Tiger Bech

Martin "Tiger" Bech, a former college football player and Wall Street trader, died on January 1st, 2025. He was 27.

Fr. Andrew Schumacher spent his Christmas Eve 2024 visiting friends in Lafayette, Louisiana. Marty and Michelle Bech, who with their four children have been a fixture in Lafayette for many years, had invited him over for breakfast and coffee.

When he arrived he was greeted with a warm hug from Michelle. The two Bech boys, Jack and his older brother Martin “Tiger” Bech were both shirtless on the sofa, their dog Zion in between them.

Jack, a record-breaking wide receiver at TCU who just ran at the NFL combine in Indianapolis this week, peeled his athletic frame from the couch to greet the visitor.

“Hey Father, you want some eggs?” offered Jack.

This has dad Marty quickly shouting from the kitchen: “Jack, we don’t have any eggs. Don’t offer the man something I can’t give him.”

Jack shrugged his apologies and sat back down.

Tiger remained on the couch, but he did raise a hand in salute and offered this to the priest.

“Hey Father. I’d get up and give you a hug, but I don’t have any pants on.”

Tiger Bech (even before he was born, his LSU-crazy family never called him Martin) was a force of nature in the purest sense. For 27 years he kept a vigorous pace of life; experiences, relationships and laughter sustaining him like air. He thrived on human connection and drew everyone around him into the warmth of his frenzied orbit.

In what became his last year of life on earth, he blazed a blistering trail of football games watching Jack haul in passes for the Horned Frogs, running with the bulls in Pamplona, visiting the Great Pyramids of Giza, hunting ducks, racking up credit card debt, hustling and laughing his way across the country and the world.

His last day on earth, New Year’s Eve 2024, appropriately captures his voracious appetite for life. The day began with laughs and friends in a duck blind on the Mississippi. It ended with toasts to the new year in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Photo via @SophieBech on Instagram

Tiger was the second of four athletic and active Bech children. Growing up in Lafayette, he excelled in school and on the field, and Marty & Michelle recognized from an early age that this boy of theirs had a special energy about him. Their challenge as parents was learning how to fight the natural protectionism that constantly worried for their son. For years they fought the instinct to pull him back from the risks and challenges he threw himself into.

His unrelenting pace could be aggravating, especially to mentors, coaches, and those who loved him most. Some things require patience. Timing. Delayed gratification. But patience and temperance were never Tiger’s specialities.

One of his high school football coaches may have put it best. A few years after Tiger had matriculated on to Princeton University where he would thrive as a receiver and kick returner, his mother Michelle ran into this old coach, a classically Southern Gentleman with a melodic twang of a voice like a bending metal saw.

“Meechelle, that boy of yours is an ENIGMA. I thought I understood what enigma meant, but I looked it up anyway.

“I can tell you, never in my life will I ever meet anyone else like him.”

Enigma might indeed be the perfect word for Tiger. How else to describe the unapologetic, argumentative jock who followed through on a promise to be an altar server through high school? Sure, he might’ve shown up tired, nodding off in mass, maybe a bit hung over occasionally. But he never missed an assignment. How else to describe this hard-charging partier who ate countless meals with his sisters watching him eat on Facetime because he refused to eat alone?

He left Princeton as a two-time All-Ivy receiver and kick returner on the football field and headed to New York, a job in tech sales awaiting him. A friend eventually referred him to the job he really wanted as a Wall Street trader. The kinetic vitality of the city suited him well, as did the dynamism and challenge of investment banking. He was quickly promoted and impressed his colleagues with his dedication to the firm and genuine love for his work. He could hardly contain his excitement for his job and for how his hard work was paying off. Frequently when catching up with his mother that joy would simply erupt from him: “Mom, I have the BEST life!” he’d tell her.

Jack Bech starts his eulogy for Tiger with an interesting request.

“If you were Tiger’s best friend, please stand up.”

It’s tough to tell exactly how many people stand up in that moment, but about half of those in the camera’s frame leave their seats. The assembly gives a knowing, audible chuckle as if to collectively acknowledge the absurdity.

They all know he couldn’t have been their best friend.

But they were telling the truth. Tiger was their best friend.

Yes, he could test your patience. He could frustrate you beyond the brink. But also he told you “I love you” at the end of every phone call. No matter who you were, his energy drew you in and made you feel loved. That was one of his gifts; he was like a raging, brilliant star teeming with uncontainable force and energy, drawing anything and everything to his overwhelming gravity.

He made you feel important. He made you feel protected. His greatest wish was for you to feel as alive and free as he did every day.

Whether you were on the same football team, a coworker on Wall Street, or a Catholic priest, you couldn’t help but want to be his friend. The aggravation and challenges he presented you gave you an opportunity to hold a mirror up to yourself and your own relationships.

How hard do you love? How willingly do you make amends?

How fearlessly do you live?