“Win the day” is the motto Ethan Richardson’s family adopted earlier this year as Ethan battled cancer. Those same three words were emblazoned on the chests of 60 young men on Aug. 10 at Burnt Hickory Park in Dallas. They gathered to celebrate their friend, who died in April, through one of the things he loved most: lacrosse.
Ethan grew up in Acworth, the middle child of Shelby and Judy Richardson. He was an outdoorsy child who loved to hike and kayak. He was known for his easygoing nature and happy spirit, as well as an ability to handle adversity well. He also was the family dog whisperer, his bed the one both childhood dogs preferred.
Ethan, extroverted from his earliest days, began playing lacrosse in the first grade because that’s what his friends were doing. His zest for the sport was a slow burn, but he was a devotee by the time he got to North Paulding High, playing all four years as a long-stick midfielder.
“His senior year, they lost in the playoffs after nearly beating a team that was much better than them,” said Shelby Richardson, Ethan’s father. “Ethan went to a knee at the end, and he was crying. That moment was impactful. It summarized how much he cared.”
Ethan went on to play lacrosse at Birmingham Southern College for four years and graduated in May 2023. He then moved to Kennesaw, not far from his parents. He had a job in construction, and also coached youth lacrosse. Ethan often was with friends, hosting backyard bonfires and watch parties for UFC fights.
“You can measure people’s priorities by how they spend their time,” Shelby said. “Ethan was always spending time with the people he loved.”
Ethan began complaining of back and shoulder pain in January. An MRI showed inflammation of the rotator cuff, a typical affliction for an athlete. But over the next couple of weeks, the 23-year-old lost 10 pounds and only felt worse. His parents took him to see a chiropractor friend for an adjustment, and the chiropractor’s wife, an emergency room nurse, suggested they take Ethan to the ER.
“His white blood cell count was high, and the doctors could tell from scans that there was internal bleeding somewhere,” Shelby said. “It was that day, February 3, that we learned Ethan was full of cancer. Eighty percent of his liver was covered in it; it was on his spleen, his lungs, and there was a baseball-sized mass by his heart.”
Credit: Courtesy of Shelby Richardson
Credit: Courtesy of Shelby Richardson
Ethan was diagnosed with extragonadal choriocarcinoma. It’s testicular cancer that doesn’t originate in the testicles. Doctors said that when Ethan was forming in his mother’s womb, the cells likely were left in his chest cavity and, for reasons unknown, a switch flipped and they began to grow. This diagnosis affects 1 in 5 million and is treatable if caught in time. Ethan’s was not.
“Ethan was terrified at first,” Shelby said. “But, interestingly, that first night in the hospital, he said to Judy, ‘I’m too young to die, but you know, Mom, I’ve had a really good life.’”
Though the prognosis was bleak, the Richardsons did nothing but focus on the fight and pray for a win, taking the crisis day by day. Ethan was scheduled for six rounds of chemotherapy. Each time he had chemo, his lungs would fill with fluid, and he would have to be intubated and put on a ventilator.
“Still, we were getting good news from the oncologist,” Shelby said. “The chemo was working, she said, and the tumor markers were decreasing rapidly. But we only made it through two rounds of the chemo.”
On April 8, the oncologist took Shelby and Judy into a private room at Wellstar Kennestone Hospital. She told them that Ethan, their free-spirited son with the unquenchable zeal for life, was not going to make it.
“She said she and Ethan’s many other doctors had taken a step back to assess the situation and realized they were crossing the oath of do no harm,” Shelby said. “More treatment would only prolong his misery.”
The Richardsons returned to Ethan’s room to tell him his fight was over. Because he was ventilated, they’d been communicating back and forth with him through the remote control, typing words into the search bar on Netflix. After digesting his parent’s message for about 30 seconds, Ethan typed three words: “Let’s go home.”
Shelby had promised Ethan that he wouldn’t let him die in the hospital, but the oncologist said it wouldn’t be possible to move him. Ethan, a 6-foot-1 man who still resembled the little boy who brought turtles and lizards into the house, accepted that answer and made another request. He typed “let’s go” on the search bar and nodded toward the ventilator. He wanted it removed.
Doctors said it might take Ethan days to pass once he was taken off the ventilator, but his heart rate began to plummet as he blew kisses to friends and family surrounding his bed.
“I was in disbelief,” Shelby said. “The last thing I remember is looking at him and he was winking at me. It was like he didn’t want us to be sad. That was Ethan.”
Ethan died just 10 minutes after being taken off the ventilator.
Credit: Courtesy of Tara Schramm
Credit: Courtesy of Tara Schramm
The Richardsons have seen Ethan’s friends regularly over the past few months and recently received a call from one of them, Zack Schramm.
“Ethan and I had been friends so long, it’s hard to remember when our friendship began. He’s always there in my memories,” said Schramm, 23, who ran through the woods and across many lacrosse fields with Ethan when they were children. “It was surreal when I found out about E’s cancer. When I’d go visit him and he was at his weakest and worst, I’d still leave thinking he’d get through it.”
Schramm, who battled testicular cancer four years ago, said it still feels surreal that Ethan is gone. He wanted to honor his friend in a way that he would have loved. He told Shelby that he and some others were organizing an afternoon of lacrosse called Ethan Celebration Game. Schramm said he needed nothing from the Richardsons but their presence at the event.
The sweltering heat on Aug. 10 was no match for the enthusiasm of the crowd that gathered to honor Ethan. Sixty young men — one who flew in from Wyoming, another from Texas, many more who drove from Alabama and elsewhere in Georgia — stretched down the sidelines in full lacrosse gear. Most of them were former teammates of Ethan’s from North Paulding High and Birmingham Southern.
Before they took the field, shots of Tito’s were raised, and the letter “E” echoed across the field and into the bleachers, where a throng of loved ones joined the call to the heavens.
Shelby and Judy — wearing matching yellow “Win the Day” shirts with an image of Ethan beneath the words, his arms flung wide, ready for a hug — exchanged smiles, and wiped away tears as they watched the game. It was the perfect tribute for their son, a mix of the things he loved most — the outdoors, lacrosse, his friends and family and, yes, even Tito’s.
“Ethan didn’t know he would die at 23 years old,” Shelby said. “But if you knew you would, you’d live your life like Ethan.”
