Scott was throwing things and hitting his mark at the age of three.  His idea of an educational toy was to take puzzle pieces or blocks, and see how many he could toss into one of those round glass bedroom light fixtures.  One day, this three year old kid took all of my tomatoes outside to see how many times he could hit a spot on our house while standing across the street.  He just loved to throw things.  So baseball was a perfect sport for him.  (He was a handful from day one.)

We had gone to Miami to watch him play.  He hit a ball to the fence and flew--all the way around the bases into home.  But the ball arrived at home plate at the same moment he did, so he dove head first into the catcher--arm and fingers extended to the plate as far as he could reach.  He hit the catcher dead center with his head and went flying.  Up.  A ten year old kid testing the limits of his speed.

Knocked him out.  Cold.  I knew he was unconscious because when he went up into the air over the plate, he was limp before he hit the ground.  The ambulance got him to the hospital and Ken and I sat down by his hospital bed and waited.  The doctor didn't give us any encouragement.

But after four or five hours, he started to move, mumble and open his eyes.  And of course, being Scott, the first words out of his mouth were, "Was I safe, or was I out?"  To tell you the truth, I don't remember.  I was so glad he hadn't broken his neck, or ended up in a permanent coma.

He proceeded to play baseball all his school and college years.  But he never learned to play it safe.  He tore up his shoulder, knee, knocked his front teeth out, and had six major concussions before it was over.  The price of the game for him was pain.  But he still plays.  Behind the plate.   Umpiring girls softball, or high school or college baseball.  Whatever comes along, he's out there.  Playing the game.  And now he has a son coaching at Neosho County CC, who were the number one team in the nation rankings last week.  "My dad taught me the game," Ben says.  "I just tell my boys to do what my dad taught me to do." Scott had a passion and love for the game and he handed it down to Ben.