No One Asked Me But… (August 27, 2014)

By DR. LARRY MOSES

No one asked me but… I was recently in Las Vegas watching my grandson Casey play shortstop for the Centennial High School Bulldogs. The Centennial team had their ace on the mound, a youngster who has drawn as many as forty scouts to a game to see him fire off his over ninety mile-an-hour fast ball. He was successful in shutting down the team from Cimarron in the first inning. The first two batters for the Bulldogs grounded out to the opposing pitcher.
My grandson who was not hitting in his usual number two spot was the third consecutive ground out to the opposing pitcher. As the teams changed sides, I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard “Hi, Grandpa Moses.” I looked up and said “Hi, Billy, how long you home for?”
Three years ago Billy was playing second base for the Centennial High School Bulldogs. Billy was the Centennial second baseman from the time he was a sophomore through his senior year. By his junior year he was one of the best second basemen in the city and in his senior year he was the best.
“I am home until Monday,” he said.
The second inning went by with neither team scoring, but by then I was in a deep conversation with the young man who had taken time to speak to the old man watching the ball game. I had seen Billy play often as my oldest son is a coach with the Centennial team. I know Billy well as he was more often than not at my son’s house when we would get together in Las Vegas. My oldest grandson is two years older than Billy and my youngest is four years younger, Billy kind of fit in as the middle son.
In the third inning, the Cimarron team put runners on first and second and a single scored one run and left runners on first and third with two out. There was a routine ground ball to my grandson and the usually sure handed kid kicked the ball and another run scored. The pitcher got the next batter to fly out and the Bulldogs were down two to nothing.
Billy had gone on to play ball at the community college, but he was young and for the first time in his life he was not a starter as he competed with men three and four years older than himself.
As the frustration set in Billy decided to take a turn in his life and enlisted in the United States Army. In typical Billy fashion, he volunteered for the elite Ranger training. When an injury late in the vaunted program sent him back to a regular army unit, he was deployed to Iraq where has spent nearly a year. The young man was home for a two week leave and took time to come see his Centennial Bulldogs and “little brother” play.
Billy told me my grandson Casey planned to have a better sophomore year than Billy and it made Casey mad when he messed up with Billy watching.
As the innings moved on, the young soldier and the old Marine talked of careers past and present. Both spoke with pride of the units in which they served or serve. Then Billy surprised this old Marine by saying he really appreciated the Corps. He explained his unit was allowed two beers in the usually alcohol free Iraq to help the Marine unit nearby celebrate the Marine Corp Birthday on November 10.
The game had moved to the fifth inning and Bulldogs came to bat down two runs. They quickly loaded the bases and two singles scored two runs. Two outs were made before Casey came to bat. He delivered a three run triple and the inning ended with Centennial up six to two.
I asked Billy what his plans were when his four year enlistment was up. I wondered if he would re-up. He said no, though he quickly added he felt he owed his time in the Army to his country. He explained he would finish his year tour in Iraq and after thirty days back in the States he would be deployed to Afghanistan. He would then leave the Army and finish his college degree and go into law enforcement.
He indicated that his sisters worried too much about his safety for him to stay in. I found it interesting that his sisters’ worry seemed to bother him more than his parents’. I guess we get use to our parents’ worry.
In the sixth inning, a Cimarron batter hit a two run homerun. There was no more scoring in the game and Centennial won their game six to four.
After the game, Casey came to the fence, as he always does and thanked me for coming. But my son who always comes to the fence to see me off was not there. I looked into left field and he was hitting ground balls to Billy who once again was a second basemen for the Centennial Bulldogs. For those brief moments, he was not the young warrior defending his country; he was merely a kid again.
By the time you read this column, Billy will once again be patrolling the streets of some obscure village in Iraq fielding the dangers of combat rather than a round white ball in the green outfield of a Las Vegas ball park.
While Billy and I were talking, he was standing and someone asked if he was standing between some fans in the bleachers blocking their view of the field of play. All I could think was Billy is standing between a whole lot more than a ball field and those fans.

Thought of the week…To be a warrior is not a simple matter of wishing to be one. It is rather an endless struggle that will go on to the very last moment of our lives. Nobody is born a warrior, in exactly the same way that nobody is born an average man. We make ourselves into one or the other.
– Carlos Casteneda

I wrote this column in April of 2010. After four combat deployments, Billie is home and fighting the demons of PTS. Every day Billie gets better and is working on putting his life back together. There are hundreds of young Americans who have “stood in the door for us.” It is time we thank them and make sure they get whatever treatment they may need to get on with their lives.