It is not so surprising, then, that after Arledge’s whiff in practice, the sting of the punchout doesn’t last long. Watching Alex take wayward swings with unquenchable enthusiasm and a carefree smile, Arledge knows he is witnessing true perseverance and courage—even if Alex can’t pronounce those words.
“He battles with things every day, but he still has the outlook you would expect a three-year-old to have,” the junior marvels. “I gave so much credit to the [Northwestern] team for being great to the little girl, but what I realized is that the team that gets to help the kid out is the lucky one.”
Certainly the Crimson players know that they have the good end of the deal. When practice ends, the ballplayers return to a world of papers and exams, but so too does Alex return to a harsh reality filled with medical tests and debilitating chemotherapy. Life outside the stadium bubble is not always so carefree.
“It’s been a long [journey],” Lopez admits. “It’s very draining, mentally draining. It just takes a big toll out on you, but it’s brought us closer together.”
The Harvard team recognizes this burden and has wholeheartedly embraced the FOJ mission of providing comfort and showing love. In addition to sending messages to Alex’s CareBridge page—a portal for friends to leave words of support—a number of players have taken to calling their young teammate at home, making him feel like a true member of the Crimson family.
“He likes them all,” Lopez says of the baseball team. “But certain names stick out. He likes [junior pitcher] Zach [Hofeld]. And Cole calls almost every night to say goodnight.”
“I want to be able to brighten up his day, but I also want to talk to him on good days,” Arledge explains.
The junior, it seems, has responded most strongly to Alex’s experience. But Arledge takes no credit for going above and beyond to embrace his newest teammate.
“I think that anybody on the team would do it,” he says. “I don’t think it’s something unique that I’ve done. His mom says [calling] makes him happy, and what do I have to do? The walk from the yard to the quad, that’s 15 minutes right there.”
And in these little ways, the Crimson as a whole has rallied around Alex. Above all, Arledge stresses that the team sees its young friend as a full member of Harvard baseball.
“I’ve heard the word ‘honorary teammate’ thrown around,” Arledge says. “When I think ‘honorary teammate,’ I think Whoopi Goldberg and the Globetrotters—like honoring somebody. People really want to bring him in.”
“He has a locker in the locker room,” Arledge continues. “We taped over a name plate and wrote Alex on it. It’s right in the middle of everything.”
What Arledge doesn’t mention is that the locker is his, gladly sacrificed to give Alex a place among his heroes.
This locker symbolizes much of what Alex has come to mean to the Crimson. Right in the center of the Harvard family, the youngster provides a reminder of the world outside.
“I hope the [team] will get out of it as much as Alex gets out of it,” Lopez says. “[I hope it teaches them] to not sweat the small stuff.”
As the Crimson gains perspective from its new pairing, Alex also grows stronger with the team’s constant support. The chemotherapy will never return his sight, but it will give him a chance at a normal life—Lopez plans to enroll her son in preschool this year, where he will prepare for a full education in Braille.
But first, Alex has his work cut out for him. It’s baseball season, and Harvard needs each athlete to be at his best.
“[He’s] our secret weapon this year,” says Crimson coach Joe Walsh with a smile. “If you see someone walking up there to the plate looking for a walk, it could be Alex.”
Even if he takes three swings and strikes out, he’ll walk back to the dugout with his signature grin. After all, it’s only baseball.
—Staff writer Max N. Brondfield can be reached at mbrondf@fas.harvard.edu.