Hi friends.

On Friday, June 5th, I’ll be back out on the course playing 100 holes in the Golf Fights Cancer’s Marathon—participating in a special event that means more to me each year.

This day always lands right around the anniversary of my dad’s passing. It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since we lost him to duodenal cancer—a rare and aggressive disease that too often remains hidden until it’s too late. That reality never really softens. But somehow, this day has become more than just a reminder of loss.

It’s a way to feel close to him.

My dad loved golf—truly loved it. The kind of love that wasn’t about the score (though trust me that did matter too….), but more about the time spent, the laughs shared and the people beside him. I think about that a lot as I walk the fairways (and woods…) with my brother Greg and some of my closest friends.

I realize I’m far from alone in having cancer so dramatically impact my life. Unfortunately, chances are cancer has touched your life too. That’s the part that’s impossible to ignore. It’s in too many stories, too many families, too many moments that change everything.

One of those stories is Maddie McCoy.

Maddie passed away at just 11 years old after a courageous fight against rhabdomyosarcoa—an incredibly rare and devastating pediatric cancer. It’s the kind of diagnosis no family should ever have to hear, and a disease that reminds you just how much work is still left to be done.

I didn’t know Maddie personally, but her story has stayed with me in a way that’s hard to put into words. It’s the kind of story that shifts your perspective and redefines what courage looks like. This year, once again, I’m honored to play in her memory and support Maddie’s Promise.

Days like this hold a lot of emotion—grief, reflection, gratitude—but also something else: hope.

Because progress is happening. Research is advancing. Early detection is improving. Treatments are evolving in ways that were unimaginable not long ago. Lives are being extended, and in many cases, saved. That doesn’t happen by accident—it happens because people show up, contribute, and refuse to accept where things stand today.

So I’m asking—humbly—for your support.

I know everyone is asked to give in many different ways, and I don’t take that lightly. But if you’re able to contribute, even in a small way, it truly does make a difference. Every dollar helps push this fight forward—for families like mine, for kids like Maddie, and for countless others still in the middle of their battle.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, for your support, and for being part of something that matters more than words can fully capture.

Thank you. 
Dave