Below is the written notes from David’s best friend, Scott Miller. Scott wrote this beautiful eulogy and presented it to all who attended David’s funeral.

Dave’s Tribute:

To Dave’s immediate family as he was growing up: Mr. and Mrs. Sibenac, Eric, Andy, and Amanda;

To Dave’s extended family of in-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins, of which I will not mention by name to try and keep this under 3 hours;

To all of Dave’s friends of which there are more way more than family;

And to Dave’s wife and kids: Nicole, Carly, and Courtney…

I really cannot express the depth of my condolences to you all. Since Sunday morning, it has been a struggle making sense of this. It still doesn’t feel real. Why? Why did such a great person’s life get cut short? If any of you were hoping whatever is said here will in some way answer that, I apologize because my CalU education is extremely limited.

I have called Dave Sibenac my friend for the last 25 years. Would I trust him to teach my son the English language properly? No. Or if the game was on the line and we needed to hit a 28-yard field goal to win? Probably not…but those are maybe his only flaws. You’ll have to forgive me; this is the third time I have crafted a formal speech about Dave. The first time was roughly 14 years ago at his 25th birthday where he was roasted, and then the next time was almost 11 years ago to the day, at he and Nicole’s wedding, where I roasted him again. So, I only know one speed when speaking about Dave, but I’ll try my best.

When I think of Dave, a lot of things come to mind. First and foremost, Dave had confidence in himself that I had never encountered before. He made no apologies for who he was. He was a natural leader. In high school, Dave was friends with everyone purely because everyone wanted to be Dave’s friend. When a 14-year-old kid coming from a small Catholic school to a big scary new public school happened to sit across from him at lunch that first day of 9th grade, he asked me my name, and where did I live?  When I told him I lived in Reserve, I had no idea the impact of what I was saying.  The Reserve connection was something real in High School – Dave cultivated this friendly Reserve Township versus the rest of Shaler Area thing.  Though it was mostly for laughs, I honestly thought in no matter ANY situation, if Reserve was to battle any other neighborhood in ABSOULTELY ANYTHING, Dave was not going to let us lose.

Part of the reason Dave was such a leader in high school was his undeniable athleticism. Three-sport star, which inevitably led to him being inducted into the Shaler Athletic Hall of Fame. Dave was the perfect example of the adage, the equipment does not make the athlete. I remember watching with Dave as other teams took the field for pre-game workouts, and all of their players had the newest most expensive equipment. Dave would just look at me and say, “We are gonna kick the crap out of this team.” And we always did.  In college, he called and caught a no-hitter using the mitt of a friend who never even played organized baseball because Dave misplaced his real mitt.  The friend just had this mitt from 1983 lying around and as a joke he had autographed it with the name “Mike Thunderfarts”. If you are familiar with the movie Tin Cup with Kevin Costner, he beats some club pro in a round of golf using nothing but a shovel and a rake. That was Dave. In 2003, Dave led the Shaler baseball team to one of their best seasons ever and was named co-MVP of the team. He had to split that award with a fellow Reservian, which was alright by him. Dave was the best teammate ever.  He made tough moments easier and was able to slow down the chaos. That extended to off the field as well.

When I found out that Dave was committing to go to Cal U where I was already committed to, I was thrilled. Dave and I were roommates in college for 4 years, and that is all I have to say about that.

Once college was over, is when Dave’s life would take off.

After a few odd jobs, Dave found himself working at Rivers Casino… this was not where he found his life’s work, but it is where he found the love of his life. Nicole Zangaro was some suit working in management, Dave was smitten, and for some reason she agreed to go out with him, and one of  their first dates started with her coming to Lefty’s bar on his 25th birthday as he was in the middle of being roasted… And she still agreed to continue to go out with him. I guess she saw what we all saw in Dave, a light that shines so bright it makes you warm. Dave’s love for Nicole was immense. You could tell he struck gold and knew it. He cherished Nicole.

A few years later, Dave locked that down, and then soon Carly made an appearance. As someone who witnessed Dave during a lot of happy times, I can tell you nothing compared to when he became a father—that was true happiness. Then Courtney showed up, and Dave was brimming with joy. He had achieved the family he always wanted. Dave can be described many ways, but at his core, he is a family man. From the time he was a kid, and would let me come to his family functions, strong family values were very evident. As an outsider to his family, I was incredibly jealous of the family relationship Dave had, and that the Sibenac/Kenny family had and still have. When Dave became a father though, that was when he became the man he was put on this Earth to be.

About 2 years ago, I told him that my wife and I were expecting a child and I’ll never forget what he said. “Mill, it’s about time. You were meant to be a father just like me. Your life is about to change forever, but believe me when I say, you’ll never miss the life you had before.” I’ll never forget that, for a couple reasons—first, because he was right! And I share his advice to any new fathers. Second, I never heard him say anything that eloquent before.

I first realized Dave would be a tremendous father when we were 19 or 20 years old. I never told this story before. Dave and I were coaches at Matijevic’s baseball camp. And for one particular week of camp that year, we were teamed up as coaches (probably not the best idea by old Jerry) to handle the 6- and 7-year-olds. That was the best week of coaching in my life. We had fifteen kids running around wearing helmets that were bigger than their entire body. Not one of these kids knew each other. Watching Dave interact with these kids was impressive. His ability to not only connect with the kids, but have the kids connect with one another was amazing.  By the end of day 2 these kids were all friends with each other and having a blast. Since the kids were so young, Dave and I decided if they learn one thing from us that week, we’d have accomplished something—otherwise our goal was for them to have fun, which was not entirely in line with the program Matulevik wanted us to push. We set up our games with two kids in right field: one to play right field, and the other was on lookout for Matulevik driving around in his golf cart, ready to scream “Break Down” if they saw him coming, which was the code for me or Dave to pretend to give in-depth instruction, until he drove away again. It was the middle of day 3, Dave is pitching to the kids and I am on the bench with the kids who are about to hit. We have our 2 right fielders in position. One kid gets a hit that goes into right field, and in show of athletic display no one was ready for, our fake right fielder chased down the ball and made an unbelievable spin throw into second base. All 17 people on that field went crazy! Kids on the bench were running around high fiving one another for some reason. I was high stepping out to right field to high five our fake right fielder, Dave was high fiving the real short stop who actually caught the ball. It was as if we as a collective group just won the world series.  There was no play at second base or anything, as a matter of fact I don’t think the kid who hit the ball even ran anywhere.  Everyone was just excited to see something impressive happen.  Then what do we hear? “Sibby, Mill, can you come over here?” Matulevik had just pulled up to our field to witness chaos. “What the hell is going on here? These kids’ parents pay good money for them to come here and learn baseball. This looks like a jailbreak.” Dave looked him in the eye and said, “Coach, if these kids aren’t having fun, what is the point? We want them to enjoy the game first, then maybe they’ll keep up with it.” Matulevik looked back at Dave with that white stuff in the corner of his mouth, turned and spit and said, “You know what, Sibby, you’re right, just try to mix in some instruction every inning.” “No problem coach.”  Then Matulevik drove away and we went back to doing what we were doing. At the end of that week, 15 different parents came up to us to thank us directly for making their child’s week so fun and memorable. Matulevik actually gave Dave and I an extra 100 bucks that week, because he too was approached with parents giving him endless thanks and promising to be back every year.. And truth be told, most of that was Dave, because for the last half of the week, I was on lookout for Matulevik because these kids couldn’t be trusted.

Carly, Courtney, do you remember a few days ago when we were sitting around the table making slime? That was the best part of my day. I had so much fun just hanging out reading the instructions incorrectly to you guys and just watching you two make some slime, which turned out pretty good by the way. You didn’t know it but you were making a difference in my day. You were making my day better, without even trying. That was your dad. Your dad did that for everyone he met.

Dave’s gift to the rest of the world was his ability to make others smile. Turning bad days into good ones, strangers into friends. That is not something that can be learned or taught. You must be blessed with that, and he was.

Dave has given me a lot of smiles in the last 25 years, and I suppose it is selfish to want a lot more, but I still consider myself lucky for the memories I have that will last the rest of my life. I know the pain of this will never really heal, and it doesn’t seem fair, because it’s not, but if I really dig down deep, I can find solace in one thing: Dave lived life like a shooting star. It certainly doesn’t last long enough but it is impressive how many lives it can touch and how much it can brighten the world just by existing; it is a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon that will never be forgotten.

I learned a lot from Dave. I learned how to be a friend, a good friend, a best friend.

I’ll miss you buddy.  Thank you for everything did, whether you knew it or not.  I love you.