My Hero
After losing her nine-year-old son to leukemia, Lori Williamson founded My Hero, a nonprofit organization that sponsored trips to sporting events, theme parks, concerts and even movie sets so that terminally ill children could meet their idols. By the fifth anniversary of her son's death, Lori had arranged for more than two hundred children to meet with superstars such as Derek Jeter, Tom Brady, Taylor Swift and the Jonas Brothers.
While the heartbroken mother worked tirelessly to help volunteers with scheduling, fundraising and public relations matters, she spent as little time as possible with the children themselves. She simply could not bear seeing their smiling faces and eyes bright with joy and hope, knowing most of them probably would not make it to their next birthday. She had lived through that terrible ordeal with her own child and wanted to distance herself from further emotional pain.
Since Lori primarily worked out of her Plymouth home and only went into the Boston headquarters of the My Hero organization once or twice a month, it was fairly easy to avoid contact with the terminally ill children—that is, until the day she found Sean Fogarty and his mother waiting outside her Boylston Street office.
"Mrs. Williamson," a voice called to her.
Lori turned around and saw a young woman, clearly not yet thirty, with brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair.
"Yes. Can I help you?"
"I came to see you about my son," the redhead said shyly.
Lori and the woman both looked down at the small child holding tightly onto his mother's hand. Large green eyes looked up from a face that was both pale and thin.
He's dying, Lori realized with a stab of anguish.
"I'd like Sean to meet his hero," the mother announced.
Lori sized up the young woman and her son. From the condition of their clothes, they were obviously struggling financially. The mother's dress was several years out of style and when new had probably come off the rack at Kmart or Walmart. Her son wore faded and patched blue jeans with a threadbare Red Sox T-shirt.
"Why don't the two of you come inside where we can talk?"
Sitting in the founder's office, Maggie Fogarty confessed that her son had been diagnosed with bone cancer and given less than a year to live.
"Normally, parents don't contact us directly," Lori explained. "We usually require all applications be submitted by pediatricians and children's hospitals on behalf of their patients. Let me give you a form to forward to your family physician or your son's oncologist. I'm sure he or she will be glad to endorse the recommendation."
"Sean doesn't have his own doctor," the mother said, hanging her head in shame. "We go to a clinic where my son sees whoever is on duty."
A welfare case, Lori thought with compassion.
"We've never accepted a child into the program without a doctor's recommendation," she began but was silenced by Maggie's tears.
"Oh, please," the mother cried. "My son has only one thing in this world to live for. If he can't meet his hero, he'll lose hope for sure."
Lori's eyes were drawn to the boy, and her heart ached. The child had the face of a cherub and reminded her of Dickens's Tiny Tim.
"Who is your hero?" she asked him.
The boy's green eyes glowed when he answered.
"Ken Marino. He's a two-time MVP and a seven-time All Star. He's won three batting championships, and for the past five years, he's led the American League in homeruns."
Lori fought back her tears.
"He was my son's hero, too. I took Billy to see him play at Fenway before ...."
"Sean has never been to a major league baseball game," Maggie informed her. "Even bleacher seats cost too much money for our budget. It's just me and Sean, you see. My husband died the year after my son was born."
Lori, a widow herself, was moved by the woman's predicament, so she put the blank application form back in her drawer. There was no need in this case to follow formalities.
"I'll give my contact with the Red Sox a call and see what I can arrange."
* * *
Lori herself met the taxi carrying Sean and his mother outside the team's souvenir store on Yawkey Way, across the street from Fenway Park. Although the game was not due to start until 4:10, the Fogartys arrived at 11:00, right on schedule.
"First, let's go get you a Red Sox jersey," Lori said, leading the boy into the store.
When they exited the building twenty-five minutes later, little Sean Fogarty was wearing an official Ken Marino jersey and a new Red Sox cap. The three then met with a Fenway guide who gave them a private tour of the ballpark, including the press box, the Red Sox Hall of Fame, the dugout and the famous Green Monster in left field. The tour wound up at the EMC Club where Ken Marino himself was to meet them for lunch.
The guide looked at his watch.
"Mr. Marino must be running late," he apologized. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."
While the two women and the little boy waited for the superstar outfielder to appear, the guide delighted Sean with stories about the legendary Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski and Carlton "Pudge" Fisk. More than half an hour later, Ken Marino finally sauntered up to the group.
"You the sick kid I'm supposed to have lunch with?" he asked.
Lori and Maggie winced at the ballplayer's question, but Sean looked up at the Red Sox slugger with adoration.
"Hi, Mr. Marino, sir. I'm so pleased to meet you. You're my hero."
"Nice, kid. Let's get this show on the road. I ain't got all day."
Lori and the Fogarties followed Ken Marino into the EMC Club where the chef had prepared Sean's favorite food: hamburgers and French fries. The two women were disheartened to learn that the ballplayer's poor social skills were matched only by his deplorable table manners. He ate his ketchup-drenched fries with his fingers, chewed his food with his mouth open, slurped when he drank his soda and loudly belched several times without once excusing himself.
What disturbed Lori most about the athlete's uncouth behavior was his sexist, condescending attitude toward the women in the room. He repeatedly addressed Lori and Maggie as honey, babe, doll and sweetheart. Even worse, he grabbed the young waitress' shapely posterior as she leaned over to serve the food. Meanwhile, throughout the meal, he virtually ignored the little boy who worshipped him. Lori was frankly glad for the brief respite when Ken's cell phone rang during dessert.
"Marino," he answered. "Oh, hello, gorgeous ... Tonight? Sorry, I can't make it. My wife expects me home after the game ... The black lace teddy, huh? Well then, that's a different story. I'll give my wife some bullshit story about a team meeting ... Okay, I'll see you around nine."
Lori exchanged a meaningful look with Maggie Fogarty, and then both of them glanced at Sean who was watching his hero intently. After Ken ended his telephone call, Sean took a baseball card out of his pocket.
"Mr. Marino, would you please sign my card?"
The ballplayer looked down at his Upper Deck rookie card, which the child had kept in pristine condition inside a plastic case.
"I usually get twenty-five bucks and up for an autograph," the outfielder declared, "but I suppose I can make an exception here. Just don't expect me to hit a homerun for you today," he laughed. "I'm not Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig."
"No. They were both Yankees," Sean said innocently.
Apparently he had never watched The Pride of the Yankees, the Gary Cooper film in which both sluggers promised to hit homeruns for a hospitalized fan.
"That's right," Ken laughed. "And in two years, when I become a free agent, I'll probably be donning pinstripes myself. After all, no team pays as well as New York does."
Sean looked as though his pet dog had died.
"You'd really leave the Red Sox and go to the Yankees?"
"Damn right. I go where the money is, kid."
Ken Marino then took a Sharpie out of his pocket and scribbled his name across the baseball card.
"Here you are, son. Don't sell in on eBay."
Sean stared at the baseball card like it was the Holy Grail, his hands remaining firmly clasped in his lap, as though he were afraid to touch it.
Ken glanced at his Rolex.
"Well, I hope you lovely, sexy-looking girls had a good time today—and you too, kid," he added as an afterthought. "But I gotta run and get in some batting practice before the game."
He then left the room without looking back.
* * *
After Lori bought Sean a program, a soda and an ice cream in a plastic Red Sox cap, the two women and the little boy headed toward their seats, just off the first base line.
"You'll have a good view of Kevin Youkilis from here," Lori announced, but Sean seemed not to have heard her. "Isn't Beckett pitching today?"
Again, the boy did not reply, so she decided to let him enjoy the experience of being in a major league ballpark for the first and most likely the only time in his life.
Although Lori and Maggie enjoyed the game and cheered whenever the Sox scored a run or Josh Beckett struck out an opposing player, Sean remained eerily silent.
"Is he feeling okay?" Lori whispered to the child's mother.
"He must be getting tired. He's had an exciting day, after all."
The Sox closer, Jonathan Papelbon, came in at the top of the ninth, and after three quick outs, the game was over.
"So, Sean, how was your visit to Fenway?" Lori asked as they exited the stadium and headed toward a waiting taxi.
"It was wonderful," the boy replied. "I'll never forget it. Thank you."
Although Sean's words sounded sincere, his eyes were filled with sadness.
When the boy and his mother returned to their run-down apartment in South Boston, Maggie Fogarty helped her son out of the taxi.
"Have you got everything you need?" the mother asked anxiously.
Sean nodded his head.
"Do you want my help?"
"No. The wish won't come true unless I do it myself."
The frail little boy, his face marred by his imminent death, headed toward the small yard in back of the apartment house. With his baseball card in one hand, he picked up a gardening trowel in the other. Tears welled in Maggie's eyes as she watched her dying child disappear from her view.
"Good luck, Sean," she whispered long after the boy was out of earshot.
* * *
The following week Lori Williamson was sitting in her breakfast nook drinking coffee and eating a cheese Danish as she thumbed through The Boston Globe. She was not sure what made her turn to the obituaries since she was not in the habit of reading death notices, least of all during breakfast. Maybe it was intuition—who knows? But her attention was immediately drawn to a small death announcement in the second column. Sean Fogarty had passed away at his home, dying latter that same day he went to Fenway Park and met his hero.
Although the pain was not as great as what she had experienced when she lost her own child, the boy's death was nevertheless devastating. Lori remembered the innocent green eyes and the trusting face, and she put her head down and cried.
It just isn't fair! she thought. He was so young, so sweet, so much like my poor Billy.
The next day she took the train to Boston, but the small apartment in which Sean and Maggie Fogarty had lived was empty.
In the months following Sean's death, Lori sunk into a deep depression. She rarely left her house and lost interest in the world around her. Why should she bother going on? Where was the joy in a world where little boys and loving husbands died and egotistical, sexist, greedy morons like Ken Marino not only lived but thrived and prospered?
Despite her low spirits, Lori eventually began to bounce back. She even decided to attend My Hero's annual Christmas fundraiser at the Fairmont Copley Plaza. Many of Boston's wealthiest citizens were there as well as a few celebrities. Mingling with Beacon Hill socialites were a few Kennedys, the Kerrys, one of the Wahlbergs and a sprinkling of athletes including, to Lori's surprise, Ken Marino.
I wonder if he's getting paid to be here, Lori thought cynically.
However, it was the woman with him that caught her attention. Although the evening gown was by Versace rather than Kmart, the red hair and beautiful face were those of Maggie Fogarty.
"Who's that woman with Ken Marino?" Lori asked a society columnist who knew everyone and everything that went on in Boston.
"Oh, she's a relative of his—a cousin or something. For the past year or so, they've been quite close. I understand he bought her a new house and gives her a very generous allowance."
"That's odd. He doesn't strike me as the generous type."
"He probably feels sorry for her. She's a widow, and she lost her son to cancer—poor thing."
Lori excused herself and made her way across the crowded room, her eyes set on the Boston Red Sox outfielder and his guest. Maggie saw her coming before Marino did. The young mother's face reddened, and she grabbed on to her escort's arm for support.
"I read about Sean in the newspaper," Lori began. "I'm so sorry for your loss. I went to your apartment when I learned of his passing, but you had already moved out."
"Th-thank you," Maggie stammered, looking to Ken for help.
"Hello, Mrs. Williamson," the future Hall of Famer said politely. "It's so nice to see you again."
He held out his hand to shake hers, but Lori was so astonished by the change in his deportment that she failed to notice it.
"It's nice to see you again, too. Frankly, I'm surprised to see you here with Mrs. Fogarty."
"We've become very good friends."
The look he bestowed on the woman beside him was filled with love as was the look he received in return.
"I'm sure Sean would have been happy that his mother and his hero have become so close. If I remember correctly, though, you'll be a free agent at the end of next season. Do you still hope to sign with the Yankees?"
"Oh, no. I plan on staying right here in Boston regardless of what other offers I might get."
"You certainly seem ...."
Lori's sentence was cut off when the master of ceremonies called for everyone's attention. During his speech and the presentations that followed it, Lori closely observed the baseball player. It wasn't just his manners and demeanor that had changed. The look on his face was gentler, more compassionate, more childlike. It was a face that eerily resembled Sean Fogarty's.
No! Lori Williamson thought. It can't be!
She turned her attention to Maggie. The expression on her face when she spoke to Ken Marino was the same as the one she had worn when she spoke to her dying child.
It IS him! Lori realized with sudden certainty.
She could not explain or begin to understand the miracle that had brought about the transformation, but she accepted it nevertheless. Sean Fogarty had become his hero.
And what about Ken Marino? What's become of him? Not that it really matters much, she wondered uncharitably.
Maybe life wasn't so unfair after all. Maybe on rare occasions God, fate or karma corrected an error, or maybe there were powers at work here that had nothing to do with the natural course of things.
Lori smiled. She was not a religious person, but for the first time in her life, she thought the meek might eventually inherit the earth. But for now she was happy to see Sean Fogarty inherit the life and good fortune his hero hadn't deserved.
Whatever his faults (and he has quite a few!) Salem is and always will be my hero.
