[mashshare]

My 7-year-old, Kason, just finished his first season of baseball. He began as a player who picked dandelions in the outfield, tried to catch bugs in his mitt, and rarely made contact at the plate. He finished as a slugger who occasionally hit his way to first base and developed such a sharp eye for bugs he could be an exterminator.

Most importantly, he had fun, the ultimate prerequisite for success. He’s on the roster for “fall ball” and is already looking forward to more evenings at the ballpark.

In the meantime, we’ll enjoy watching as many games as we can of the local Woodstock River Bandits. The team plays at our nearby high school and is part of the Valley Baseball League. The VBL, dubbed “The Gateway to the Majors,” has a rich tradition dating to 1923 and has produced more than 1,000 professionals.

For Kason and the rest of the Wright family, this summer’s team is extra special because it features a few coaches and players with LDS or Brigham Young University connections. The kids have enjoyed pointing them out at church on Sunday and cheering them on during games.

Last Friday, Kason and I stayed until the wee hours for a thrilling comeback win by the River Bandits in extra innings. As the winning run crossed the plate, a catcher working in the bullpen with relief pitchers turned and tossed us a ball. Kason’s eyes lit up brighter than the scoreboard.

We walked toward the dugout where manager Brent Haring had promised Kason could meet the players and get a few autographs. Imagine my youngster’s delight when Brent took him into the dugout and onto the field — the actual field! There he met each and every player and got his ball signed.

All of the players were incredibly gracious and treated him like a teammate, not a second-grade nuisance. It was obvious watching them that the team is loaded with plenty of strong, Christian young men, no matter what specific church they call home.

One player stood out. As infielder Bret Lopez of BYU signed his autograph, I mentioned to Kason that like his old man, I’d heard Bret had chosen to serve a mission for the church. Now it was Bret’s turn to light up.

“That’s right!” he beamed among his teammates as he tousled Kason’s hair. “I served in Puerto Rico. Best two years of my life.”

On the short ride home, Kason quizzed me about Bret. Where was he from? Would he be at church on Sunday? Could he give me a hitting lesson? Where’s Puerto Rico? Could he come over for dinner?

I found Bret online before I went to sleep that night and sent an email thanking him for talking to my son. He had no idea what an impact he’d made in such a short period of time.

Two days later, Bret joined us for Sunday dinner. We talked baseball and missions, and my three other children were equally enthralled by his stories and engaging personality. He shared how the Philadelphia Phillies had called before his mission and were disappointed when he said he’d be serving first before pursuing his baseball career. They asked, “Are you sure about that?”

He was. They’ve not called since.

Bret acknowledged that he continues to dream of a professional career, but he’s put baseball in its proper place, behind family and the Lord. He didn’t say this, but it was easy to imagine that if heaven asked him to give up baseball forever, he’d have his jersey and cap off before the conversation ended.

After dinner, dessert and a few pictures in the front yard, Kason and I drove his new hero back to the home of his host family. Bret climbed out of the truck and reached back in to give Kason a high-five. “You’re going on a mission, right?”

“Yep.”

I’ve wondered since that experience how proud Bret’s parents must be of their mission hero and baseball all-star. I wonder if they know the good he’s doing this summer in a small town in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

I hope one day Kason grows up to be a man like Bret Lopez, a man who puts God first.

I hope, if he chooses, he becomes a baseball star who can catch bugs, fly balls and hit home runs from one county to the next.

More than that, I hope one day he looks into the eyes of a 7-year-old and says, “Best two years of my life.”