‘KEV-in! KEV-in!’: The sports stories that don’t get told

This is not a “Casey At The Bat” story. It is better.

A young man steps awkwardly into the batter’s box. He is of average height. His legs are stiff as two closet dowels and almost as thin, yet he leans over the plate with an air of confident determination.

He peers out from beneath a blue plastic helmet that is just a little too big. The short sleeves and baggy shorts of his orange uniform hang loosely on his narrow frame. They are sugared with spots of dust from two days of softball on a dry late-summer weekend under cloudless skies in Springfield.

With his right hand only, he raises his bat like a tennis racket over his right shoulder. His left arm stretches in front him toward the pitcher, his hand curled inward toward his body. He awaits the pitch.

And then, a chorus erupts from the dugout behind him.

“KEV-in! KEV-in! KEV-in!” his teammates shout. They are all standing. Some are jumping. Their bodies tensed. Their faces beaming with hope.

They are behind 15 to nothing in the final inning.

The pitcher underhands the first pitch. It is slightly off the mark.

“Ball!” the umpire cries, then adds, “Move a little closer to the plate, Kevin. There you go.”

The chorus resumes from the dugout.

“KEV-in! KEV-in! KEV-in!”

The second pitch follows a gentle arc toward the plate. Kevin swings and misses.

“Strike one,” the umpire declares. “Nice swing, Kevin. Keep your eye on the ball.”

Two more pitches follow, each preceded by the hopeful cheers from behind the batter. Before each one, he bows slightly toward the plate and glares confidently toward the mound. By now, every player in both dugouts, everyone in the stands, everyone within eyeshot of the field is rooting for Kevin to get a hit.

He does not. He curries hope with one foul after another, but under the rules of Special Olympics, which do not forgive two-strike fouls, Kevin is out. The game is over.

And yet his team is cheering. Kevin strides stiffly toward his waiting teammates, who clap him on the back with shouts of “Way to go!” and “Nice try!” and “You almost had it!”

You did not read of Kevin’s strikeout or his team’s fourth-place finish in the Illinois Special Olympics Softball Tournament last weekend. You did not read about any of the heroics on the field or the teams that hoisted plastic trophies overhead. These, it seems, are not stories that translate well to the television screen or the printed page.

There are no celebrated feats of prowess, no towering 400-foot grand slams, no hundred-mile-an-hour curve balls. No chances for World Series glory or singular achievement. Sure, there is excitement here at wins and disappointment at losses, but not quite the same thrill of victory or agony of defeat that stir our cheers or plunge us into grief in conventional sports games.

It is common today to hear boors demean a certain approach to sports that honors those who simply demonstrate the courage of showing up.

“Kids get medals these days just for not putting the uniform on backwards,” they spit.

“Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser,” they scoff.

They don’t know Kevin. Or his teammates. Or his coaches.

We are coming to the end of the long Major League Baseball season. The Cubs are mounting a valiant run for a playoff spot. The White Sox are not. The Bears have stirred the city’s hopes with a first-game victory in the 2024 NFL season. These are worthy and powerful, uplifting and heartbreaking, stories.

Nor am I arguing that Special Olympics is ignored in the press. You see the occasional pictures in the paper, the periodic plunges into icy waters to raise money. And perhaps you think them charming. Sweet. Cute.

But behind them are so many important stories like Kevin’s that yearn to be told. Stories that evoke the purity of the human spirit. That feature dedicated athletes combining personal achievement and devotion to teamwork in the best tradition of sport as boldly as any World Series champion. Stories that need no score, no winner, no loser, no clever pre- or post-game analysis.

So, enjoy the familiar themes that fill the Sports pages and fuel our dreams and fill us with wonder and awe. But remember this story, too.

It brings joy to Mudville, even if Kevin strikes out.

• Jim Slusher, jslusher@dailyherald.com, is managing editor for opinion at the Daily Herald. Follow him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jim.slusher1 and on X at @JimSlusher. His new book “Conversations, community and the role of local news” is available at eckhartzpress.com.