I was in the press-box, keeping the logbook when, at the top of the second inning, the umpire turned to me with an odd look on his face, told me he didn’t feel well, and asked if I could get him some water. Then within a minute, he was unresponsive and going into a seizure. I’ve never witnessed that before and I felt helpless, just standing there as the other umpire and coaches tried to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.
Needless to say, an ambulance came and as the paramedics wheeled the man away, I looked around and saw lots of adults on the field, but not very many children. And especially, none of the boys from our team.
As I headed over to the dug-out to check on them, the boys were all filing back in. I had somewhat expected them to be shaken up, but they weren’t. They were calm. My first thought was that they had stepped out of the dug-out to pitch the ball around to keep warmed up while all the commotion calmed on the field. That they had disregarded or overlooked the urgency that was around them. But then my mom told me that the boys, as a team, went off to pray for the umpire.
I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am that my son is part of that team. One that, without parental guidance, knew what needed to be done, and did it. That they saw a man in trouble and knew they were too young and too inexperienced to lend any physical help or support, so they joined together and sent out a prayer to God.
I know as a parent, I always want to believe that my son or daughter would do the right thing when put to the test. And tonight I got to witness that.
So no matter how the playoff go, they will always be champions to me.