Reward Comes in the Giving

Omar Marquez is, oh, three feet tall, four tops, and he is digging in at home plate against an actual New York Yankee. The month is January, which is not exactly spring, but this does not matter one bit to Omar because today happens to be a beautiful day to be playing baseball. And besides, this is his first official at-bat against a pitcher from the major leagues.

Omar taps his bat on the plate. You have heard of a belt-high fastball? Omar is a belt-high batter. He only comes up to the pitcher’s waist.

“Now batting,” the P.A. announcer announces, “a 32-time All-Star, lifetime average of .733--Omar!”

The pitcher, Jim Abbott, shoots the batter a look. Minutes before, Abbott had been giving young Omar some pitching tips. Now the kid was up there looking to rip one. Up there looking confident, aggressive.

So, Abbott fires a fastball five feet behind him.

“Ball-- way inside!” the shocked announcer says, as the ball bangs off the backstop. “Abbott looks wild out there today!”

Omar backs out of the box. He makes a face. He gives Abbott a look. Back into the batter’s box he steps, cautiously. He takes his stance.

Abbott changes speeds. In comes the pitch, slowly. Omar takes his cut. He makes contact.

The ball goes flying, 300, 350 . . . uh, inches. “Run!” one of Omar’s teammates yells. Off he goes, in his long red pants with the gray shorts pulled over them. Abbott pounces off the mound. Omar huffs and puffs toward first base with every short stride. Abbott has the ball now. Omar makes a second effort to go faster, then a third effort. Abbott throws the ball slightly wide of the base. Omar takes one long, last step. His foot hits the sack. Safe.

The smile on his face is the size of the base.

“Abbott obviously doesn’t have it out there today,” the announcer says.

Frankly, this is true. Everybody knows that last summer he pitched a no-hitter for the Yankees. But so far today, at least 40 or 50 batters have stepped up against Abbott, and even he would have to admit that every single one of them got a hit.

Abbott has taken a day of his free time to pitch and talk baseball to a whole park of kids much like Omar, who is 12. They are very special kids who spend every day of their young lives dealing with physical or psychological challenges, not unlike Jim himself, who is missing the fingers of his right hand. Dozens of these children have come to Stevens Field on a sunny afternoon in Diamond Bar to play a little ball with a real big leaguer.

“There are a couple of things I know,” Abbott tells the boys, gathering them together before the game. “One is baseball and being outdoors on a great day like today. And the other thing is that everyone should have a chance.

“No doors were ever closed to me when I was your age. Don’t let anyone close any doors to you.”

Since becoming a professional, Abbott has become part of an international help movement called the Challenger program that gives children like these a chance--if not a chance to play baseball, then at least a chance to be children like any other children. They do this with the generous assistance of corporate sponsors, such as Bubblicious gum, and through volunteer nonprofit organizations such as Amigos de los Ninos (Friends of the Children), representatives of whom have helped arrange today’s game.

Many adult men and women donate their time and money to make days like this possible. Tim Brundige, for example. He is president of a glass company in La Habra that bears his name and is a busy man, particularly in a region that has earthquakes. But he is not too busy to serve on the board of Amigos de los Ninos, or to be here today, introducing every batter on the P.A.

And then there is Rick Burleson, for another example. He, too, is here today. Long before ending his illustrious career as an infielder with the Angels and Boston Red Sox, he began giving his support to projects like these.

“It means a lot to me,” says Burleson, who also lives in La Habra. “And I know how much it means to these kids when someone like Jim Abbott offers his time and encouragement to them.”

Hundreds of kids from Harlem knew this same feeling after Abbott interrupted his playing schedule last season in New York to come spend a day playing ball with them. Their parents and coaches were surprised and the children were thrilled. Not many celebrities had ever come around and spent any time with them.

Abbott enjoyed that experience immensely. It reminded him of his first effort for this program, while he was still with the Angels, when he volunteered for a day at a Mesa, Ariz., playground to play ball with some kids. That day took pieces of Jim’s heart. Kids with very severe physical challenges got out there and did the best they could. He can still picture that boy who pushed himself all the way to first base with both arms, using a walker.

Here in Diamond Bar, every player is every bit as determined. There’s Daniel, who says he ate his Wheaties this morning. There’s Steve, no taller than Abbott’s knee. There’s Scott, who wants to shake Jim’s bad hand. There’s Sam, who remembers first seeing Abbott pitch on TV in the 1988 Olympics.

And there’s Gregory Maris, 9, whose mom looks on from the bleachers as he goes up to home plate to face Jim Abbott of the New York Yankees--in his wheelchair.

Gregory hits the ball. A friend helps push his wheelchair to first base. He makes it there safely. That Abbott sure is getting rocked for hits today.

He hands out free souvenirs afterward and signs everyone’s ball. He says, “I hope it means something to them, because I know what it means to me. It’s probably a selfish thing, because I’m the one who gets the most out of it.”

One thing troubles Abbott, that being any credit he might get. Better nobody knew about these days at all, except for one detail.

“I was sorry about the publicity we got in Harlem, until the response we got,” Abbott says.

See, sometimes others pitch in, any way they can. Amigos de los Ninos donations can be sent to P.O. Box 2602, La Habra, Calif., 90632-2602, or inquiries faxed to (310) 694-0224. Some kids can get to first base by themselves. Some could use a push.