The Ultimate Comeback Story: Almost two years after surgery for a brain tumor, Evans leads Valparaiso to the baseball state finls

VALPARAISO -- One day at a time.

It's a tried and true sports cliche' that athletes and coaches break out to emphasize staying in the moment and not looking ahead.

Often times, it's a throwaway comment used in interviews when they don't really have anything substantive to say.

For Todd Evans, they have truly become four words to live by.

"Life is life and these are sports," the Valparaiso High School baseball coach said. "It's just a small part of it now. It puts it in a different perspective."

A little over two years ago, Evans was diagnosed with a brain tumor behind his right eye. And while his response to a nine-surgery July 21, 2023 at the Mayo Clinic to remove the golf-ball size mass was deemed 'miraculous,' it is something that will be a part of his life for the rest of his life.

"It's a matter of when not if, some kind of therapy will have to take place, sooner or later," Janelle Evans said of the treatment Todd will need for the portion of the growth that remains at a cellular level. "Everyone looks at him, oh, he's good now. They don't realize his battle every day to be as productive as he is, the strength to overcome. He says it's all the time, it's the fear of the unknown. There's nothing like a brain surgery, all the things he's experiencing. His biggest fear is it will shorten his lifespan. He says, I just want to walk our daughters down the aisle. It sucks, frankly, this rollercoaster that we'll never get off of, but I'm grateful he's still here and gets to do the things he loves to do."

One of those is baseball, which Evans, 44, has coached for 21 years at Valparaiso, where he also played. After continuing his collegiate career a few miles away at Valpo University, he spent a year of teaching and coaching at Westville before returning to the high school. He was a freshman coach/varsity assistant for a decade before becoming the head coach in 2015, when he succeeded Mickey Morandini.

Todd Evans underwent surgery for a brain tumor in July 2023. As his recovery process continues, he has led Valparaiso to the Class 4A baseball state finals this season.

"My brother (Chad) and I have been together for a long time, 20 years now," Evans said. "He was named the IHSBCA Assistant of the Year. I'm proud of him. He's deserving of that. This is something we've worked really hard for from the beginning to build, whether it was freshman, assistant or varsity."

Two Saturdays ago, Evans piloted the Vikings to the program's first regional title. Last Saturday, it was the South Bend Semi-State, which earned Valpo a trip to the state final at Indianapolis' Victory Field, where it will play Evansville North for the Class 4A title championship Saturday night.

"I looked up in the stands and there was Pat Murphy, a hall of fame coach, Todd Coffin," Evans said. "You think what they have and haven't been able to achieve with the talent they've had. I played for Pat. He had teams that were so successful, Todd had Jeff Samardzija and Mike Sullivan, and they've never done this. Samardzija's team made it to the regional championship, when it was two games. It's why we play the games. I came out of the dugout against Goshen, I looked up and saw TR (Harlan), I was wiping tears out of my eyes. We have the opportunity to do what everyone wants to do, win their last ball game, to walk off the field a state champion."

The story line is an incredible one under normal circumstances, without even factoring in the rest of it, all the battles Evans has won with his ongoing health issues to achieve his biggest victories in the dugout.

"Saturday was awesome," senior Trevor Fenters said. "We've never even been to semi-state and we go out and win it, our first one ever. It means a lot to him. He's also been coaching for a while. It's something he wanted for a long time. You could tell. He wants this for us, and it's even bigger for us that we get to do it for him. He was very good at hiding what he was going through. He's become more emotional as a coach, more thankful to be here. He'll get teary-eyed when he talks about the bigger moments. He showed up every day for all of us, not thinking about anything but the kids on the team and winning. It tells us, if he can bounce back and keep doing what he's doing, we can do basically whatever."

Todd Evans takes a trophy picture with wife Janelle and kids Evie, Eliza and Sullivan after winning the South Bend Semi-State.

Evans first began experiencing issues late in 2022, having what are known as focal aware seizures, instances of deja vu and smelling things that weren't there, notably his deceased grandmother.

"I told my wife things were happening," he said. "I got through baseball season. I had a couple seizures, but never lost consciousness. When the season was over, I had multiple ones in a week."

During a subsequent trip to the University of Chicago Hospital, Evans was diagnosed with epilepsy, which Janelle had actually thought, as she did her own online research.

"I knew it could be neuro," she said. "A brain tumor was never on the radar."

The 4th of July weekend, Evans underwent an MRI. Toward the end of the week, they contacted the doctor about the results, and he called them back within five minutes with the news of the mass.

"He said they can do things here, but they'd have no problem if we get a second opinion at a place like Mayo," he said. "When we went up to Rochester (Minnesota), the neurosurgeon said it was even beyond me."

Evans was referred to Dr. Michael Link, the top skull-based neurosurgeon in the world, and surgery was scheduled for two weeks later.

"It all happened so fast, June to July, beginning to end, the diagnosis to meeting the doctor to the surgery, I really didn't have time to comprehend what it entailed, what the possible outcome might be, and how my life could be completely altered, until the morning of the surgery," he said. "I had all the intentions of waking up obviously. (Janelle)'s always the one thinking one or two steps ahead as far as what can happen; me, six months, it goes to the back shelf, I forget about it, I don't want to think about it, then when we go up there for those two days, it comes to the front of my mind, oh crap."

It all hit Janelle when Todd kissed her and the kids prior to the operation.

"When I had our first baby, I thought it was very important to have a parent in the home," she said. "I took about a decade off (work) to raise the kids. I knew I would go back eventually. Reality struck as he went into surgery, not knowing if he was going to come out alive and I might have three kids to raise. His illness propelled me back into (working)."

Link told Todd and Janelle that he wouldn't know precisely what they were dealing with until the surgery was started, at which point it was determined it was going to be exponentially more complicated because of the nature and location of the tumor.

"Usually, there's two types, one like jelly that they can pull right off, the other, more arachnid-like," Evans said. "Mine was covering my main cerebral artery, the bone the optic nerve goes through. When they opened me up, they would give percentages of me still being able to see, talk, and all my percentages went down. To hear those things now, it brings you to your knees sometimes. There's still something there. They removed it down to the cellular level. I'm very thankful for still being here. I'm lucky to be walking, I'm lucky I can see. Here I am."

When Evans regained consciousness, he remembered being surrounded by doctors, who were asking him if he was seeing double, if he could move his fingers and toes.

"I distinctly remember looking around the room, I get emotional about it now, the doctors' hands were going in the air, like fist bumps," he said. "They knew they had done something that probably shouldn't have happened. Everything went smoothly. They're awesome up there. I have a scar, but my plastic surgeon did a great job. You can't really tell. I don't consider myself a very religious person, but I believe there is a higher power there. Just the pure positive energy I got from everyone surrounding us had a huge impact on the surgery and the outcome of the surgery, emotionally and financially. I can't be any more thankful. It's a tribute to my support system of my family, friends, coaches. My wife has been absolutely awesome, our kids."

It was three months before Evans met with Link for the post-operation follow-up to talk about what came next.

"We had met the surgeon the day before," Janelle said. "Todd was so excited. When we came back and he said I can tell you with 100 percent certainty we didn't get all of it, he sunk in his chair. He was emotional. You go through this and it doesn't solve the problem. He's trying to recover from the surgery. The seizures were quite a bit to manage. Year one, you're trying to heal, you're just trying to survive. Year two was just as hard, trying to figure out how to live in our 'new normal,' understanding it. It was a lot of work to give into that, the limitations. He's been this god in so many ways, a college athlete. He's never had physical limitations. It was a lot of internal, personal work to get through emotion that he couldn't go, go, go."

Valparaiso baseball coach Todd Evans hugs wife Janelle after the Vikings won the South Bend Semi-State.

Not that Evans didn't try.

"It's not like ankle, knee or shoulder surgery, it's your brain," he said. "Your brain tells the other parts of your body what to do. I was up and walking the next few days, little laps with a walker. Two-and-a-half days later, I was released to my hotel room. Everyone's different, but I was back home within four days. He said listen to your body. He told us about a patient who was back up in training for marathons within two months. As a coach, I'm thinking, all right. For me, my body let me do things, walk around, go up stairs, but an hour later, I would crash. My brain was working so hard, all the input."

During football picture day in August, Evans was there as if it was business as usual, hanging around the noisy locker room with all the visual stimuli.

"My wife says, you're nuts," he said. "I come out with a headset around my neck onto the field like nothing had happened. To this day, (I'm like,) you were the biggest idiot. I should have just shut it down and did nothing for six months. I didn't teach until fall break (nine weeks). I had to tell (football coach) Bill (Marshall) I have to shut it down. Being the coach he is, the staff we have here, it's like a family. I'd watch film, but I wasn't on the field. I was coming to games, but not coaching. I would stay till halftime. I'd be too tired. The year after, my body was figuring out a new normal. It's still figuring out a new normal."

For someone as involved as Todd was, Janelle knew how hard it was for him to have to pull back, as well as dealing with personality changes that came after the surgery.

"We were at a game and he said, I need to leave immediately," she said. "His body had spoken loudly. He cried the whole ride home. I can look at him and know when he's reached his limit. It's on ongoing joke, unless you really knew him, he was this quiet, stoic guy for the most part, overall. So much of (your emotion) is controlled in the temporal lobe. He went from someone who was the stereotypical coach, stern on the outside, now these guys don't blink an eye at him getting emotional. The players had to adjust to it. I tell him, it's all right. It makes you human. The feedback I get, they actually love it. They like seeing that side of Todd."

As Evans struggled with adapting, one of the people who helped out with that aspect of the process was Crown Point baseball coach Steve Strayer, who had come back after having suffered a stroke about 10 years ago.

"You look at me right now, if you didn't know me, you wouldn't know I was dealing with what will be an ongoing brain cancer situation," he said. "I was curious, would I be able to hit fungoes, be able to live life the way you were before? I have a passion for coaching. Steve reached out. We had a nice conversation, you know, that guy not showing up on time may not be such a big deal, take things a day at a time. That's where I'm at with the success of this team, taking things one game at a time."

Having 13 seniors who have been part of what has become an extraordinary journey has helped in navigating the circumstances.

"They've been through the thick and the thin," Evans said. "I know what to expect from them, they know what to expect from me. Around selection time, I had a conversation with the group, sometimes you look at the coaches like we're machines, that blood doesn't run through our veins, we don't have emotions. That got put into perspective really quickly. I don't think they've ever made it (about me), but they understand what I've gone through and understand that their adversity might be different than mine, but they're going to fight through it. Goshen, we're down 1-0, after the third inning, I said, no one's going to hand it to you, you've got to go out and get it. That's what they did."

The game marked the only time Valpo has been behind in the state tournament's five games.

"We started 0-4 in the conference against LC and Crown Point," Evans said. "I told our guys, if you flip the script, I will trade four wins for a state championship any day. I think it was kind of a turning point. We've had a good group come through here the last couple years, 45 wins, basically the same kids. We didn't panic, we didn't hit the switch, like, oh no, what are we doing wrong? We lost a game in Jasper and after that, we've just been playing well. They've just put it all together and had a great run."

Fenters deeply appreciates the impact Evans has had on him and the team throughout their careers. He was a part of a group of students with 4.0 grade point averages who wrote letters about their most influential teachers, and Fenters chose Evans.

"His first time back, he gave a speech about what went down, he was honored so much, happy to be here with us," Fenters said. "He does more than coaching. He coaches us on the field and inspires us to be better people, better students. Grades are what comes first. We're students first. He's makes sure we do something for our moms and dads (on those days), be good people."

Two days after the regional, Evans had to return to the Mayo Clinic for a follow-up MRI.

"They were aware I wasn't able to be at practice Monday," he said. "We had a group text, a bunch of, 'hey coach, I hope everything goes well, see ya' on Tuesday.' Winning that regional was awesome, but life brings you back to reality. If this thing's growing, I'm going to be getting radiation for the next six months. The words you love to hear are stable, no change. The medication is doing what it's supposed to do. (I have to) get ample rest, (maintain) a good diet. I texted them, I've got good news, well, boys, it's back to focusing on getting more good news."

Though Evans can now have what doctors call an 'aura,' manifesting itself in an anxiety attack where his heart is racing and he'll feel like someone is standing on his chest, he has learned his cues and what to do when they occur.

"I'm usually a pretty good pacer," he said. "In high-pressure situations, I try to find a spot on the bench and sit, let things play out."

Janelle, a technology consultant, also runs the girls basketball program with the Indiana Game AAU organization. She will be making her way from a tournament in Cincinnati on Saturday to Indianapolis for the baseball game. With Todd's coaching and three active kids (Evie, 13; Sullivan, 11; and Eliza, 7), they are used to practice and game schedules dictating their lives, and wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I understand baseball a little more than the average mom," Janelle said. "As a coaching family and also the parent of an athlete, I get a behind the curtain look most don't, a little different perspective, how to handle things. Coaching isn't what they do, it's who they are. I couldn't imagine him in any other role. Obviously, I'm partial, but he's the type of person you want coaching your kids. We've got a few hundred surrogate sons. A lot of talent has come through, but they wouldn't be where they are without the solid program he's created. He has a passion, an indomitable spirit that fuels him, and him being able to triumph over this makes the wins, the success, all the sweeter. It's his time now. I'm incredibly proud, so happy for him, that he gets this opportunity to shine. He's the ultimate comeback story."