One by one, the Porters Chapel Academy basketball players were called out for pregame introductions.

Instead of the usual handshakes and high-fives, though, they made a beeline straight for the opposite side of the court. There, sitting in a wheelchair in the corner of the gym, was the man who was supposed to lead them this season.

Chris Etheridge waited patiently for each one to cross the court, then gave them a hand slap and a word of encouragement. For a few, the greeting included a hug and a sincere &#8220Thank you,” accompanied by a hint of a tear.

As the games wore on, Etheridge yelled at officials and shouted instructions to his players, even though he was 40 feet from their bench. He cracked jokes like a veteran comedian – often at his own expense – and chatted with his father.

If it weren’t for the empty pants leg that was tucked neatly under him, it would be hard for anyone to tell they were looking at a man who, less than two months earlier, had cheated death.