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Swinging home: Alexandria community rallies around child with Down syndrome
Brett Buckner, Staff Writer
Published: May 24, 2008
ALEXANDRIA - In a batter's helmet that keeps sliding down over his eyes, Devon Peoples digs his cleats deep in the grass, chokes up nice and tight on the bat and swings for the fences. W-H-I-F-F … Strike one.
--
The coach steps a little bit closer.
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W-H-I-F-F … Strike two.
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In front of him, just over the coach's shoulder, stands the rest of the team, each waiting for their turn. Rather than taunting and mocking Devon's wild swings, they chant his name and clap - tiny hands against leather gloves.
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The coach tosses the ball in underhanded. With a mighty swing, Devon knocks the ball hard to the ground. Though only a quiet dribbler that dies in the grass, Devon stares at it and smiles, not confused, proud.
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Devon Peoples is 9 years old and has Down syndrome, but no one here really cares.
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The Alexandria youth baseball fields are a place where moms walk around in baby blue, orange and gray jerseys with their kids' names on the back. It's where coaches lean over chain link fences to give the play-by-play to parents arriving late from work. It's where kids too young to be on a team play on gravel fields with sticks and wadded up Coke cups.
The Alexandria youth baseball fields are a place where moms walk around in baby blue, orange and gray jerseys with their kids' names on the back. It's where coaches lean over chain link fences to give the play-by-play to parents arriving late from work. It's where kids too young to be on a team play on gravel fields with sticks and wadded up Coke cups.
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They are a community under lights, unified by an outfield scoreboard and the applause that's given for both teams.
They are a community under lights, unified by an outfield scoreboard and the applause that's given for both teams.
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Around here, Devon Peoples is just another little boy who loves to play baseball.
Around here, Devon Peoples is just another little boy who loves to play baseball.
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"He really feels like he's a part of something special, and it's the community that's done that," says Devon's mother, Terri Peoples, leaning against the splintered orange bleachers before the game. "Most people are afraid of what they don't understand. But people here have been nothing but accepting."
"He really feels like he's a part of something special, and it's the community that's done that," says Devon's mother, Terri Peoples, leaning against the splintered orange bleachers before the game. "Most people are afraid of what they don't understand. But people here have been nothing but accepting."
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While Terri's talking, Devon fields grounders. After a couple scoot past his outstretched glove, teammate Tanner Mize, better known as "Bucket," offers a few pointers.
While Terri's talking, Devon fields grounders. After a couple scoot past his outstretched glove, teammate Tanner Mize, better known as "Bucket," offers a few pointers.
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"Keep your glove down, Dev," Bucket says, kneeling down. "Follow it into your glove."
"Keep your glove down, Dev," Bucket says, kneeling down. "Follow it into your glove."
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Devon loses interest when he sees Mike Mize, better known as Coach Mike, coach of the AA Valley Boys, Devon's team.
Devon loses interest when he sees Mike Mize, better known as Coach Mike, coach of the AA Valley Boys, Devon's team.
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Coach Mike met Devon some four years ago in T-ball. He's the one who calls Terri every spring with the same question, "You gonna let Dev come out for baseball this year?"
Coach Mike met Devon some four years ago in T-ball. He's the one who calls Terri every spring with the same question, "You gonna let Dev come out for baseball this year?"
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Now, Devon gets up at 5 a.m., shakes his momma awake and leans in real close. "Ball game … Coach Mike," he'll say, grinning. It takes a lot of convincing before Terri talks Devon back into bed, usually wearing his uniform.
Now, Devon gets up at 5 a.m., shakes his momma awake and leans in real close. "Ball game … Coach Mike," he'll say, grinning. It takes a lot of convincing before Terri talks Devon back into bed, usually wearing his uniform.
--
"It's all Coach Mike's fault," Terri says, loud enough for Mize to hear. "He's created a monster."
Coming up to just above his belt loop, Devon hugs Coach Mike so tight that for a second he looks like a third leg. He pulls away only after stealing the man's cell phone and dancing a jig to its computerized ring tone. The only thing that pulls Devon back is Coach Mike's voice.
"It's all Coach Mike's fault," Terri says, loud enough for Mize to hear. "He's created a monster."
Coming up to just above his belt loop, Devon hugs Coach Mike so tight that for a second he looks like a third leg. He pulls away only after stealing the man's cell phone and dancing a jig to its computerized ring tone. The only thing that pulls Devon back is Coach Mike's voice.
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"What time is it?" Mize shouts.
"What time is it?" Mize shouts.
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"Ball game!" Devon answers. Swinging for the fences
"Ball game!" Devon answers. Swinging for the fences
--
As darkness descends, the field lights start to glow. Clouds of gray dust drift against the dying sunshine as The Valley Boys take the field. It's the last game of the night and the final game of the season.
As darkness descends, the field lights start to glow. Clouds of gray dust drift against the dying sunshine as The Valley Boys take the field. It's the last game of the night and the final game of the season.
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With the rest of the team in the field, No. 32 sits alone in the dugout, quietly gathering baseballs and rolling them around in the dirt between his knees.
With the rest of the team in the field, No. 32 sits alone in the dugout, quietly gathering baseballs and rolling them around in the dirt between his knees.
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Devon doesn't play in the field. But he always gets to bat.
Devon doesn't play in the field. But he always gets to bat.
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Ever since his days in T-ball, at the end of each inning, Devon's allowed to walk out and take a few swings.
Ever since his days in T-ball, at the end of each inning, Devon's allowed to walk out and take a few swings.
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"It's his moment," Terri says. "And he knows it."
"It's his moment," Terri says. "And he knows it."
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That moment arrives with one out in the bottom of the first. With The Valley Boys up 5-0 over Club Fitness as the mercy rule ended the inning, Devon hears his name shouted from every corner of the field and bleachers. Grabbing the closest bat and helmet, he sprints from the dugout like a boy being chased by bees.
That moment arrives with one out in the bottom of the first. With The Valley Boys up 5-0 over Club Fitness as the mercy rule ended the inning, Devon hears his name shouted from every corner of the field and bleachers. Grabbing the closest bat and helmet, he sprints from the dugout like a boy being chased by bees.
--
Soon as Devon's cleats cross the chalk line, the crowd erupts.
Soon as Devon's cleats cross the chalk line, the crowd erupts.
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"Keep your eye on the ball," shouts a grandfather in a John Deere hat and overalls. "Watch it all the way in, son. Take your time."
"Keep your eye on the ball," shouts a grandfather in a John Deere hat and overalls. "Watch it all the way in, son. Take your time."
--
With Coach Mike running the pitching machine and assistant coach Pat Brown crouching behind him, Devon swings for the fences. And misses … twice.
With Coach Mike running the pitching machine and assistant coach Pat Brown crouching behind him, Devon swings for the fences. And misses … twice.
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The third pitch is the charm. Devon slaps one off the end of the bat, spinning it backward and off the catcher's glove - foul. No matter. Devon pushes the helmet off and races toward first base, pausing only long enough to give the crowd a "Come on! Come on!" gesture with his small arms flapping.
The third pitch is the charm. Devon slaps one off the end of the bat, spinning it backward and off the catcher's glove - foul. No matter. Devon pushes the helmet off and races toward first base, pausing only long enough to give the crowd a "Come on! Come on!" gesture with his small arms flapping.
--
In a happy trot, Devon makes his way around the bases - some he touches, most he misses. By the time he's rounded third a chant is gaining momentum.
In a happy trot, Devon makes his way around the bases - some he touches, most he misses. By the time he's rounded third a chant is gaining momentum.
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"Slide … Slide … Slide … Slide."
"Slide … Slide … Slide … Slide."
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When Devon chooses to stay on his cleats, Coach Mike scoops him up in the air and rubs him across home plate making sure his uniform gets dirty enough to wash one last time. The team pours from the dugout, greeting Devon with a flurry of hugs and high-fives like he'd just won the World Series with a walk-off homer.
When Devon chooses to stay on his cleats, Coach Mike scoops him up in the air and rubs him across home plate making sure his uniform gets dirty enough to wash one last time. The team pours from the dugout, greeting Devon with a flurry of hugs and high-fives like he'd just won the World Series with a walk-off homer.
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Though it's a run that won't flash across a scoreboard or show up in a newspaper box score for his momma to stick to the refrigerator, for one little boy and this tiny community, touching home plate means all the world.
Though it's a run that won't flash across a scoreboard or show up in a newspaper box score for his momma to stick to the refrigerator, for one little boy and this tiny community, touching home plate means all the world.
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"He thinks he's really doing it," Terri says. "This isn't pretend, not for him. It's not the other team letting him get a hit.
"He thinks he's really doing it," Terri says. "This isn't pretend, not for him. It's not the other team letting him get a hit.
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"It's real for Devon."
"It's real for Devon."
--
On the visitors' side near home plate, a young boy sits in the dirt staring through the spaces in the chain link fence, watching as Devon makes a third triumphant lap around the bases.
On the visitors' side near home plate, a young boy sits in the dirt staring through the spaces in the chain link fence, watching as Devon makes a third triumphant lap around the bases.
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"Dad, what's he doing?" the boy asks, looking over his shoulder and flashing a red, candy-stained grin.
"Dad, what's he doing?" the boy asks, looking over his shoulder and flashing a red, candy-stained grin.
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"He's playing baseball," the man answers, meeting his son's eyes. "He's just playing baseball."
After the game, which The Valley Boys won 20-0, Coach Mike talks about the boy he's grown to love.
"He's playing baseball," the man answers, meeting his son's eyes. "He's just playing baseball."
After the game, which The Valley Boys won 20-0, Coach Mike talks about the boy he's grown to love.
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"That's the reason we play youth sports," he says, watching Devon from the shadows of the dugout. "I want him to get out, to show off and have a good time. I love it. Playing with Dev is more fun for me than baseball.
"That's the reason we play youth sports," he says, watching Devon from the shadows of the dugout. "I want him to get out, to show off and have a good time. I love it. Playing with Dev is more fun for me than baseball.
--
"I'll take that any day."
"I'll take that any day."
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