Finding his path
John Carroll senior Cox uplifted by those who chose him
Donnie Famularo estimates there are upward of a thousand John Carroll lacrosse faceoff videos saved on his phone. It’s his responsibility to record each midfield clash taken by his son, Michael Cox. Postgame car rides are then spent meticulously reviewing each clip.
“See Pop, look. See my hands are in the wrong spot there,” Cox explains, his head buried in the replays. The faceoff circle is a space of clarity. It’s just him and his opponent, crouched silently, as they anticipate the impending whistle.
Those are the moments when Cox becomes laser-focused.
Once, his niece Ruby, who was only 4 years old at the time, accompanied her uncle in the front yard while he practiced faceoffs. Cox pulled her into the makeshift circle. He slid her hands and feet into place, patiently teaching her proper technique.
“When he sets his mind that he wants to try to do something or learn something,” Famularo said, his Mississippi drawl pouring over each syllable, “he will work on it tirelessly for hours and hours until he gets it.”
Sports offered Cox a place for refuge in a journey that nearly saw him slip through the cracks.
Even resurfacing baby pictures brings Donnie’s wife, Rebecca, to tears. Cox was born in Mississippi on Sept. 4, 2004. Rebecca met him for the first time shortly thereafter, in December 2004. Cox needed a stable home environment. Rebecca, her maternal instincts kicking in, felt compelled to provide it when given the opportunity to give him just that.
“The mother in me just didn’t think he was being mothered enough,” Rebecca said. “I felt like he had a lot of love to give. … So I called [Donnie] and said, ‘I think I’m gonna bring a baby home.’ ”
Rebecca is Cox’s biological mother’s aunt, technically making her Cox’s great aunt and Donnie, his great uncle. But to them and to Cox, having loved and raised him all his life, they’ve always been “mom and dad.”
Rebecca and Donnie had then only recently become empty-nesters. All three of their biological children — now 38, 41 and 42 years old — were out of the house when they officially took Cox in on Jan. 21, 2005. His biological older sister, Alyssa Mooney, later joined the family.
Mooney took the first initiative to try to meet her biological parents. She introduced them via FaceTime to her younger brother.
“I just thought, I’ll let her do her and let her go see my parents — my biological parents that didn’t even want me,” Cox said. “And I’ll just stay here and keep grinding and be someone one day.”
Not sharing a last name with his parents subjected Cox to questions he detested answering. Being diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder in first grade and requiring additional academic support opened him up to judgment from his peers.
“But with boys in particular, if you can play, you’re immediately accepted,” John Carroll boys lacrosse coach Don Reynolds said. “That was Michael’s path initially to expanding his friend group.”
To say he was always athletically inclined might be underselling it.
Rebecca remembers sitting off to the side of one of Cox’s Taekwondo classes. He was maybe 5 years old at the time. She looked up, confused. The entire class counted higher and higher. “79! 80! 81!” they chanted. Cox was knocking out pushups. His arms trembled mightily but he refused to quit.
He once impressed his North East Elementary School classmates and physical education teacher by being the only student to conquer the gym’s pegboard climbing wall, ringing the top bell.
John Carroll provided a competitive athletic environment that could also meet his academic needs.
As a freshman, Cox was getting additional academic support through the school’s St. Joseph program. As a sophomore amid the coronavirus pandemic, during which school was done virtually, his grades improved enough to where he wasn’t eligible for receiving similar resources as a junior — often considered high school’s most academically rigorous time.
Athletic pressures in football, wrestling and lacrosse, on top of dealing with personal and educational stress, reached a reckoning in the winter of his junior year.
During a dual meet against Gilman in the closing weeks of the season, Cox uncharacteristically conceded a match. He should have easily “overpowered the kid,” Donnie said.
But Cox wanted to quit. He confided in his mom it was all becoming too much.
“I just had so much stuff on my hands,” Cox said. “It was a lot of work. My grades were slipping. It just wasn’t working out for me.”
“I got really scared,” Rebecca said. “I wanted to know where he was. What was making him say that? I know studying is hard and I get that. But that’s not what I saw. I saw almost desperation. Like, ‘I just can’t do it.’ ”
Patriots wrestling coach Keith Runk called Reynolds that night. They met the next day and vowed to get Cox the appropriate help. Cox was retested for an Individualized Education Plan, a more specialized instruction that would reinstate him to the St. Joseph program and better tailor it to his learning style.
In addition to Cox’s grades dropping at the time, he admitted his relationships with family and friends were suffering the same fate. Even his connection with Reynolds — another parent figure — had gotten rocky.
Cox’s support group, however, helped steer him to newfound success.
Cox met Reynolds after joining his Thunder Lacrosse program in middle school. Player and coach have since forged an untenable bond over shared experiences.
Reynolds was vulnerable with him, sharing the grave details of his own upbringing; a drug-addicted biological father who returned from fighting the war in Vietnam unable to raise him, leading to his adoption in eighth grade.
He often heard in adolescence, sometimes from family members, “You’re like your father.” That’s a battle Cox can relate to, feeling as though someone else is setting boundaries for your potential.
“I don’t know that Michael looked at me and thought maybe I came from some perfect path,” Reynolds said. “But I share the same path as him. And I wanted him to look at me after all this time we’ve been together — because we do trust and love each other — to say, “Hey, he didn’t become his dad. And neither [will] I.”
Cox shows deep affection for those who choose to love and to be there for him. Graduation is a hard goodbye for his closest kin who have watched him endure with a whimsical smile and unbreakably polite demeanor.
He’ll attend Limestone University in Gaffney, South Carolina, where he’ll play lacrosse. Donnie proudly noted the monumental accomplishment “considering where he could have been.”
“I wish more coaches and administrators and parents could come to grips with what our kids need,” Reynolds said. “I feel like there are a lot of kids battling with things and people are not coming to grips with the reality of it. Michael proves that you can find a path and be very successful.”