Two Choices; Make Sure Your Kleenex box is Handy

        At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

                ‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay cannot learn things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

                The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who is mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

                Then he told the following story:

                Shay and I walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, do you think they will let me play?’ I knew that most of the boys would not like someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

                I approached one of the boys and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘we are losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we will try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning.

                Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I walked with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

                In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs, but still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

                In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again. Now with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base, and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away the game?

                Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.  However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

                The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over.

                The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.  Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.

                Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, “Shay, run to first! Run to first!” Never in his life has Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!” Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, beaming and struggling to make it to the base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. He was smallest guy on the team and now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the first baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions, so he, intentionally threw the ball high, and far over the third baseman’s head. Shay ran towards third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases towards home. All were screaming, “Shay, Shay, Shay, all the way Shay!”
                Shay reached third base, because the opposing short stop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted “Run to third!, run to third, Shay, run to third!” As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and spectators, were screaming, “Shay, run home! Run home!”
                Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as a hero who hit the grand slam and won the Grand Slam for his team.

                That day, said the father softly, with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from both teams helped to bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.

                Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day.