WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Stars Are People Too

     It was the summer of 1981, possibly the best summer of my life. Okay, maybe 1985 rivals it- that was the summer I began hanging out with a classmate at Appalachian State University. Thirty-five years later, for whatever reason, she still likes hanging out with me- and has indicated that she is likely to hang out with me until death do us part, assuming I behave.
     But 1981 was memorable as well. After completing my junior year of high school, I was a member of the state champion American Legion baseball team from Cherryville, NC. The entire experience was a blast. As we made our run through the playoffs, more and more fans showed up at our games. So fanatical were these followers that they often arrived at the field before we players did, forcing officials to block off parking spots for us. As we made our way into the park, there were usually dozens of well wishers to greet us along the way. It was the closest I've ever come in my life to appreciating what it felt like to be a celebrity. We were the toast of the town.
     On one particular evening, the crowd was bigger and louder than ever and I was pumped up to play. During one of my At Bats, I fouled a pitch up into the portable bleachers that had been brought in to accommodate the large crowds. I noticed a bit of a commotion in the area where the ball had landed but didn't think much about it. We went on to win the game and continue our streak so I was in a good mood after the game. At least until I was told that the foul ball I had hit landed directly in the eye socket of a fan in the stands. Ironically, that fan happened to be a family friend who was like a second mom to me.
     Myra ended up being okay but had a huge shiner for the remainder of our run through the playoffs. Of course I was not responsible for her injury in a deliberate sense, but I still felt a degree of guilt so I promised I would try to hit a homerun for her during the state championship game- a promise I was able to keep.
     In a recent Major League baseball game in Houston, a Chicago Cubs player named Albert Almora smacked a line drive into the stands near the third base dugout. Unfortunately the ball struck a 4-year-old girl who was seated beside her father a few rows from the field. Said Almora after the game- "As soon as I hit it I looked in the stands and my eyes locked on to her and I saw it hit her." It was an awful moment for Almora, and even though it was obviously not his fault, he felt distraught. He watched as the child's father rushed her up the aisle and out the nearest exit.
     A discussion about safety at ballparks and potential solutions would be appropriate at this point, but that is not the point of this writing. First, I will say that from all accounts, it appears the little girl is doing well and will recover in due time. The family has decided to try to keep the matter as private as possible. Understandable.
     What I found truly mesmerizing was the scene a few minutes later when Almora went over to the spot where the incident occurred and spoke to the female security guard who was stationed in the section where the little girl had been sitting. Apparently he wanted to hear the security guard's version of what she saw and experienced, seeking reassurance that the girl was conscious when she was whisked away.
     Realizing that this huge, strong, bigger-than-life professional baseball player was overcome with emotion during their discussion, the security guard wrapped her arms around Almora and pulled his head to her shoulder, where he began to sob uncontrollably while she cradled him-  much like a mom would cradle a child whose heart had been broken by some type of life calamity. Of course, the little girl was the primary victim, but in some way, I can't help but feel some sympathy for Almora as well.
     Society treats celebrities plenty well. They tend to make gobs of money and have opportunities in life most people could never even dream of. Everywhere they go, people smile at them and say mostly nice things to them. They receive praise and admiration and have fan clubs. People want selfies with them. They get to live in nice homes in nice neighborhoods and fly first class on airplanes. I don't feel sorry for them. And I'm not asking anybody else to feel sorry for them.
     But alas, they are human. They have feelings. They have insecurities, fears, frustrations, and challenges like anybody else. I think society tends to dehumanize those who are in the public eye a little too much. When most of us make a mistake, a few folks near and dear to us tend to know about it. If someone in the public eye makes a mistake, the whole world knows about it and they become fodder for late night talk shows.
     The Bible tells the story of the Disciple Peter's growing fame after the ascension of Jesus. As Peter and the disciples took the good news of Jesus' redemptive sacrifice and resurrection throughout the land, they became celebrities of sorts, especially Peter. Acts 10:25-26 tells of a fascinating encounter between Peter and one of his admirers- "When Peter entered, Cornelius met him, and fell at his feet and worshiped him. But Peter raised him up, saying, 'Stand up, I too am just a man'."
     Human beings who achieve earthly fame don't deserve the "celebrity worship" many people practice in their presence. And I won't disagree that many celebrities are spoiled and out of touch. But the scene in the ballpark that night in Houston reminded me that they are nonetheless human. And for a few seconds, Albert Almora discarded his celebrity, let down his guard, and demonstrated his humanity by placing his head on the shoulder of a loving, temporary surrogate mom, who held him while he sobbed. And in doing so, both of them showed us all that deep down, we are all human and in many ways, we are all alike.