Playing your part

The world is full of good people. People who see something wrong or unfair and want to help. They will share on social media, sign a petition, donate money, time or expertise. They might even join a walk or ride to raise awareness or sell raffle tickets. We were those people. Until a friend died and one of us decided he had to do more. A lot more.

I had never met Ross Sawatzky. He was a tennis mate of Norman's. But I  remember the day Norman told me that Ross had been diagnosed with HLH, a rare autoimmune disease none of us had heard of. He was gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Loving husband to Cinzia and father to two teenage girls, Zoe and Teagan. Just 48. So sad. So bloody unfair.

Perhaps it's because he's a father of two himself. Or perhaps the sheer weight of seeing someone so full of life robbed of his so young propelled him forward. Whatever the reasons, and with the blessing of the Sawatzky family, Norman decided to start a charity tennis tournament in Ross's honour. 

Ever started a charity event from scratch? It's one thing to have a good idea. Actually pulling it off takes guts, grit and countless hours of hard yakka. It's beset with knockbacks as you scramble for sponsors and disappointments as those who promise goods or services fail to deliver.

It's a year-long marathon that begins almost as soon as the last one finishes. A marathon that ends with a sprint when you're almost spent. The last few days are manic, with the goodwill of friends and the kindness of strangers carrying you through.

We just held the fourth Sawatzky Cup. Almost five years that I've watched one determined individual pour his heart and soul, blood, sweat and tears into ensuring it's the best possible day for competitors and supporters - and reminds everyone why we're there.

And it was a great day. The sun was shining on Alexander Park Tennis Club's perfect grass courts, though thankfully not as fiercely as the previous year. The tennis was first-class, the raffle tickets were selling like hotcakes and the bar was doing great business. We were surrounded by generous sponsors and wonderful friends, who donated money, prizes and the gift of time. One even flew over from New Zealand to help.

Most importantly, the day raised awareness for Rare Voices Australia, the national peak body for people living with rare diseases like the one that took Ross from his family. While rare diseases are by very definition uncommon, the number of Australians living with one is not. There are about two million. You likely know someone with a rare disease. Or have lost someone yourself.

As I said, I did not know Ross. But I have come to know his widow, the gorgeous Cinzia. She shows up to help every year, even though it's a day filled with mixed emotions. It takes a strong spirit and kind heart to let personal loss to become so public, knowing it will bring back so many feelings every year. 

It helps to remind myself in the crazy lead-up to the tournament of the very real people behind its genesis.  That my 5am start on the day is nothing to starting each day without a loved one.

I've also seen what can be done when good people put their hand up. The Sawatzky Cup has already done a power of good. Pretty much on the shoulders of one man who decided he couldn't just go to another funeral. He had to do something.

The world needs more people like you, Norman.

And, if you've got this far and would like to help, the Sawatzky Cup donations page for Rare Voices Australia will remain open for another few weeks. Thank you from the bottom of my grateful heart.