And so the story of Jack Trice is nearly written.

Trice, a poor black man from Hiram, Ohio, will likely get his shot at honor as Cyclone Stadium withers away for a better name, a more worthy label.

Commentary

They’ll call it Jack Trice Stadium, and it will mean something.

It will mean a hero has been justly recognized. It will mean Iowa State is not, at least entirely, about the dollar. It will mean hope and courage are still cherished attributes. It will mean one man with a dream for a larger people really can steer the wheels of time away from hate and prejudice.

For that Trice had to die. But he did not die without reason.

Because it, too, will mean something for the Iowa State students who fought for 22 years to see the winds of change blow through Trice’s stadium.

For two decades they have said we mustn’t forget. We will not. We can’t.

“Daddy, who was Jack Trice?” the child sitting in his stadium will ask.

And we will answer. We will say he was a man who was ahead of his time, a man who knew what was right. We’ll say he was a man who captured hearts, a man who died playing a game many said he couldn’t.

Above all, we’ll say he was a man of honor.

“The honor of my race, family and self is at stake,” Trice wrote to himself shortly before the game that killed him.

For 22 years, Iowa State students have argued that Trice has failed not his race, nor his family, nor himself. Many have agreed. Many have not.

On Monday, ISU President Martin Jischke likely put the arguments to rest. Jischke called Trice a hero. He called on the regents to do the right thing, to rename the stadium.

We can now look back on two things: the plight of a great, simple man, and the plight of those who would not forget.

Both are important. Both demonstrate valuable lessons.

The first is the historic triumph of truth over discrimination and bigotry.

The second is more subtle. It’s the timeless crusade of the continuing Iowa State student to bring honor to Trice.

The lesson is a tired one, one easy to forget, but one Trice knew well: Devote yourself completely. Be relentless and “be on your toes,” Trice told us.

On his toes, Trice was.

For 22 years, so were we.

And in the end, we both won.