Kvelve's Comments: Special moments

It’s not, fortunately, a rare occurrence, especially in the world of sports.

Sportsmanship, after all, is a word with sports batting leadoff. 

Sportsmanship is what makes sports special, and it comes in many forms. 

You’ve probably seen the videos of track runners stopping their race to help a fellow competitor who has stumbled along the way get back in the race. 

And, as was witnessed this past week during the Thompson Falls-Noxon versus Plains-Hot Springs fastpitch softball game, was on display in one of its many forms. 

In the top of the first inning, Plains senior Trysten Larsen, the only senior on the team and who was about to play in her final home game, took to the pitching mound. 

What is so special about that, you may ask?  Larsen is not a pitcher. 

But it was apparently something she always wanted to try, at least once. 

So, with fans no doubt scratching their sunbaked heads, Larsen wound up and “fired” a pitch across the plate for a strike.  Then, she was moved back to the field where she normally excels. 

I remember, as a member of the sunbaked noggin crowd, wondering what was up. 

This moment was concocted by the Trotters, including head coach Jon Zigler, as a way of sending a soon to graduate senior on her way with a cool memory. 

More importantly, it was one of those special moments that make sports more than just something to do. 

If that doesn’t make you feel good, maybe nothing will. Coach Zigler and crew are to be commended for this act of kindness and caring that gave Larsen a lifelong memory. 

I remember years ago I saw just such an incident that I think about all the time all these years later. 

I was coaching Kirkland (WA) park and rec basketball and was in charge of a team of fifth graders from Robert Frost Elementary in a tussle with “rival” Finn Hill Elementary. 

On our team was a young man with Down’s Syndrome who, according to his parents was never really allowed to play the required one full quarter of each game. In fact, this young guy often did not even get into the game. 

That would not fly on my team. 

I made sure he played one full quarter and more each game. And maybe not surprisingly, none of the parents of players on the team argued about that. We won all but two games that season with Matt on the court giving it his all. 

But, by the season’s last game, he had not experienced the joy of making a basket.  I did not organize a “let Matt shoot” scheme where the opposing players are in on the plan and step aside so Matt could get a clear shot. 

Nope. My team, which I’m proud to say included my son Tim, cleared the way for Matt on a trip down the court. The other team was not in on it, and I did not know about it until I saw it happen. 

The Robert Frost boys formed a defensive arc for Matt while the other team scrambled to get at the ball.  When the ball reached his hands, Matt turned and put up a shot that was just like a Hollywood script, circled the rim several times. 

It fell off on the last orbit around the rim, but Matt was already in full celebration mode, high fiving his teammates who swarmed around him. Out of the corner of my misty eyes, I saw his parents hug each other on the sidelines. 

The ball didn’t go in. It didn’t have to, in Matt’s mind it did, especially when the gym erupted in applause. 

I was proud of Matt. But I was just as proud of his teammates who created this lifelong memory for Matt...and me. 

We lost that game on the scoreboard but won it anyway if you know what I mean. 

That, and the Trysten Larsen moment, are big reasons why I’ve had a solid connection with sports my whole life. 

Rock on sportsmanship.