Five years ago today, we lost Lee Roy Selmon. Colin wrote a beautiful piece about what it was like to know him: his genuine spirit, his uncommon patience, and his relentlessly upbeat perspective on life. For those of you who are younger USF fans who never met him, you should definitely read that article, and you'll get a better perspective on why older fans feel very strongly about USF as a different and special place. For example, it's hard to yell obscenities and nasty comments at opposing fans when you know how disappointed Mr. Selmon would have been.

So I am not going to reiterate what Colin said. But I want to share my story about how Mr. Selmon took two moments out of his life for me, and how much they affected my life trajectory. When I was finishing up my undergraduate degree, I was considering a number of different universities for graduate school, and one of them was Oklahoma. My attitude while working in Athletics was to stay out of the way of the admins and coaches as much as possible - these people have to deal with weirdos on a regular basis, and I wanted to be one less problem. It had been a year since I last spoke to him, so I wasn't even sure he knew who I was. So, I eventually got up the nerve to go over to Mr. Selmon's office, and when I knocked on the door, he said, "Hey Matthew! Come on in!" Now I feel bad, because he remembered my name so clearly.

I asked him if I could get some advice on graduate school and jobs, and he was generous and kind with his time. I asked him about Oklahoma. He punctuated his answer by shaking my hand - and he had these giant hands that swallowed mine up - and said, "but you know you're staying at USF, right?" I was incredibly moved by his gesture, but also suspected some salesmanship was going on, so I asked, "why do you think I'm such a good fit at USF?" Perhaps sensing my skepticism, he let go of my hand and put his hand on my shoulder and said, "here's the thing, Matthew. Every time I see you at work, or when people tell me about you, it's clear you are happier when you are a trailblazer. You love finding situations and making them better for people. You have that opportunity here."

A number of things struck me about that moment: first, that he took time to care about a student employee who he'd met maybe 3 or 4 times, and hadn't seen in a year. Second, that he cared more about my well-being that trying to just steer me to Oklahoma like a lot of people would have in that situation. Third, that he was absolutely right. Every time I make a major life decision, I think about that statement again: "it's clear you are happier when you are a trailblazer. You love finding situations and making them better for people." When Ole Miss offered me the opportunity to build my own Computer Engineering curriculum, I thought about what Mr. Selmon had said and jumped on the opportunity. When I got the opportunity to work with students in impoverished areas in the Mississippi Delta, I took it in part because of how Mr. Selmon motivated me. I tell my Lee Roy Selmon story to students in Electrical Engineering who are debating their life directions and choices. The moral is clear: know who you are, and be that person to the fullest.

My second story is more silly, but I still appreciate that he took time out for me. When I first started at USF Athletics, the head of the IT department introduced me to Mr. Selmon. The conversation quickly changed to music, and Mr. Selmon talked about how he was started to learn how to play the bass guitar. I had loosened up and joked that we could form a band called "Lee Roy and the ITs." He laughed and said, "that's catchy, I like it! We have to get together and play at some point." A couple of years later, I dropped by his office to tell him that tomorrow would be my last day. As we were saying goodbye, I joked that it was to bad we never got Lee Roy and the ITs together. He said, "bring your saxophone by tomorrow after work! I'll bring my bass." So I did, and after close of business, I went to his office and we jammed out. We were terrible, and it didn't matter. When we were done, I said, "Thank you, Mr. Selmon. You've done so much for me. I appreciate everything. I promise I'll keep trailblazing"

Thank you again, Mr. Selmon. I miss you. Oh, and Go Bulls!