Conor McCadden’s T-shirt says it all as he, center, poses with best friend Brian Eustace, left to right, and brothers Sean and Ryan McCadden during a football game they attended. PHOTO COURTESY OF KIM EUSTACE METUCHEN — On or off the court, Conor McCadden was no quitter.
From the time he was diagnosed with bone cancer, through his treatments and even after doctors told the 16-year-old his time was limited, Conor pushed forward with a positive attitude that has already become his legacy.
The Metuchen High School junior — captain of the varsity basketball team of which he was a member since freshman year — died Dec. 14, surrounded by those who loved him.
“He never complained,” said Bea Zatorski, who is grandmother to Conor’s best friend, Brian Eustace, and “Aunt Bea” to Conor.
And he never hesitated to tell people he loved them, she said, including in his last words to Brian.
Conor, whose “Aunt” Bea Zatorski, left, said he was never afraid to show affection, holds hands with the woman he once called “one of the sweetest, nicest people that I’ve ever met.” PHOTO COURTESY OF KIM EUSTACE “He told Brian, ‘I love you, and I’ll see you in heaven,’ ” Zatorski said, adding that the statement showed his faith that he was going to a better place.
She considered Conor and his brothers, Sean and Ryan, like grandchildren — and Conor considered Brian a brother.
For Brian, the feeling was mutual.
“Conor was the best friend you could ever ask for,” he said, adding that the honor student’s strength and caring were remarkable. “He rarely made anything about himself; the kid was going through treatments and grueling rehab, yet he was checking up on me during school to see how my grades were.”
Instead of seeking comfort from others in his illness, Conor comforted others, encouraging them to forge ahead.
“Every day, I would shoot Conor a text and just tell him I loved him, and no matter what the situation was, he would always tell me to stop worrying about him,” friend and fellow team captain Thomas Chalker said. “That is the kind of kid Conor was.”
But Thomas didn’t always love Conor, he said. When then-coach Jon Korellis made Conor a member of the varsity basketball team as a freshman, Thomas, a sophomore, was the starting point guard.
“I was nervous, maybe even a little jealous, and basically I hated him through his freshman year,” Thomas said, adding that it didn’t take long for the young player to win him over.
“He was a phenomenal kid who made everyone around him a better person. I plan on wearing his number this year to honor the kid who turned into my best friend, my brother, my hero.”
Thomas wore his friend’s jersey — No. 2 — as he served as a pallbearer during the funeral, alongside Brian and others close to Conor.
The significance of that jersey is immense, as it represents Conor’s true love: basketball.
“When I [first] saw him play, it was pretty evident that this kid had a gift,” Korellis said. “He had some things you can’t teach.”
Despite his gift, Conor worked doggedly to stay at the top of his game, even during his battle with cancer.
Two days after being diagnosed, he showed up at the gym to be among his fellow players. He also regularly came to AAU team practices, mentoring the kids Korellis coached.
“To see him, I think it meant a lot to them,” Korellis said of the team members. “They all looked up to him.”
Last year, after undergoing a knee replacement and while receiving chemotherapy treatments, Conor served as assistant coach at the high school, vowing to be back on the court this year.
Despite doctors telling him that he could be at risk by attending games if he were to catch a cold or his blood pressure were to rise, Conor couldn’t stay away.
“He did it with pride. He did it with dignity and he looked great,” Korellis said.
Even in the hospital, Conor’s love for the game couldn’t be bridled.
“A story that I still laugh at today was this summer while he was at Robert Wood Johnson’s Children’s Hospital,” Brian said. “We were sitting in his room when he decided he needed to do something, so we went to the little park area the hospital had. We had a basketball, and while still attached to a pole with his fluids and vitals, he shot around for a half-hour — behind the threepoint line, of course. All he ever wanted to do was play ball.”
Another friend and neighbor, Jim Hampsey, also shot hoops at the hospital with Conor, he said.
“Seeing that kid so happy despite all that he was going through really rubbed off on me,” Jim said.
Sandy Vorensky, a neighbor on Salem Court, recalled a memory of the group of friends called the Salem Seven, of which Conor was a part. Though the friends’ ages spanned 10 years, they were close and shared an annual Thanksgiving tradition called the Frozen Chicken Bowl, their own Super Bowl of sorts.
“This past Thanksgiving, Conor was facing very difficult challenges as he was battling bone cancer,” Vorensky said. “As the team they had always been, the gang approached the field to play. With great courage, Conor threw a pass as his teammates made their way down the field. It was, after all, to Conor, all about his loyalty to his friends, optimism in the face of adversity and a love for life. Conor passed away less than one month after this year’s Frozen Chicken Bowl.”
While Conor didn’t give up living his life, he also exhibited an incredible level of acceptance when he knew his time was growing shorter, Zatorsky said.
“He was very accepting of it,” she said. “He never said ‘I’m scared,’ or ‘I’m afraid.’ ”
John Cathcart, athletic director at Metuchen, reflected on Conor’s grace and maturity when he came to the school to tell him that he had four weeks left to live.
“The kid was a great kid,” he said. “Everybody’s devastated around here. It’s just been tough — very tough.”
Korellis was thankful to be among the many gathered at the McCadden home on the Saturday before he passed.
“The last thing I said was, ‘All the goodbye hugs and kisses you’re getting — don’t consider it a goodbye,’ ” Korellis said.
And if Conor’s impact on others is an indication of his legacy, he will live on in spirit through those who loved him.
“Seeing all the hardship Conor went through, and how he never quit, he has taught me to face my fears head on,” said Mike Plunkett, another close friend. “[He] has taught me one of the greatest life lessons one can ever be taught: When you’re going through hell, keep on going. Never give up.”
Conor had praised Zatorski for being there for him on a daily basis, helping him through his arduous struggle. But she said he gave her much more than she could ever have given him.
“There’s just no better kid anywhere,” she said, adding that the crowd of more than 3,000 people who packed St. Francis Church in Metuchen to standing-room-only capacity for Conor’s funeral service was proof of that.
“It was an unbelievable display of love and affection for him,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
In Conor’s 16 years on Earth, he touched more people than many do in a lifetime, Brian said.
“He was such a strong kid until the end — an amazing kid,” said Brian’s mother, Kim. ”
Jim agreed, saying Conor impacted him in ways he never knew.
But, according to Zatorski, perhaps he did know.
“He said to me one time that he knew why God gave this to him — so that he could be an example to others,” she said. “And he really, really meant it.”