Just me & Billy
A couple years ago, I attended a gala in Fogelsville held to celebrate and kick off the opening of Miracle Field, a Lehigh Valley-region baseball diamond built so kids with disabilities could safely enjoy some sport and fresh air.
Kostas Kalogeropoulos, hotelier, philanthropist and founder, Camelot for Kids, was keynote speaker.
“I could tell you all about the beautiful field, its scoreboard that puts the kids names in lights, the accessible dugouts and more. But why listen to me, when the kids themselves can tell you.”
Two young men, both wheelchair users, took the stage. One was 12 year-old Zach K.
“I always have to go see my brother and sister when they have sporting events,” he said into the mike as his mom, Tamara, looked on, smiling. “Now, I like that they’re going to have to come see me play.”
He got a very hearty round of applause.
On opening day and throughout the field’s first and second season, Zach did play. Sometimes he was strong enough to make the bases on his crutches, other times he got some assistance from an “Angel in the Outfield” as he rounded the bases in a wheelchair.
I lost track of Zach and his family following a trip to see the first 3-D animated movie at Rave. My editor, who was covering the film, was able to get a couple extra tickets for the screening. I’ve even lost track of the photo I took of Zach and his mom at the Miracle Field gala with Representative Charlie Dent.
Zach often crossed my mind, though. I wondered how he was doing, but then life would get in the way, and I’d forget.
Just before the holidays, I found Zach. A Facebook friend posted a connection to what I expected to be his personal blog.
As I read recent posts, my heart sank. While Miracle Field sits idle in winter, Zach, now 14, is also idle, waiting for a miracle himself at St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children near Philly.
Two spinal taps in three days. Trips to the ICU. The SCU. Lots of procedures I’ve never heard of, and none of them sounded very pleasant. Measurements of white cells, blood counts, lung issues. I rarely understand much of Tamara’s posts.
Zach clearly has lots of fans, however. Posts from as far away as Kansas and Texas poured in after each new entry. “You’re the strongest fighter we know, Zach!” “We’re thinking of you” and “Sending prayers to heaven, this many can’t be ignored” are common themes.
This week, that changed.
After I “found” Zach, I called my friend Billy Staples, author of Before the Glory, a book about the rise of America’s great baseball players that has done very well, at least according to the New York Times bestseller list.
Billy had met Zach at Miracle Field. Or maybe at a gala. Honestly, I just can’t remember.
It took about 20 minutes for Billy, who a mutual friend describes as having “more energy than a case of Red Bull” to spring to action.
A couple days later, I got a call. Billy was cruising back to the ‘Valley with none other than Matt McBride of the Cleveland Indians fame. They had been to visit Zach.
“He was doing OK until we were about to leave,” said Billy, who had promised Zach some real excitement this spring, once he got better. “Then tears streamed from his eyes. But it’s OK. I have another surprise planned for him.”
The next day, Tamara’s post was frightening. Zach had some bad test results, and he was going to have to be vented. Whatever that meant.
I called Billy in a panic. “You know, nobody knows what could happen tomorrow. Zach could get out of bed and walk out the door in perfect health. I’m just sayin.’ If you had another surprise, maybe you should do it now.”
“OK,” he said, crunching the phone to his ear using his shoulder as he packed for another road trip, another speaking engagement.
“I’m going to give you the cell and home numbers for Jon Runyan. I’m going to call him, and so are you.”
Call an Eagles player? To visit a sick fan? During PLAYOFFS?
Why not.
I dialed the cell, with no little guilt. I’m not a real sports person, and worried it would show through.
Thank goodness, it went straight to voice mail. I left a halting message, trying to sound both really sincere and honest and really convincing and yet strong, like Zach.
Billy did the same, though I’m sure with more panache.
We heard nothing.
“I suspect he’s not even getting messages,” Billy said. I agreed. “It’s a huge game this weekend. Well, we did what we could.”
This morning, here’s what was posted on Zach’s CarePage:
ZACH and JON RUNYAN. http://www.carepages.com/carepages/ZachSK.
The messages from Zach’s fans became much more exciting.
“I’m jealous!” “I hope you shared your strategies with Big Jon!” “Soooooo cool…!” and, my favorite, “Ain’t God good!”
I can’t stop thinking about that one.
Following Jon’s visit, Zach’s numbers improved. Was it God? Jon Runyan? Or just me & Billy.
I’m not a religious person, but when things like this happen, I always wonder how those great connections are made. Billy Staples — where in the cosmos did he come from, and how did he get Jon Runyan’s cell number….? I don’t know Jon Runyan, but I now love the man. Like Billy and his mentors, Big Jon knows what true power is. It’s not smashing an opponent into the astroturf (though that’s always fun to watch). It’s the awesome power that builds when the strong help the weak. It seems when the powerful take a moment to acknowledge and lift up another, something important seems to happen. Respect grows. Bridges are built. Healing begins. Even during The Playoffs.
Keep fighting Zach.
