With the Major League Baseball playoffs happening, it reminded me of my playing days. Surprisingly, I did not play Major League Baseball, but rather 'Buddy Ball'. Buddy Ball was the closest thing for people with disabilities.

Buddy Ball was baseball for people with disabilities. Each disabled player had a 'buddy' they were paired with to field the ball and to push them in their wheelchair along the bases when they were at bat. We hit off a T since most quads can't throw a ball to save their life. When your team was on the field, the disabled player would hold his ball cap like a net, and the buddy would field the ball and place it in the hat. If you have seen my hands before, putting a glove on them would be as frustrating as bending a spoon mentally.

One year my parents thought it would be good if my sister would be my 'buddy' for the season. My sister is ten years older than me, and this was during the time of her partying days. She wanted nothing more than to get home at 3 am to wake up at 8 am to play Buddy Ball. I wanted nothing more than to have a hung-over buddy. Nobody would ever have suspected that we would be the most feared players in the game that season.

The first game came around. I saw a spark in my sister. Buddy Ball was intended to get disabled people out doing activities. My sister saw it as a competitive sport that had to be won, where there were winners and losers. She was going to relive her softball days and bring the pennant home to the red team. My sister raced me around the bases more recklessly than in a Fast & The Furious movie. If you rolled in front of us...your wheelchair would be scrap metal, and the buddy would need a buddy for the next game.

The next week my sister had me in the driveway practicing for the next game. My sister thought it took too much time for her to field the ball from the ground and run it over to me and drop it in my hat. She came up with the Buddy Ball game changer - the throw! She had me place my hat on my lap, and she would field the ball and throw it (hard) right into my lap. Needless to say, getting a baseball in the junk wasn't making me feel so good. I never had more of an appreciation for oxygen than I did then. I complained to my sister, and she said, "Walk it off; we need to win"...yes, I appreciate the irony in her reply.

She did not stop there. She made modifications to my wheelchair...it looked like something the A-Team put together. She took off the armrests and feet rests as she thought that was giving too much weight and dragged around the corners when we rounded the bases. By the time she was done, it had looked like a shopping cart as my arms and legs hung over. However, I successfully negotiated to keep the seat belt.

We piled up the wins that season. The play I remember most was the time we got a home run. The team we were playing had a catcher with all four prosthetic limbs. We hit the ball, and my sister pushed my chair so fast I could see my life pass before my eyes. I thought we would stop at 3rd base because the ball was headed home. My sister thought differently, The catcher stumbled to the baseline, and we smashed right into him. All I saw were limbs flying everywhere as we zoomed through. While everyone else was putting the catcher back together, the ref called us 'SAFE!'

We never got invited to play buddy ball again after that season

I learned three things that season:

You should always wear a cup
Pain is temporary, but victory is forever
My sister is pretty awesome

Until next time...