Golf enthusiast made world better place

The priest began by saying he was at somewhat of a disadvantage, that he didn't know Matt Snodgrass well at all, that he understood only what he had read and heard.

That on the previous evening, while viewing pictures of the smile everyone adored and talked about, the smile that for so many years fought cancer with every ounce of passion and energy it could, he heard in the background a song by Tim McGraw.

It was, "Live Like You Were Dying."

Which is what Matt did every day.

To know the lyrics was to know him.

The bagpipe played, and a full congregation at Our Lady of Las Vegas Catholic Church rose Tuesday morning, and tears fell as the time arrived to say goodbye to an incredible young man. He was 23 when he died July 19 and refused to be cheated out of one second. People last several decades longer and never embrace life as Matt did. They never live as if they were dying.

I think of him every time an athlete is called courageous for competing in what is deemed a dangerous sport. Think of the countless brain tumors he survived since age 9, of the craniotomies he underwent, of the radiation and chemotherapy he endured, of the depression and anger and pain he suffered, of the millions of tears he and those closest to him shed.

I think of him and know what courage means, and it has nothing to do with sport.

But golf was there for him. It extended his life. It was his joy, his release. His grandfather taught him the game, and in many ways, it rescued Matt. It gave him strength, determination, a reason to rise each day.

Golf can be such a maddening game. When I first met Matt in 2009, he had survived seven brain tumors. Golf had nothing on that.

He cried that day, in the coffee shop where we sat and chatted, afraid that he would die without growing old and having his own family and knowing again what it felt like to be healthy.

But then the words came Tuesday, the stories about how many he touched, how many with cancer he helped, how many spirits he lifted, how his engaging personality and that wonderful smile brought hope to children fighting the disease.

And you knew he lived a full life.

"He opened so many doors for others," said the Rev. Gail Snodgrass, Matt's aunt, who gave one of the four eulogies at the service. "I remember a fist through a door in the house and thinking that it was just a way for him to move past the pain and open yet another door ... He had a heart and personality and spirit that was viable to friendships, to life and to everything, even though he didn't necessarily want it, that came his way."

One of his former teachers spoke of the time the two were with a group in London, when Matt made friends with the tour guide and agreed to watch England in a World Cup soccer match at a local pub.

Amy DeVaul reminded Matt that the bus would leave at 9 a.m. the following morning and that English ale was a lot stronger than American beer.

Matt made the bus but looked the part of having paid for it.

"But then he just grinned and said, 'The experience was worth it,' " DeVaul said.

No one enjoyed the experience of life more.

DeVaul also quoted from "Remember," by the poet Christina Rossetti. It defined how Matt wanted others to celebrate his life and passing.

It ended this way: Better by far you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad.

It came back to the smile a lot Tuesday, to that thing someone once said each day we spend without is a lost day. Matt didn't lose many days.

Here were some of his words to me in 2009:

"You know, in the end, if you live your life with respect and honor and integrity, that can be a good life. I've never felt the need to search for answers beyond that. Be a good person. Respect others. Pretty basic stuff.

"I can't not live. I can't always be questioning myself and my survival. Fear is something I try not to have in my life. It's scary. It's tough. I've dealt with it. Whatever happens, I've come to terms with my place and role in the world.

"I'm OK with me."

The world wasn't just OK with Matt Snodgrass in it.

It was a far better place.

More than anyone else I have met, he lived like he was dying.

Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ed Graney can be reached at egraney@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-4618. He can be heard from 3 to 5 p.m. Monday and Thursday on "Monsters of the Midday," Fox Sports Radio 920 AM. Follow him on Twitter: @edgraney.