Scott recalled, “We saw mountain sheep, a wolf, antelope, deer . . . you name it, we saw it! We met a Sioux Indian who wanted us to get off in Montana to see their medicine man; he said that he could cure him of cancer. I had trouble convincing John that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Two and a half days later, they were in Chicago with a three-hour layover. John and Scott went to the top of the Sears Tower. As Scott recalled, “[John] thought [it] was awesome.” A few hours later they were back on the train; they arrived in Pittsburgh at six-thirty on Saturday. Scott recalled, “He hugged me and said thank you for being with him. It was a time I will never forget. What John said to me was worth the fight I knew was coming between Gina and myself.”
Archery season started in November, and John and Scott had a hunting ritual where Scott would get up early and load the car, start it up, and turn the heater up high. All John had to do was get dressed, put his boots on, and jump in the car. But on the second Saturday in November, when Scott woke John up, John said that he hadn’t slept well and couldn’t go that day. Scott decided to go, and at their hunting spot a ten-point buck came out of the woods and ended up walking right in front of John’s tree stand. When Scott told John what had happened, John became very agitated and upset he had not gone. So upset, in fact, that he put a plan into action.
The next Wednesday, Scott was at work when he got a phone call from John late in the afternoon. “In a whisper I hear John say, ‘Dad, I got one down.’ I said, ‘What?’ and John said, ‘I got one down,’ and then I said, ‘What down?’ He said, ‘A deer.’ I said, ‘What deer? Where are you?’ ” Scott remembered.
John was out at his friend TJ Heltch’s farm, where they often hunted. Scott asked him whom he was with, and John said, “No one.”
Laughing, Scott recalled, “Number one, John is in a tree stand seventeen feet above the ground. He is on some heavy medication for pain. He is by himself and it is getting dark now, and I’m an hour away.”
Luckily Scott had TJ’s number, and TJ promised to check it out with his brother, Tyler. Scott left work racing, but when he got to the Heltches’ farm, John, TJ, and Tyler were nowhere to be found. Finally Scott got through to John, who said they were way back in the woods, tracking a deer in the dark. “John didn’t seem winded,” said Scott. “He actually sounded great. I think I was more out of it than he was.”
About a quarter to seven, John called Scott. “Dad,” he said. “We got it. A big ten-point buck.” TJ and Tyler were field dressing it, and John, wanting to help, put on long-sleeved gloves and got his hands dirty before dragging the buck out of the woods.
When Scott finally reached them, he remembered, “John was just glowing. He was so proud. He told me that this deer meant more to him than the 700-pound Rocky Mountain elk he had shot three weeks before. He said, ‘I shot it. I tracked it. I did it on my own.’ When John shot his elk, he had three guides and a cameraman. John just had to pull the trigger. That meant a lot to him, doing things for himself. And the ten-point deer John shot was the same deer that had walked up to his tree stand five days earlier.”
PART 9
THE MEDIA: JOHN’S MESSAGE GOES WORLDWIDE
John’s story would indeed go worldwide, but the first story to appear about him was the previously mentioned August 20, 2006 Bill Allmann article from the Beaver County Times. The one quote from John that stood out to me was this: “Now I’m amazed when I hear guys complain about how hot it is. I even heard one guy complain he got a fingernail ripped. Guys don’t know how I wish I could be out there.”
The article also explained John’s diagnosis of hepatocellular carcinoma, an adult primary liver cancer that mostly occurs in people fifty to sixty years old. According to the National Library of Medicine, in the United States only one in every two million children get the disease.
Also included in the article were quotes from Scott and Gina as well as Jim Wilson, the Freedom Bulldogs’ head football coach. Jim had a lot to say about John: “I told people John Challis was the toughest son of a gun I knew even before he ran into this difficulty. He’s 110 pounds but he has never backed down from any challenge. There’s no doubt he’s the toughest kid in the school district. He can’t play this year, but he’s still part of our team. Actually, he’s the heart and soul of our team.”
On Sunday, April 13, 2007, the Beaver County Times published a wonderful article written by Bill Utterback. Bill wrote about John playing for the first time on the Freedom baseball team; in it John said, “I used to get beaned all the time. But after everything I’ve been through, getting hit by a baseball’s nothing. It’s not going to hurt me.” The article also discussed John’s garden, his anticipation of trout season, and his recent induction into the National Honor Society at Freedom. John also spoke about his goal of attending the Community College of Beaver County and then transferring to La Roche College, where he wanted to pursue a career in radiology.
In the article, John said the following:
I want to help people and [radiology] is something I know a little bit about now. I know what people will be feeling when they go for a CT scan.
I need to have a plan in case what the doctors tell me doesn’t come true.
I want people to know that my parents raised me right.
My dad is my best friend, and I haven’t always treated him that way. I haven’t always been good to him. I didn’t mean to do it.
I lay awake at night thinking, probably too much. I’m not afraid. I know God has a plan for me. The only thing I’m afraid of is that I don’t know the plan and I won’t get it right.
I know people wonder how God could let this happen to a kid like me. But I know he did it because I’m strong enough to handle it.
Following the incredible hit John had on April 11, 2008 (see more about the hit in Part 10) were two amazing stories. The first was on the front page of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. This article, written by Mike White, introduced John’s story to not only the Pittsburgh area, but the rest of the country as well.
For Scott, the media frenzy was a complete change of pace: “Gina had to leave work because now we weren’t parents, we felt like John’s managers. We really didn’t know how John was going to handle the attention.”
There were three Pittsburgh TV stations at the house. Both The Ellen DeGeneres Show and ABC’s Good Morning America called for John, but it was ESPN and Tom Rinaldi’s Outside the Lines that John eventually chose to share his story with.
Mike White’s May 4, 2008 story had a huge impact on me, and it was great to speak with Mike about it. As Mike recalled, “I received an email talking about John and how his story might be a good one to tell. I then did a little research and saw that the Beaver County Times had done a few stories about him. So I looked up Steve Wetzel, who I had known previously. We talked for a bit . . . I didn’t really know how sick [John] was. I then said to Steve that maybe I’d like to [do] a story on John, and Steve said, ‘You’re going to love this kid.’ ”
Mike then contacted Scott and made plans to drive out to Freedom with sports photographer Matt Freed. They had no idea what they were going to get. “Even though other articles had been done about John, I don’t think anybody ever pulled everything together. So I went in thinking that depending on this kid . . . this could be a pretty good story,” Mike remembered.
Still, nothing could have prepared him for what would happen when he and Matt met with John. They rode in his golf cart outside the baseball field where Freedom was scheduled to play Beaver later that day. Mike and John sat together in the cart while the photographer filmed. “Had to be, I don’t know, a good hour, and he was—he just blew me away,” Mike recalled. “I will never forget; in that interview, he cried, I cried. I think our photographer cried. The things he was saying and the things he was, his outlook. . . . And it was like I had known him for twenty years. He was so profound with the things he said.”
When Mike went home, he pulled into the driveway, and his wife happened
to be outside. “How’d it go?” she asked.
“Incredible,” Mike said. “If I can write this the right way, it could be one gigantic story because of him and the things he said and the things he does.”
After the story was printed, Mike recalled, the calls and emails immediately started coming—from people he knew and others he had never met. “It just kept on mushrooming and snowballing. . . . I can think of some of the people, one umpire I know who says he’s carrying this story in his ball bag from now on. . . . Many were really incredibly touching. I printed them out and took them to Scott and Gina.”
At night, Gina read the responses to John as she rubbed his back.
The floodgates had opened. The day after the story came out, Mike received a call from Mark Hendrickson, the pitcher for the then Florida Marlins. Mark asked if Mike could get him in touch with John; he wanted to bring him to a game.
The next night, Mike received an email from Scott Van Pelt, insisting he put him on his show. Mike remembered the email. “He said, ‘You son of a bitch,’ or something, ‘you put me in tears here.’ ” Mike went on the show, and as soon as it wrapped, he sat in front of his computer screen. Forty seconds later—boom. The emails started to pour in from people all over the country.
Mike remembered, “I was like, look at this. I remember him. I remember one of [the] questions he asked me was ‘How will you deal with things when he dies?’ It kind of choked me up a little. Here’s a kid . . . that I didn’t know a week and a half ago, and [he] had such a profound way of dealing with his illness . . . the things he said. And then it started with that, his famous quote. ‘I used to be afraid, but I’m not afraid of dying now, if that’s what you want to know,’ he said. ‘Because life ain’t about how many breaths you take. It’s what you do with those breaths.’ ”
Looking back, Mike told me that he was thankful to be the messenger for John and the message that John wanted to get out. “I was just lucky enough to be able to tell the story, and he used to say that all the time.” A week after the story came out, Mike went to lunch with Steve and John. After they ate, John turned to Mike and said, “Mr. White, I don’t know how I can thank you enough for getting my story out, my message.”
He always thanked Mike, but Mike could not take the credit: “John, you did it. I didn’t do it. I just presented your message.” Mike never expected it to become a national story, but he knew John was special, a one-of-a-kind kid.
The next week, Mike wrote another Post-Gazette front-page article, where John said, “I felt like one of the kings of the city.” John was a guest of the Pittsburgh Penguins for the National Hockey League’s playoff game against the Philadelphia Flyers. The Penguins brought John, Scott, Gina, and Lexie to the arena in a limousine. After the first period, John and the rest of the family were invited to Mario Lemieux’s box. Mario greeted them at the door and took them to where Ben Roethlisberger, John Smoltz, and Pierre Larouche were sitting. They all got up to talk to John and take pictures. “They did everything they could to make us feel welcome,” Scott recalled.
Sidney Crosby had gotten into a fight in the first period, so up in the box, Mario asked John what he thought about it. John remarked how awesome it was, and then turned to see Sidney Crosby’s dad. Mario then introduced Mr. Crosby to John, and John said to him, “Nice to meet you, sir, but you really got to teach that kid of yours how to fight better.” Scott couldn’t believe he said that—and neither could Mr. Crosby, who quickly walked away. Mario told John with a chuckle that he didn’t want Sidney to fight. John Smoltz and Ben were laughing on the side.
“I think something might have been said before we got up there, just on how they all reacted,” Scott said, looking back.
Afterward Dan Rooney, the owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers, entered the box. Mario introduced John and the family to him. John said, “I’m up here with the kings of the city.”
Mario replied, “No, John—we are missing the Pirates.”
“At least I’m up here with the winning ones,” John said.
Scott couldn’t believe he said that either. “I always tried to preach to John to . . . be careful what you say, because someone always has a microphone on.” Sure enough, there was a microphone on, and it was put out into the media that John had dissed the Pirates—though John hadn’t meant anything by it. The Pirates were struggling, and John had made a true statement. The next morning, Scott called Patty Paytas, the senior vice-president of community and public affairs for the Pirates, to apologize for John’s words, but she insisted they were not to worry about anything; that is what made John so special.
Christine Simpson, the sister of ex –Penguin player Craig Simpson, was the rink-side reporter for the Versus network (now NBC Sports Network). She interviewed John and did a great job getting him to open up and tell the world to live life to the fullest. John’s message was really getting out.
Scott recalled a phone call he received from ESPN reporter Tom Rinaldi. Tom’s crew had done a week’s worth of filming for the story, and Tom Rinaldi called right before it aired on June 8 to explain the first thirty seconds. He was going to open by saying John Challis was dying. “It was very emotional,” Scott recalled. The family separated for the viewing. Gina stayed with John in the living room. Scott went to the bedroom. Lexie went to her room. “I didn’t know what to expect from John,” said Scott. “I came out of the bedroom, and John got off the couch and said they did a pretty good job. Actually, Lexie was the star. We had so many phone calls about Lexie and how she showed . . . true love for her brother, and how her brother made her grow.”
Excerpts from the ESPN story “John Challis: Courage + Believe = Life” (originally aired June 8, 2008; available at http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=3432355):
Tom Rinaldi [ESPN Reporter]: After facing cancer for eighteen months, John decided he wanted to face a fastball one more time.
Steve Wetzel: He goes, “If getting hit by the baseball . . . if that’s the worst thing that’s going to happen to me, come on.” He goes, “Look what I deal with every day.”
Lexie Challis: Nothing can hurt him, so why sit at home and lay in bed with back pain, when you could be with your friends in the batter’s box, living your life.
Tom Rinaldi: April 11 . . . watching as a 93-pound pinch hitter, dressed in a flak jacket, had a chance to swing at one more pitch. . . .
John Challis: First pitch: fastball, right down the middle. I swing; I crack it right between second and first, and it makes its way to the outfield. I get to about ten steps to the bag and I’m screaming, “I did it! I did it!” . . .
Tom Rinaldi: It was a moment caught by a single photo, a moment which still glows.
Scott Challis: He just wanted to prove—he just wanted to prove that he could do it! You know . . . and prove it to himself. Not to—at that point, not to his teammates, but to John Challis.
John Challis: That must been a good feeling for him to know . . . “That’s my boy! That’s my boy that just got that hit. Overcoming every odd there is, he still doing it.”
Tom Rinaldi: Above the flak jacket guarding his tumor that day, and under the bill of the cap atop his head, a simple message was written: “John Challis #11 Courage + Believe = Life.”
John Challis: I can live with it, but it ain’t gonna go away . . . never will. But I can live the way I’m living for the rest of my life, and I am fine with that. I’m strong enough to do that. And I couldn’t have lived the rest of my life knowing cancer got the best of me.
Tom Rinaldi: On a day to celebrate, Freedom’s graduates now behold their futures. As John Challis does his bravely, still competing, still living.
Lexie Challis: Someday John won’t be there to see me graduate. Someday John won’t be there to be an uncle for my kids. I’m scared of him dying, but I’m not worried about that now. I’m living today’s life, and I’m living life to the fullest today, not to wait for what’s going happen in ten years, not to wait for what’s going happen in a week. I’m living
today.
Tom Rinaldi: Who taught you that?
Lexie Challis: My brother, John Challis. He taught me to live today, don’t worry about tomorrow.
After the family’s western Caribbean cruise in June 2008, they received a phone call from the producer of Dan Patrick’s daily national sports talk show. He wanted to interview John. John spoke with him for about thirteen minutes. Scott recalled the situation: “I really didn’t know anything about this interview until Kevin Raszeja, my counterpart in Milwaukee, called to tell me he just heard my son on the radio. I had no idea at the time of the wide range of sports talk shows in the country who were reaching out to John. . . . Scott Van Pelt’s show contacted Mike White from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette to talk about John. Mr. Van Pelt thought it would be too uncomfortable for him to talk to John. The Gambo and Ash Show, another sports talk show out of Phoenix, called John. What a couple of great guys. A radio talk show from Alabama called and talked to him. Bill Wilhelm from 95.9 WATD FM in Boston reached out to him.”
PART 10
SPORTS: “THE HIT”; PRO TEAMS AND ATHLETES REACH OUT TO AND ARE INSPIRED BY JOHN
“Sports do not build character. They reveal it.”
—John Wooden
With one swing of a bat on April 11, 2008, John and his message of living life to the fullest each day were about to go worldwide.
Every so often, ESPN will do a story or highlight of a sport at its finest—but not a game-winning play by a professional athlete or a world-record performance by an Olympian. No, it will highlight a regular athlete doing something extraordinary in an unexpected situation.
Think back to autistic teen Jason McElwain in February 2006, sinking six three-pointers plus a two-point shot for a total of twenty points in three minutes in a high school basketball game.
I Was Picked Page 8
