Obituaries

Rest easy my friend.

Posted by Alan Legg on July 26, 2026

After you have lost a friend who was such a constant in your life, how do you move forward? I’ve been asking myself that question ever since Mike left us. How do you accept that there won’t be another phone call, another concert, another ballgame, another community event, or another conversation where you somehow managed to solve the world’s problems before laughing about something completely unrelated? Mike was one of those rare people who became a constant in my life. We shared concerts in Pittsburgh and Las Vegas, sporting events, community celebrations, and more social gatherings than I can count. When we were returning home from Prague, he didn’t hesitate to offer to drive ten hours just to pick up me, Brian, and the friends who had traveled with us. We never took him up on the offer, but that wasn’t the point. The offer itself said everything about the kind of man Mike was. If someone he cared about needed him, distance didn’t matter. He was already figuring out how to help. That was simply who he was. Anyone who knew Mike knew his heart belonged to WVU. He wore that Mountaineer blue with pride and took great pleasure in reminding me that Marshall wasn’t quite on the same level—at least according to him. That friendly rivalry never got old. It was part of who we were, part of the conversations and laughs we shared, and I’d give anything to hear one more jab from him about Marshall athletics. But what mattered most to Mike was his family. The love he had for them was obvious in everything he did. They were his greatest joy and his greatest pride. He also loved the Clarksburg Italian Heritage Festival. It was one of those traditions that brought him happiness—a chance to celebrate his heritage, reconnect with friends, and enjoy the community he loved. Over the years, Mike and I talked about everything—sports, history, politics, travel, work, family, and life. We didn’t always agree, but somehow we always found common ground. That’s what true friendship looks like. One thing that always amazed me about Mike was his humility. It took years of knowing him before he finally shared one of the most incredible stories of his life—that when he was a young baseball player, Joe DiMaggio had come to watch him play. Most people would have led with a story like that. Mike never did. He shared it only after years of friendship, almost as if it wasn’t a big deal. That was Mike. He never needed recognition or attention. He was just proud of the memories and the people who were part of his journey. Mike also had a way of turning the simplest moments into stories that lasted for years. One of his favorites was the time I was at the Folio house and helped myself to what I thought was a nice portion of green beans. Mike looked at me and told me they weren’t green beans—they were peppers. He laughed about that story for years and would bring it up every now and then just to remind me. I’d laugh with him every time, but now I’d give anything to hear him tell it one more time. Mike knew everyone. Everywhere you went, someone knew Mike, had a story about him, or a memory that made them smile. But while Mike knew everyone, if you were fortunate enough to truly be his friend, consider yourself lucky. Because Mike gave you something priceless. He gave you his loyalty. He gave you his time. He gave you his generosity. He gave you his heart. Once you were part of Mike’s circle, you had a friend for life. His passing leaves an emptiness that can never truly be filled. After you lose someone who has been such a constant in your life, you don’t really move on—you simply move forward carrying them with you. You find them in the songs you hear, the games you watch, the stories you tell, and the laughter that comes from remembering the moments you shared. Thank you, my friend, for every conversation, every laugh, every game, every concert, every story, every debate, and every act of kindness. Thank you for being one of the constants in my life. I’ll miss you beyond words. I hope there’s a WVU game to cheer for, friends gathered around sharing stories, and maybe even Joe DiMaggio waiting to hear one more baseball story. Until we meet again, my friend. As Mike would say… bada bing, bada boom

Posted by Leigh Ann Trippett on July 26, 2026