifting others along the way. That’s what being a wrestler means to me. That’s what being a leader means to me. And that’s the mindset I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

First and foremost, thank you for considering me for this generous gift in Anthony's honor. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know your helping a fellow "meathead" in their pursuit of college and in my case, hopefully college athletics. My name is Jayden Jordan-Loran, I am a current senior at Academy at Palumbo in Philadelphia, PA, and will be graduating in 2025. I am a multi-event athlete at Palumbo and in the past three years, I’ve thrown 125 feet in the discus, 155 feet in the javelin, and also started pole vaulting for the first time towards the end of my junior year, I also do long jump and sprint. I am currently wrestling, while also competing in indoor track a few Sundays per month. I have worked hard all summer to prepare for my senior season, for which I have high expectations. I wanted to connect with you because I have been interested in sports for a while now. I submitted my application with the intention of carrying the torch for all athletes who may not have had the chance to extend their career. In regards to academics, I’ve taken on a strong curriculum this year, with AP Computer Science Principles, AP Government and Politics, AP Pre-Calculus, and English 4 Honors. I have maintained a 3.5 GPA for the past 3 and a half years while participating in 3 varsity sports, in addition to extracurricular activities. As a four-year varsity athlete in football, wrestling, and track and field, I have demonstrated discipline, resilience, and a commitment to excellence, earning All-Public honors, serving as a team captain, and mentoring younger athletes. I am also an active leader in my school community as a Griffin Ambassador, a member of the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee, and a representative at the Philadelphia Public Schools Sports Summit, where I advocated for athletic and academic improvements. My involvement in community service through Beat the Streets and school events reflects my passion for giving back and creating a positive, inclusive environment for peers and teammates. With strong skills in leadership, time management, communication, and teamwork, I strive to lead by example both on and off the field. I also know how much dedication and work it takes to be a college athlete, and I’m ready to improve my craft. Sports have given me almost everything I know, quite frankly, and that's why I'm not ready to let them go just yet. Sports have created the best of friends for me, and given me a family outside of my own biological family. Sports have taught me to be humble, how to take an L and get back up, and how to appreciate those around me as I am certainly not the only one who sacrifices. Most of all, I just really love sports and the energy they create amongst participants and fans alike. Thank you once again for my consideration, and may God continue to bless you, your family, and Anthony. Warmly, Jayden Jordan-Loran

Growing up as a first-generation student, I faced challenges that often felt insurmountable. Financial struggles, lack of education from my family, language barriers, and the pressure to succeed in an unfamiliar system created obstacles that tested my resilience. I realized at a young age that life wasn't that easy for my mom, either. She struggled her whole life with a learning disability and the fact that her parents were immigrants, and she had to learn on her own with no help from them due to the lack of education. They were working tirelessly to provide for the family, and she was doing the same but also trying her hardest to instill in me the belief that education was the key to breaking the cycle. Their sacrifices became my motivation. I watched them work long hours, often in physically demanding jobs. My mom helped me when I was a young child, and I can see how hard it was for her sometimes, but as I got older, there was a switch. At one point, I was teaching her what I was learning, and I did homework on my own. I understood that they were building a future for me that they never had for themselves. They encouraged me to prioritize school, sports, and theater, even when responsibilities at home made it difficult. There were times when I had to juggle academics with helping my family navigate a world they didn't always understand. Whether translating documents, working part-time to ease financial burdens, or proving that their sacrifices were not in vain, I Learned the value of perseverance. Despite the hardships, I remained committed to my education. I sought out mentors and every resource available. I took advantage of reaching out to my teachers, coaches, and school counselor. I am so grateful to have them; they always welcomed me despite their busy schedules. They became my family, too. I refused to let circumstances dictate my future. I would stay focused, prioritize this, and take all the skills I learned to build lifelong memories and continue moving forward. Being a first-generation student means more than just a narrative for my family and future generations. This scholarship represents more than just financial assistance; it recognizes my journey and the resilience I have developed. With this opportunity, I will continue to pursue my education, break barriers, and one day help others who walk the same path I have.

I'm really glad I came across this scholarship. My Father is also Italian, even though I'm half Irish and half Puerto Rican. My Father Tony Jordan came into my life when I was 3.5 years old, and took over the role when my biological left. Since "dad" was already taken, we just call each other Cuzzy as a term of endearment. I suppose it was a low-stress way to acknowledge the need for a special name, given the circumstances. Tony has shown me how to cook (carbonara is my favorite), how to love, and how to be a good person - you know, just be mindful and caring. He makes sure to remind me (to an annoying degree) of the little things that are important too; like looking someone in the eye when speaking to them, standing up to shake someone's hand, and being kind even when it's difficult. He does come from a long line of loving and supportive fathers who have showed up to all of their son's games, just like my Father does to mine. With the pandemic and the Philadelphia court backlog, my official adoption happened in February 2024, it was one of the best days ever. One of the reasons it took so long is that my biological father lives in Ireland, and there are more rigorous hurdles when someone isn't present, and they don't live in the country. I guess it's a good thing, but it does make it harder to terminate someone's parental rights and that was the first step before Tony could adopt me along with my biological Mother, Yvette who has always been in my life. Fast-forward to after the adoption, I could finally get my passport (I'll save the government passport delay story for another time). Tony always wanted to go back to Italy, and the feeling grew stronger after his grandparents died around the same time. When we were planning the trip, he asked me if I wanted to try and reach out to any of my family in Ireland while we were over there, since that's where my biological uncles, cousins, and father live on that side of my family. I was hesitant at first, but I warmed to the idea and we made it happen. It dawned on me how difficult that must have been for Tony, kind of going into foreign territory, and not only going in, but paying for the trip and standing by my side so that I would be a bit more comfortable meeting these people for the first time. It turned out that everyone was amazing and showed so much love, and respect to both of my parents. They knew that their brother/son had abandoned me when I was young, but they could tell I had a good upbringing. Unfortunately, my biological father didn't show up to the planned meeting. That one stung and continues to sting, but it did make me realize even more, that the one guy I need in my corner, has been in my corner since I can remember. He's far from perfect, but he's perfect for me. I even took his middle name, and dropped my Irish last name. Jayden Pasquale Jordan-Loran, hopefully you read about me doing big things one day! Thank you for considering me for this scholarship. I'd be remiss if I didn't end on the "Dad joke" that Tony always says when he meets someone with the same name, "Tony huh? Boy, I'll tell ya, I've heard a lot of names in my day, but that's the best one I've heard yet!".

I'd like to start by acknowledging Brian, and your efforts to honor him. I'm sure he would've really liked that a fellow meathead has the chance to receive such an honor, and receive help to pay for school in his memory. That's pretty cool if you ask me. My parents didn't let me play football, until I finally talked them into it my freshman year. 4 Years later, I have found my calling amongst my brothers-in-arms and it has shaped me into the person I am today, more than any other singular activity. I'm not the biggest or the fastest, but being out on the field with my guys, and knowing that it's us against the world, is one of the best feelings in the world. Football has taught me a some very important things: 1) You have to trust in others, as hard as it may be 2) Others will trust in you, and your effort and decisions could affect others both negatively and positively 3) Often times, hard work outperforms talent 4) The color of your skin doesn't matter on the field (bonus points for this one) Being that I started my football career so late, I had to really play catchup and work extra hard to make my varsity team in the Philadelphia Public League. Thankfully, I've had a great support staff with my coaches and my Father, so I've been able to work really hard to get myself in a position to try out for the football team in college. I know I won't be starting as a freshman, or probably even a sophomore, but I can't wait to get back out on the field and just be a part of the family and share the passion with my teammates. As I write this, I realize it's not the easiest thing to summarize the feeling and rush that one gets from playing football. I guess you have to truly be a part of football to understand the feeling. I guess that's why it's so special, and why Brian loved the sport so much, just like the rest of us who leave it all on the field. Football even makes the pain from a game feel better, like a weird badge of honor. I mean, what kind of love has someone walking around with a huge black and blue lump on their thigh, limping in pain, but yet can have a perma-smile at the same time? Football can. Thank you for your consideration, and thank you for your generosity towards the lucky recipient whoever it turns out to be. This was a fun scholarship to apply for, and I'm sure whoever wins will be appreciative of you and your family's thoughtfulness. Warmly, Jayden Jordan-Loran

If you were to ask me which movie has shaped my life the most, I wouldn’t hesitate to answer: The Goonies. This 1985 classic, directed by Richard Donner and produced by Steven Spielberg, isn’t just a fun adventure film about a group of misfit kids searching for treasure. For me, it’s a symbol of perseverance, friendship, and the courage to overcome obstacles—values that have not only inspired my childhood but continue to shape who I am today. Growing up, I often felt like the underdog. Much like the characters in The Goonies, I didn’t always fit the mold of what society expected from me. Whether it was in sports, school, or even personal challenges, I found myself constantly fighting to prove my worth and navigate the world around me. Mikey, the optimistic leader of the Goonies, became my quiet role model. Despite all the odds against him and his friends, he never gave up on their mission. His belief that there was something more out there, beyond the confines of his everyday life, mirrored my own belief that hard work and determination could help me achieve anything. One of the most powerful themes of The Goonies is the importance of friendship. The Goonies, a ragtag group of kids, face seemingly insurmountable challenges together—whether they’re solving puzzles, escaping dangerous situations, or facing down villains. What struck me about their journey was that it wasn’t just about finding the treasure. It was about how they stuck together, supporting each other through every twist and turn. This sense of loyalty, teamwork, and mutual respect was something I recognized in my own life. As I’ve faced my own obstacles, from dealing with my health challenges to striving to succeed in sports and academics, I’ve learned that the people you surround yourself with can make all the difference. The Goonies showed me that no matter how tough things get, you can always rely on your friends and family to help you push forward. Another lesson that The Goonies taught me is the importance of embracing who you are, even if you’re different. Each of the Goonies is unique in their own way, but together they form an unstoppable team. I’ve come to realize that it’s okay to be different, to stand out, and to embrace your individuality. Whether it’s in the way I approach challenges or the way I pursue my passions, I’ve learned that being true to myself is the key to success. Like Chunk, who might have been seen as the comic relief, or Data, the inventor who was always thinking outside the box, I’ve learned that my quirks and differences are what make me stronger, not weaker. The Goonies taught me that adventure is everywhere, even in the most unexpected places. It inspired me to chase my dreams with the same determination and adventurous spirit that Mikey and his friends had. It has been the cornerstone of my belief that no goal is too far out of reach, no matter how challenging or impossible it might seem. This mindset has guided me through difficult moments in my life and has fueled my desire to go to college, achieve my dreams, and one day be a mentor to others, like the Goonies were for each other. In many ways, The Goonies has been a blueprint for my life. The lessons it taught me about resilience, friendship, and embracing who you are have helped shape the person I am today. If I could follow even a fraction of their adventurous, fearless spirit, I know I’ll be able to overcome anything life throws my way.

Growing up without a father figure has shaped who I am in ways I didn’t fully understand until recently. As an 18-year-old Hispanic male, I faced unique challenges that I had to overcome from an early age. My father was absent from my life, and although I didn’t know the full extent of his absence as a child, I quickly learned that I had to be both resilient and independent in order to succeed. Growing up without my father meant I often had to take on more responsibilities than most kids my age. I watched my mom work tirelessly to provide for me and my siblings. She did everything in her power to give us a better life, but there were times when things were hard. We didn’t have a lot, and sometimes the weight of the world seemed to rest on her shoulders. I saw how hard she worked to make sure we had food, clothes, and an education, but I also realized that her sacrifices meant I couldn’t always rely on the same resources that other kids had access to. Because my father was absent, I often wondered if I was missing something essential in my life. But over time, I realized that the absence of my father taught me to be resourceful. It taught me the importance of family, of working hard, and of never giving up, no matter how difficult the circumstances may be. While I lacked the traditional support that comes from a father, I had the strength and drive to push forward. I learned to look for guidance from my coaches, teachers, and mentors—people who stepped in to fill that gap and helped me grow into the person I am today. However, financial struggles have continued to play a significant role in my life. My mother and I have faced difficult financial situations, and there were times when I wondered how we would make ends meet. Despite these challenges, I worked hard in school, participated in extracurricular activities, and made it a priority to excel. But despite my best efforts, paying for college is something I just can’t afford on my own. This scholarship represents a lifeline—a chance for me to pursue my educational goals without the overwhelming burden of financial strain. With it, I’ll be able to focus on my studies, participate in track and field, and take full advantage of the opportunities ahead of me. It’s not just a financial boost; it’s the chance to honor the lessons my mother taught me about perseverance and to prove that my past, no matter how challenging, will not define my future. This scholarship will help me break free from the financial limitations that have held me back and will empower me to achieve my dreams and build a better future for myself and my family. Thank you for considering me for this award! Warmly, Jayden Jordan-Loran

Throughout my high school years, there have been many teachers who’ve taught me lessons in books and tests. But only a few have taught me life lessons that have truly shaped who I am today. One of those teachers is Mr. Sam Sheridan, a teacher at The Academy at Palumbo who has had a profound impact on my life. His guidance, support, and innovative teaching methods have not only helped me grow academically but also instilled values in me that I carry with me every day. When I first walked into Mr. Sheridan’s classroom, I didn’t know what to expect. What I soon discovered, however, was a teacher who wasn’t just there to lecture but to engage, to challenge, and to inspire. Mr. Sheridan doesn’t simply teach the standard curriculum; he elevates it. He brings lessons to life in ways that make learning feel less like a requirement and more like an opportunity. His enthusiasm for the subjects he teaches is contagious, and he has a way of making even the most difficult topics accessible and exciting. But it’s not just his teaching style that makes Mr. Sheridan stand out. What truly sets him apart is his ability to connect with his students on a personal level. He takes the time to understand who we are as individuals, not just as students. Mr. Sheridan doesn’t see us as numbers or test scores; he sees us as people with unique stories, strengths, and challenges. For me, he has been a rock—a constant source of support through some of the most difficult times in my life. Whether it was offering a kind word when I was struggling or pushing me to believe in myself when I doubted my abilities, Mr. Sheridan has always been there when I needed him the most. What makes Mr. Sheridan’s influence even more significant is his willingness to go beyond the traditional teacher-student relationship. He encourages us to think critically, to question what we’re told, and to seek out answers for ourselves. He’s not afraid to challenge our assumptions and push us outside our comfort zones. I’ve learned to embrace this mindset not only in my studies but also in my approach to life. I’ve learned that it’s okay to question things, to look beyond the surface, and to never stop learning. His lessons haven’t just shaped the way I view the world academically—they’ve shaped how I approach challenges, how I interact with others, and how I see my place in the world. Mr. Sheridan’s impact on me extends beyond the classroom. Through his mentorship, I’ve gained a sense of purpose and direction that I didn’t have before. He’s shown me that success is not just about grades or accomplishments, but about growth, resilience, and the willingness to learn from failures. He has taught me that it’s not enough to follow the path set before you; you have to be bold enough to carve out your own path, even if that means facing obstacles along the way. As I prepare for the next chapter of my life, I know that the lessons Mr. Sheridan has taught me will continue to guide me. He has instilled in me the confidence to pursue my dreams, the determination to overcome obstacles, and the wisdom to approach life with curiosity and an open mind. For all of these reasons, I believe that Mr. Sheridan is the teacher who has made the greatest impact on my life, and I’m proud to honor him through this scholarship application. Thank you for your consideration, Jayden Jordan-Loran

For as long as I can remember, family gatherings have always been a special time for me—times to bond with loved ones, celebrate holidays, and create lasting memories. However, the reality of living with asthma and severe pet allergies has meant that these moments often don’t go as planned. Instead of enjoying time with my grandparents or celebrating holidays, my visits have frequently been cut short, sometimes ending with me in the emergency room. One memory that stands out the most is a trip to my grandparents' house during the winter holiday season. I had been looking forward to spending time with my family, but as soon as we arrived, my allergies started to flare up. My grandparents have pets, and the dander in their home triggers my asthma, which makes it difficult for me to breathe. I tried my best to push through the discomfort, but it wasn’t long before I had an asthma attack, and we had to leave the gathering early. I remember feeling both frustrated and embarrassed because everyone else was enjoying themselves, but I was stuck dealing with the symptoms of something I couldn’t control. Another difficult memory was when my family visited Great Wolf Lodge, where I hoped to have a fun experience, away from the typical stress of my condition. Unfortunately, the excitement quickly turned to worry when I began to struggle with my breathing. The combination of environmental triggers, like dust mites and the strong chemical scents in the water park, set off an asthma attack that worsened rapidly. My family was forced to leave, and on the way home, we were caught in a blizzard. The white-out conditions made it almost impossible to see, but the real crisis was that I could barely catch my breath. We ended up rushing to the emergency room, where I was treated for a severe asthma exacerbation. That day is one I will never forget, not just because of the fear and panic, but because I was so far away from home and felt completely helpless in the midst of a storm. These experiences have shaped the way I approach family events and travel. I never know when an asthma attack or allergic reaction might strike, and it’s something that I always have to plan around. Even during the happiest of moments, I’ve learned that I can’t take my health for granted. It’s frustrating to feel like I have to miss out on opportunities or leave early because of something beyond my control, but it has also taught me resilience and the importance of planning ahead. It’s given me a greater appreciation for my family and the efforts they make to ensure I’m comfortable and safe. Despite these challenges, I’ve never allowed asthma and allergies to define me. They may limit what I can do sometimes, but they’ve never stopped me from pursuing my dreams or participating in the activities that matter most to me. The scholarship I am applying for is an opportunity for me to continue my education and participate in track and field, an area where I’ve found a sense of accomplishment and belonging. While asthma may always be part of my life, I’ve learned how to manage it, and with the right support, I know I can thrive despite the obstacles I face.

From the moment I first announced a local football game, I knew a career in sports information was my calling. Sports have always been a powerful way to unite people, and I believe sports information plays a crucial role in connecting athletes, teams, and fans. As I prepare to pursue a degree in Sports Information at Duquesne University, I’m excited to develop the skills necessary to share the stories behind the scores. My vision for a career in sports information is to highlight not only stats and scores but also the personal stories of athletes. I’m passionate about showcasing the experiences of athletes who have overcome challenges, come from underrepresented communities, or have unique stories to tell. Through various media platforms, I want to help fans see the human side of sports and connect on a deeper level with the athletes they cheer for. To succeed in sports information, I believe strong communication, knowledge of sports, and adaptability to new technology are essential. Clear and effective communication is at the core of sports information—whether it’s writing press releases, conducting interviews, or managing social media. My athletic background in football, wrestling, and track and field has given me valuable insight into the world of sports, helping me to write with accuracy and perspective. Additionally, technology is always evolving in the sports media industry, and being adaptable to new tools will be key to staying relevant. Throughout my college career, I plan to build on these skills by seeking out internships and volunteer opportunities to practice writing press releases, managing social media, and working with multimedia platforms. One experience that shaped my interest in sports information was my role as the sports announcer for my high school’s track and field meets. This gave me hands-on experience with public speaking, researching athletes, and delivering commentary under pressure. I also assisted with social media posts and event schedules, learning the importance of clear communication. Being a student-athlete has also provided me with a unique perspective on the challenges athletes face and the importance of media coverage that is both accurate and respectful. Through my experiences in football, wrestling, and track and field, I understand the discipline and commitment required to succeed. This understanding will help me create content that respects athletes’ journeys and accurately reflects their hard work. I am also committed to growing my writing skills and understanding sports statistics. By taking advantage of opportunities at Duquesne, I hope to improve my ability to create engaging content and analyze data. I plan to connect with professionals in the field to gain real-world experience and insight into the sports information industry. Ultimately, my goal is to become a sports information director at a major university or professional organization, where I can help athletes share their stories and engage with fans. The Heather Brown Sports Information Scholarship will help me achieve this by providing financial support so I can focus on my studies and pursue opportunities to gain practical experience in the field. In conclusion, my passion for sports, dedication to communication, and commitment to growing my skills make me well-suited for a career in sports information. I am excited to continue my journey and look forward to the opportunities ahead in this dynamic and rewarding field. I'm sorry for your loss, Heather's picture looks like she had such a fun energy to her. Thank you for considering me for this scholarship. I'm glad that her legacy is living on and that this generous gift bring you happiness. Warmly, Jayden Jordan-Loran

Cancer crept into our lives like a shadow, slowly stretching its fingers until it had wrapped around everything we loved. My grandfather, my hero, was the one it chose to take from us piece by piece. I was only twelve when we first heard the word whispered in hushed tones, like it was something forbidden. "Stage four," they said. "Aggressive." At first, he fought with the strength of a man who had seen too much of life to go quietly. He was the toughest person I knew—stoic, strong, a man who had built a life from the ground up with calloused hands and an unshakable spirit. But cancer doesn’t care about any of that. It didn’t care about the stories he used to tell me at night, or the way he held my grandmother’s hand like they were still teenagers in love. It didn’t care about the fishing trips he promised to take me on, or the way his laughter made our house feel like home. As the months passed, I watched him change. His once broad shoulders seemed to shrink, his booming voice grew softer, and the sparkle in his eyes dulled under the weight of endless treatments. Chemotherapy robbed him of his hair, and the pain stole his independence. My grandfather, the man who once lifted me onto his shoulders so I could touch the sky, could barely lift himself out of bed. The impact of his illness wasn’t just felt in his body—it was felt in all of us. My grandmother, once so full of warmth and life, became a ghost of herself, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and worry. My father buried himself in work, unable to face the reality of losing his own father. My mother tried to hold us together, but even she wasn’t strong enough to keep the weight of grief from pressing down on our family. And then there was me. I didn’t know how to handle the anger, the sadness, the fear. I wanted to scream at the universe for being so cruel. I wanted to beg for more time. But instead, I sat by his side, watching as cancer stole him piece by piece. He tried to comfort me, even as he was the one fading away. "Don’t let this break you, kid," he’d say, his voice weaker with each passing day. "Be strong for me." But I wasn’t strong. When he passed, it felt like a part of me died with him. The house felt emptier, the world a little less bright. Holidays were quieter. My grandmother never danced in the kitchen again. My father never spoke about it. My mother cried when she thought no one was looking. And I—well, I just felt lost. Time has passed, but the ache hasn’t. It’s a dull pain now, a scar that reminds me of what I’ve lost. But I carry him with me, in the stories he told, in the lessons he left behind. I see him in the way my father smirks, in the way my grandmother still sets his place at the table, in the way I refuse to give up even when life knocks me down. Cancer took him from me, but it didn’t take his love, his wisdom, or the impact he had on our family. It changed us, yes, but in the end, it also reminded us of what truly matters—love, time, and the people we hold close while we still can.