by: Roena Clarke

It was April 1985. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents and I, and my brother Jimmy, who was 25 years old and in his last days of battling cancer, were headed to Pennsylvania for a fast -pitch softball tournament. Jimmy was an incredible athlete. He was well known in the “ fast pitch softball” region and in our town.  He was that good. Jimmy loved to play shortstop. He shined on the field with his sharp swift movements to get the ball and his ever-so-accurate throws to first base.

And he was known for his hitting.

His “at-bats” were always exciting. He could hit the fence, or clear the fence with what seemed like a normal, casual swing …. But he sent the balls sailing. I loved to watch his “at-bats”.  I had been doing it since I was a little girl – first as he played baseball.. And now, many years of watching him play fast pitch softball.

But this tournament was going to be different. Jimmy was dying of cancer and we knew he would be unable to play this time. But he wanted to be present with his team…. one last time … in the dugout. . And so we went. Hearts excited for the memory of his years of playing ball ….. yet broken-hearted knowing this would be his last time to be with the team.

The last game was headed into the final two innings and we heard some “ gasps” in the stands. I looked up -Jimmy was headed to the short stop position in the field. Tall, lanky, probably not much more than 100 pounds in his 6 foot 4 inch frame …. Bald, skeleton-like in appearance – but he was taking the field and everyone from every team there that weekend were on their feet …. Clapping .. honoring, celebrating, and yes, many young men were seen with tears dripping down their face….. clapping loudly behind their tears.

They all knew his story.

Jimmy was taking the field for one last time. Taking our breath away. But then after the top of that inning was over, we were not expecting what happened next. Jimmy came out of dugout .. and walked up to the plate ..… for his last “at bat”.

The cheers were deafening .. how could he even begin to swing a bat ? But swing a bat he did ….. and as he made his way to first base.. the crowd erupted.

Needless to say I was clapping, crying, celebrating and grieving all at the same time.
It was his last “at bat” … and I had been there to experience it…. Tears and all.

A memory cherished forever.

Last weekend I spent three days at the Davenport Baseball field at University of Virginia, otherwise known as “ THE DISH “. It was the regional college baseball tournament … minimum of six games to be played in three days. There is nowhere I would rather have been. Beautiful weather, lots of fans,  and lots of baseball. And I love baseball. All seems right with the world when I’m at this place.

I went early to the Sunday afternoon game … about an hour early . The crowd was small that day as the home team wasn’t playing until evening.

But I still went and I went early because I love baseball. In that hour before the game started, I suddenly found myself reliving the memories of Jimmy playing in Pennsylvania. It took me by surprise. I felt like Jesus was sitting right next to me … allowing me to experience the JOY in the remembering.

I was remembering the crowds cheering at his last “at bat “ – the tears that flowed at his last “ at bat”. Remembering the GIFT it was to share and be present for his last “at bat”.  Remembering how he gave it his all… at his last “at bat”.

The memories flooded and a few tears trickled down my face. A precious memory – but oh, what a gift it was then, and what a gift it would have been yesterday to have him with me at this college regional game.

I paused, remembered his life. Thanked God for the 25 years I had with him, though I would have longed for 50 more, but it was a tender and almost holy moment to remember for me yesterday, sitting on the hill at the Dish, reliving that last “at bat” in Pennsylvania that took place almost 40 years ago.

Crowds had been present here at the Dish all weekend, and people sitting around me became family. We shared our passion for the sport – for the players, most of them younger than our own children, and found ourselves cheering for each other’s teams when they were not playing against each other.

One team in particular caught my attention. There were two brothers playing on the same college team. Luke and Paul. I watched them intently each time their team played.

And as God would have it, I had the privilege of meeting their mom and learned about their stories and their passion for baseball. She was sitting on the first base side of the stadium, but knew someone sitting near me, so she joined us on the “hill “ for awhile where we sat watching from the third base side. She visited our seats throughout the weekend.

I had not seen her at all Sunday and her boys were on the field playing the early game. I had hoped she would come for a brief visit, so we could have our good-byes, as it appeared that their team would be eliminated after this game, and head back home to NY.

Headed into the last two innings of the game, I saw her walking towards me. The others she knew in our “group” were not there at that time, so I stood to greet her.

As she got closer, I looked at Home Plate. Her oldest son, who had just graduated a few weeks ago, was at bat. I looked at his mom …. Who had tears coming down her face …. And she said “that’s Paul – my oldest ..and this is his last at- bat of his college career …you may not want to stand here with me .. I’m a mess ..”

She said it over and over ‘this is his last – at-bat . And then she looked at me, tears flowing … and said “but … I would love for you to stand here with me if you’d like to … “

I put my arm around her shoulder and said quietly – “ I would love to share this moment with you.”

Little did she know I had spent an hour that morning, in this very space …. reliving my own “last at -bat “ moment from almost 40 years ago.

With tears dripping down MY face .

I never shared my story with her – this moment was about HER son …..and she had invited me to join into it with her …and I embraced it fully.

And in some small way – it was a full -circle moment.

Experiencing another “last at bat” ….but this one deep down – was joyful for all. Paul got a huge hit – he ended his collegiate baseball career with a hit.

Though they lost the game, he went out on a win! His mom and I hugged … tightly … and celebrated the wonderful five year baseball journey of her son.

She thanked me over and over for sharing the moment and tears with her.

She then shared with me that he had a major hip injury his senior year of high school  and they thought his baseball years were done. But he fought back … hard … determined … and had a wonderful five years of college ball post injury.

Her son’s last  “at bat” was one she will always remember.

And little does she know – I will too.

Both of these young men … giving their all … at what they each knew was their last “at bat”

Both of these young men – teaching me so much in that moment.

Challenging me in my own journey — for we never know just how long we will be on this side of the veil. We never know how many more “at bats” we may encounter.

We “come up to bat” often …. Up “to bat” In conversations, in the brokenness of this world we live in. We come up to bat with opportunities to share the Gospel—and we come to bat with situations where we can be the hands and feet of Jesus to those around us.

There may be a time for each of us, like each of these young men, where we KNOW we are at our last “at bat,”  but more often than not, we never know when that last “at bat “ will take place.

So how do we live each moment of our lives? We need to live as if each moment is our “last at bat“ and give it our all.

Embrace the moment fully,  each conversation, each opportunity to serve, each opportunity to be present with someone in whatever season they may find themselves in.

Almost Forty years apart and yet these two “last at bat” experiences are forever etched in my heart.

And I will always treasure them both.

What an invitation I had at the DISH. To be present with this mom, to celebrate with tears …and joy ….. her son’s last “at bat.”

Of the almost 7000 people present at that stadium … I’m thankful God allowed me that moment ….. to stand with this mom and watch Paul.

In some small way it seemed like a full-circle moment. And I’m forever grateful.