Here's an excerpt from his letter:

I’m bummed I missed the reunion game. I traveled to Philly four days after the game was played. Had I known the date earlier, I would have been there no doubt. It would have been great to see the entire 1989-1991 crew there. I’ve enclosed a team photo from that year in case you do not have it already. II’m third from the right, two players away from you. (Clark note: I'm the guy in the hat on the far right)

I hope all is well for you. I still enjoy reading your blog every chance I get. I also hope your book sales are going well. Writing is not my forte, although an unfortunate requirement of a Ph.D. I prefer paying jobs, as journals and the like take it for free. Perish or Publish blows. I hope your family is well.

How old are you, or should I ask, how old were you when you coached TU Rugby. You seemed really old to me back then, when I was 21 (which was a very good year), but now I seem really old to me, and I guess I now am the age you were when you coached (see what I mean about my writing skills?) Of course, I’m not nearly as handsome.

I think the greatest testament to the power of our TU rugby team is comradeship. In 2002, my mother died of a brain tumor in Philadelphia. Four members of the team, whom I did not speak to for over ten years, showed up at St. Matthew church in Northeast Philly. After traveling 6000 miles from Honolulu to get to the funeral, seeing their faces made the trip seem incredibly short. I don’t know why or how, but it did. We had a great team and a great coach.

Anyway, I teach music at the Kamehameha Schools in Honolulu. Second largest endowment in America, next to Harvard. I have also taught at the University of Hawaii, and Hawaii Pacific University. My wife is a local MD. In all honesty, all I really want to do is surf. I turned down several university jobs on the mainland in the past 2 years, including USC, to stay in the most beautiful place on the planet. It really is. The greatest climate, too. Today it was 86 degrees, 42% humidity. Just like Philly.

Thanks for the phone call. It bought a huge smile upon my face to hear your voice again. I truly hope to see you again at a future rugby reunion.

As a personal note, I’ll never forget when you gave a lecture on the importance of directional kicking. You said a great player always places the ball exactly where he wants it. You gave the ball to South Africa’s own Tim Rape, who proceeded to kick it squarely into your nuts.

Aloha nui loa,

Joe

In the spirit of Joe's letter, I replied:

After your Tim Rape story, I noticed something about the team photo you sent. Everyone is covering their balls.