“Oh my, I’m dead, right?”.

Standing in front of me is a solidly built guy wearing catcher's gear under his hospital jacket.  He’s toting a patient's clipboard with a baseball scorecard attached. I’m standing in front of Commissioner Pete, feeling oddly comfortable, as though this is something akin to a normal, every day occurrance. What I assumed would be an easy process became a bit more interesting when I spotted the group of people sitting directly behind him.

“Oh man, this can’t be good,” was all I could manage to think. Behind the commish, and seated at two tables, with a seven-foot gap between those tables, were six people:

The first three were all smiles and ready for a celebration, as though they couldn't wait to approve me getting the starting lineup in the afternoon game at Holy Ghost Memorial Stadium, in Heaven. The other three were dressed in Front Office Human Resource-type suits. Those guys definitely do not want me allowed anywhere near the field. Like every bean-counter known to man, these agents from hell have always had only one thing in mind: to keep talented players in the minors and, above all, they're committed to avoiding paying a call-up bonus.

Pete says, "Lookie here, kid, there's always a tie in the selection committee group when someone gets considered for the call-up. You are limited to a single option. You need to tell a truthful baseball story. This will complete your Exit Interview, in our baseball classification.”  Pete allowed a slight smirk to form on his face. Then he went on, ”You tell a sports story, but it's got to have a baseball theme. You have half an hour to come up with your material. Then you have 10 minutes to impress the guys with your favorite story, remembering that it has to change the mind of at least one of the bean-counters, and at least four of the six decision makers in front of you."

"That's easy. I have the perfect story." However, I paused a bit before answering, "I'd better think about the presentation. Since this is my only way in, I dare not be overconfident. They give me a few minutes to make my decision. Frankly, there's only one story I want to tell....It’s the Eli Prieto story. It is hard to imagine anyone not loving this kid, but those suits looked pretty determined to be nasty.

This is about the most relentless kid ever to live. He's 13 years old, a little on the smaller side, but he's tough
as nails; in fact, that would be the nickname I would have given him at the beginning of his life. He was born
with a cigar in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. This kid was made for baseball.

​​

However, Eli was born with two club feet and a very serious, distressed esophagus, along with several other
physical challenges, and other issues in his chest and throat. However, the biggest, most noticeable issue was his feet—they were completely turned in, both feet. Eli started out having numerous surgical procedures on his feet as an infant and a toddler. Really, he never got to toddle. For a couple of years, he struggled with having to battle casts and bars between his ankles. Given his limited mobility, Eli was forced to do the bumslide when trying to get around. Nothing that resembled a regular life kid-experience seemed to be in the cards for him during those very early years. Everything was overwhelmingly tough. That said, given his challenges, and through all of those incredibly difficult obstacles, he never lost his “happy”.

The other part of the challenge equation is the internal esophagus connection in his throat and stomach, which kept requiring surgery after surgery to stretch and reattach. Stretching and restretching for years just so he could swallow. Hospital surgery trips were routine, like having an every-six-month oil change kind of thing. Overall, he’s had 30-some-odd surgeries. Did I tell you he's only 13? I know I did.

For countless others, that could just be a tale of woe. It's hardly a great story that's going to get me on the right side of where I want to end up, but you need to look at the hardships to appreciate the beauty of victories. Early on, his brothers—he has two brothers, both older, he's the baby—were physically superior athletes.

They love baseball. Ultimately, Jake didn't pursue it, but he excels in other areas. Eli would come to the
games and just sit at the screen, aching to be like them. You could see it. He was constantly evaluating
everything about baseball, evaluating his brothers' play. Eli "Nails” is just one of those kids who couldn't get enough of the game, but so far, it's all just watching.

After his feet straightened out, the surgeries were successful, and there was no stopping this kid. He would run and run and run. He was picking up bats before he was picking up a spoon to eat with. This kid was constantly trying to eat a life of baseball.

It was hard not to see him as feeble in the very beginning, because it took him three years to catch up with the kids who were three years older. When he was eight, he would want to play against ten-year-olds. He needed the challenge, because he had to catch up with them. At eight, he played like a six-year-old, but by the time he was ten, he was playing like a twelve-year-old. He worked hard and never gave up.

His mom and dad were constantly posting videos to encourage him because he was also the runt of the litter. He was small, and when he finally started to catch up, there was no stopping him. He was spitting seeds, chugging Gatorade, and chomping on Big League Chew bubble gum like it was going out of style. His favorite thing? Spitting! He was spitting everywhere—in the living room, out on the porch, on the driveway. Everything was about him spitting. He was tough, but he wanted to be a star, and everybody was cheering for him. He was the best teammate ever. He always encouraged others and did everything he could to get into a game, and he absolutely loved the Dodgers. It was ingrained in this guy. He's a fourth-generation Dodger fan.

It didn't take him long to realize that if he was gonna get more playing time, he needed an edge. Nobody wanted to be a catcher as a kid. So he picked up the tools-of-ignorance, had Dad buy him a catcher's mitt, and went for it, ultimately loved the position. Eli wanted to be like Will Smith, and as he became more experienced catching, he realized he had found a way to a better experience. This is a kid who had two club feet when he was born, and after all those surgeries, wouldn't be denied. Even in the middle of the season, they would have to take a week off to do that surgery to stretch his esophagus again.

 

What was once considered pitiful became beautiful.

His 12-year-old season in Little League, Nails makes the All-Star team.... A freaking All-Star. It was amazing to see the satisfaction in every move that he makes on a baseball field. In my lifetime, I have seen great players, talented players, powerful players, Roy Hobbs talent guys. I have had the pleasure of being present in many living rooms as some of those players signed professional contracts. But I will speak prophetically here about this kid; this is a sign of things to come for Eli. He might never see the inside of a major league uniform, but wherever he lands, he will always be "Nails".

So Pete, while I really would like to think that one of those Human Resource guys has the ability to be moved into a positive decision on my gametime status, do you mind if I ask to go back to a living status for a few more years? I have some more games I’d like to watch before I make my Holy Ghost Stadium rookie debut.