Todd Sylvester loves to hang around elementary schools and talk to kids about how to be cool. Not fake cool. Real cool. He has developed a program called Sly Dog — that's Todd's old high school nickname — that encourages kids to set goals, stay positive, think good thoughts, serve others and stay off alcohol and drugs.
Your basic road map to happiness and success, and one that Todd almost missed entirely.
That thought — that he nearly self-destructed before he ever really got started — is what drives Todd to the schools. He doesn't tell them to be like him. He tells them to be just the opposite. He is scared other kids might go where he once went. If he can head them off at the pass, if he can put them on a positive track and subtly warn them, with the use of his cartoon Sly Dog persona, that sometimes the uncool looks cool, he can sleep at night, and, equally important, he can reconcile with himself that the nightmare he went through wasn't completely for naught.
Todd's story begins on a high note. He entered Brighton High School in the fall of 1983 full of promise, particularly on the basketball court. No one was more passionate about basketball than he was. He practiced three hours a day, minimum. He'd have practiced more if he hadn't had to go to class. His teammates were the ones who hung the "Sly Dog" nickname on him, for his uncanny ability to come up with the ball. He played on two state championship teams. As a 6-foot-3 point guard who could pass and shoot, his dream was to play in college and then in the NBA, and plenty of people told him they thought he had the talent.
But while his parents cheered him on to become all the player he could be, they also gave him the green light to drink when he was a sophomore. Their only condition was that he couldn't drive when he drank. Todd took them up on it. Whenever there was a party, which was often, he supplied the booze. He started smoking marijuana when he was 15.
He thought it was very possible that there was nobody at Brighton High School more cool than Sly Dog.
And then, it all began to crumble.
By his junior year, alcohol and pot were constant companions. He'd go home at noon for a buzz. By his senior year, even though he was a tri-captain on the basketball team that won the title, his game started to slide. He made third team All-State as much on reputation as anything.
When he set out for college, he wasn't nearly as cool, and he still had his addictive companions, who would not get off the ride no matter how hard Todd pushed.
He got cut from every college team he tried out for and he couldn't make it through the day without a drink and a joint. He added cocaine and cough medicine to his training table, and by age 19 he was so uncool he wanted to kill himself.
Then he finally got lucky. With the help of good friends, he found God and put his life back together in the nick of time. On Aug. 5, 1988, he stopped the drinking and the drugs and hasn't touched either one since. Almost 16 years later, the thought of how close he came to completely ruining his life and how easy it would be to go back frightens him daily.
So, whenever he can, he hits the schools, preaching positivism and abstinence. He's set up a Web site, www.slydog.com, that helps him get out the message, along with two friends, Aaron White and Lance Platt, who have joined the cause. If he could, he'd do it full time. It's the nicest thing he can think of doing: encouraging kids not to go where he has gone. Because there's nothing quite so uncool as killing your own dreams.
Lee Benson's column runs Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Please send e-mail to benson@desnews.com and faxes to 801-237-2527.