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Life in the Minors Brendan Sagara |
Bat girl’s ailment
offers perspective
With the 2003 season over for me, this will be my final entry of the summer. As with the previous two summers, I immensly enjoyed sharing my travels and experiences with all of the Star-Bulletin's loyal readers. Once again, thanks for coming along for the ride.
When our right fielder, Ray Goirigolzarri, settled under a shallow fly ball to record the final out of our season last Sunday in our 2-1 win over the Mid-Missouri Mavericks, I was finally able to exhale.
This season had been the longest of the five or so baseball summers of my professional career. I began this season as a pitcher with the Jackson (Miss.) Senators back in April before returning to coach in the Frontier League with its 90-game schedule in early June.
Needless to say, after a summer that had me jump from Jackson to Scottsdale, Ariz., to Hawaii for less than a week, then up to Kenosha, Wis., and then onto a bus to the various nooks, cranies and corners of the Midwest, I was growing a bit weary, especially with our elimination from the playoff race coming with a week remaining in the season.
So as I picked up my notebook from our dugout bench and headed off to our clubhouse, I finally let up for the first time in five months and let myself relax a bit, clearing my lungs with a deep breath of cool Wisconsin air followed by a deep and defeated exhale.
To add to the sheer exhaustion of the season, I had missed the postseason for the first time in my pro baseball career.
After showering up and packing up all of my stuff out of my locker, I headed out to the tent along the right-field line of Simmons Field for our year-end team get together.
It was the usual scene. All of the host families were there along with all of our players, coaches, front-office staff, our owner, and all of the others involved with our season, eating, drinking and talking about the offseason.
Standing at the entrance to the tent was our little bat girl, Mari Pavelich, handing out little presents she and her parents, Dan and Ellen, had wrapped up for each of the team members.
While most of the guys just smiled, gave Mari a hug and walked in, leaving their still-wrapped presents on a table until they left for home, I decided to be different.
I figured that if Mari and her folks were considerate enough to take the time and effort to make all of these gifts for us, the least I could do is take a little time and open my gift, so I could at least thank them for it.
Throughout the season, little Mari provided us with lots of smiles, lots of hustle and a little comic relief to boot. Our precious little grade-schooler would always show up for our home games with her way-too-big, gray Kenosha Mammoths T-shirt, her little tennis shoes, and her little raincoat tied around her waist.
Most of the time Mari just sat there and talked to whoever decided to sit down next to her at the end of the dugout. She'd talk about anything and everything for hours. She'd just sit there and talk and laugh for hours.
Sometimes she talked so much and so fast that I'd just smile and tap her on top of her batting helmet and walk to the other end of the dugout.
She was such a joy to have in our dugout. When one of our guys returned to the dugout after a bad at-bat, they'd be less likely to scream and swear and slam their helmet on the ground with Mari sitting there and smiling at them dead on.
Mari could tame any beast in our dugout with a simple flash of her smile. By the end of the season, Mari could be seen dancing with our second baseman, Josh Landon, or high-fiving our all-star outfielder, Andrew Huling, or even walking through our postgame victory line, fist-bumping along with all of the big boys.
She always seemed to be the happiest little girl in the world.
When I opened up my present, I discovered that it was a Christmas music CD. "Christmas in August," I thought. "That's cool."
Being the music fan I am, I decided to read the liner notes and see what this was all about. When I saw that Mari was listed as the vocalist on track 12, I figured THAT was the reason for the strange-but-very-thoughtful gift.
But still, I read on. Opening up the CD jewel case, I started to read the thank you's from the producer, who turned out to be Mari's dad.
Though it wasn't really a thank you. It was more of a God Bless You.
Mari's dad wrote in the notes, that he decided to put together this album as a fund raiser. It turns out that Mari has a rare disorder called Von Willebrand's Disease.
In short, he continues that VWD prevents her blood from clotting. Upon researching the disorder, Dan discovered that research for the disease is poorly funded and that information about VWD is hard to come by, even for the doctors at the Blood Center in Milwaukee.
They talked about all the tests and drug trials and all the other struggles Mari walked through with a smile. Judging by her demeanor and her disposition, I would have never guessed that such an adorable little smile could front such strength.
After reading the notes, I walked over to Dan and Ellen and told them how touched I was by their gift. Not only because they had been thoughtful enough to give us all something, but because they shared a very private situation with us all.
Funny how your perspective can swing in a heartbeat.
Just 20 minutes ago, I was feeling down because of my long season this year and missing the playoffs. Now, I considered myself fortunate for being able to meet little Mari.
She reminded me how to smile through adversity and to cherish each day.
In the card she attached to each present, Mari thanked us for making her summer unforgettable.
I would thank her for doing the same.
Brendan Sagara, a former University of Hawaii-Hilo pitcher, is in his first season as pitching coach with the Kenosha (Wis.) Mammoths.
