Kalani Sitake, the beloved head coach of BYU football, is widely admired for his leadership, his faith, and his ability to inspire young athletes. But this week, an anonymous letter from a children’s hospital has revealed a side of Sitake that few—if any—outside of a small medical team knew about. And the revelation has left thousands across the nation in tears.
The letter, sent by a hospital staff member and shared anonymously on social media, expresses deep, heartfelt gratitude to Coach Sitake for donating his rare blood type nearly 100 times over the past five years to children battling cancer.
> “Coach Sitake came quietly, without media or fanfare. He would sit in the donor chair with a warm smile, ask how the kids were doing, and leave without seeking any recognition,” the letter revealed.
Hospital officials confirmed that Sitake’s blood type is uncommon, making his donations critical in life-or-death situations for children in need of transfusions during cancer treatments. Over the years, these donations have played a direct role in saving and extending young lives.
One nurse recalled moments when families would cry tears of relief after learning a matching blood donor had been found—without ever knowing that the man behind it was the head coach of a major college football program.
The letter included a story of a young boy named “Mason,” who received Sitake’s blood during a critical stage of treatment. “He got to go home for Christmas that year because of Coach,” the note read.
Reactions online have been overwhelming. BYU fans, alumni, and even rival programs flooded social media with messages praising Sitake as “the ultimate role model,” “a true man of God,” and “a champion off the field.”
Sitake has not made any public comment on the matter, but those close to him say he prefers the spotlight stay on the children and the urgent need for more blood donors.
In a world where headlines often highlight controversy and scandal, this letter is a reminder that the greatest victories are not always won on the scoreboard—they are won in hospital rooms, in quiet acts of service, and in the lives that are forever changed.
