Posted on January 6, 2017
In Memory of Levente Zentai
“A person who loves the game cannot be a bad person…”
During our careers, we have learned that this saying is not always true.
But Levi came from a generation for whom passion, integrity and ambition were fundamental values, both as a player and as a coach.
And around those values, a network of friendships grew naturally.
Twenty Years of Friendship
It was around twenty years ago when we travelled to a neighbouring city for a youth game and first met as coaches.
I still remember Levi standing on the sideline in his characteristic grey sweatpants and red top, his slim figure somehow elegant even while he lived through every moment of the game together with the children.
How could that energy not have affected us too?
The coaching profession is naturally competitive.
Ernest Hemingway once suggested that writers could never truly be friends because they were always competing with one another.
There is something similar in coaching.
We compete constantly.
And yet Levi was one of those people who allowed that relationship to grow beyond professional respect.
We played against each other almost every month, but that never stood in the way.
His open and friendly view of the world would not allow time, competition or the events of basketball life to create distance between us.
Whenever he saw us, his arms would open wide and he would greet us loudly and sincerely.
Thinking about Nyíregyháza always felt good because Levi would never allow us to visit without meeting him.
For us, the city and Levi became inseparable.
A Life Built Around Basketball
The name Levente Zentai represented a way of life.
And it will continue to do so for as long as people remember him.
He left a lasting mark on basketball culture in Nyíregyháza and, through that, on the wider history of Hungarian basketball.
He did much more than teach the game as an outstanding educator.
Whenever basketball needed something, Levi found a role.
He looked for tasks.
He looked for solutions.
And he drew energy from the magic of the game.
Whether the job involved:
- coaching,
- organising competitions,
- technical responsibilities,
- or federation work,
it was difficult to imagine the environment without him.
With that personality, it was easy for people across the country to appreciate him.
We relied on him.
Because he did not live only for himself.
He lived for the game.
And, in many ways, for all of us who shared it with him.
Family and Friendship
Perhaps he could give so much because he also had a wonderful family waiting for him.
His three daughters accompanied him throughout his life.
Levi’s family became close to ours too, largely because of his loyalty and his desire to keep people connected.
He never wanted us to miss an opportunity to spend an entire day talking about basketball.
When our closest friends and family spent summer holidays in Balatonfüred, Levi would often organise family life in such a way that we could spend at least a week together by the lake.
Those days created countless memories that once seemed temporary but now feel permanent.
Cleaning fish at night in a car park under the light of a street lamp.
Fishing at dawn.
Levi teaching tricks not only to my two sons.
The four children creating an atmosphere that became part of our friendship as adults.
It was good to see that another bond had formed between us.
Two coaching friends from Debrecen rarely missed those summer days either.
Levi fitted naturally into the group.
And, inevitably, we spent hours exercising our minds, trying to solve the problems of basketball and imagining how we might somehow change the game for the better.
Always There
In recent years, hardly a month passed without us talking for at least a minute or two.
Sometimes Levi needed encouragement.
Not often.
He always tried to stay on course.
For coaches, that can seem easy when the world around us is in order, because family and team have a way of putting everything else into perspective.
Now Levi is gone.
And it hurts deeply.
Because he leaves behind an emptiness.
Not only for his family, but also for those of us who counted on him being there.
Only after hearing the news did we truly realise how many things had remained unsaid between us.
The Last Goodbye
People say death does not choose.
On November 23, we played in Nyíregyháza.
Levi came to watch us together with his younger daughter.
I can still hear the warm, appreciative words he said after the game as we talked before leaving.
He found it difficult to say goodbye.
We even laughed about the fact that we must have shaken hands thirteen times, because he simply did not seem ready to leave until we finally departed.
At the time, I had no idea that this would be our final farewell.
What Remains
Levi left us today.
The devastating news, and the reaction of my family, made one thing clear to me:
we will never forget him.
It hurts to think that one great victory he deeply longed for remained unfinished — a championship title that perhaps could have carried his spirit even further.
So I will continue, partly for him as well, what we both believed in.
The game.
The game without which one can live — but why would you want to?
His passing once again reminds me of what matters.
Why we get up every morning while we still can.
I will try to live with greater dignity.
I will try to work a little for Levi too.
And I hope that one day, when another great success comes, we will be able to dedicate part of it to his memory.
Rest in peace, Levi.
Dr. Ágoston Nagy
Debrecen, January 6, 2017
