Originally published May 24, 1994, by Mike Barnicle for The Boston Globe
On the evening of a splendid, sunny day when Roger Clemens won his fifth game of the year, beating the Minnesota Twins in fine fashion, Peter Gabarro lost the final contest of his very young life. The boy was 12 years old and, Sunday, he was finally shut out by a brain tumor.
Now, before you start twitching in disbelief over this baseball metaphor, let me tell you a bit about the dead boy: He had a huge heart, tremendous spirit and absolutely loved this best of all games, the one so many young people play in endless glee in summer twilight on lots all across the land.
And last fall, as cancer stole his life bitbybit, Peter had this wish: He wanted to go to a World Series and, given the speed and deadly danger of the disease within him, he figured he better get to the 1994 series between Toronto and Atlanta.
Well, it was sold out. There wasn’t a seat left in the SkyDome where the first game was going to be held and so this boy who had endured so much was left momentarily with one more disappointment.
But the doctors and nurses at WentworthDouglas Hospital in New Hampshire refused to yield to reality. They called their two friends here at the Globe, Barbara McDonough and Rose Berry, the telephone operators who know more about the news business and what people like to see in the paper than any pack of editors.
McDonough and Berry insisted something be put in the paper about Peter Gabarro’s request. And then, as always, there followed a wonderful lesson in human nature.
Charity and compassion, more often than not, bubbles from the bottom. Those who call with offers of assistance are people who know what suffering and sadness are all about: cops, firefighters, nurses, school teachers, waitresses, anyone who has had to cope with the daily rigors of this existence.
Quite quickly, John Harrington, the Red Sox owner, and Lou Gorman, then the general manager, came up with seats and hotel rooms in the Sky Dome. A fellow named Gregg Capelli, who runs a company called Electro Source in Toronto, provided limousine service.
Peter Gabarro went to the ball game.
He was thrilled. His dream was all right there: Autographs and pictures, the sights and sounds of the huge crowd, the electricity of the game.
But nothing is forever when it comes to the insidiousness of cancer. It is a disease that only rarely loses.
Over the winter, it chipped away at the boy’s system. The medicines and treatments slowed him, bloated his body but never beat back his strength of spirit.
A year ago, Peter Gabarro threw a nohitter on Opening Day of Little League. He made the All Star team, too.
Then, only a few days into his final season, he was told he had an inoperable brain tumor. If people have difficulty accepting, comprehending or living with such news at age 54 or 64, can you imagine what it must be like for a 12yearold boy to handle? But he did, acting like a champion as he rounded third, heading for home.
The boy’s short life is a lesson. Next time you read or hear something about a basketball player, a major league outfielder or a pro quarterback showing tremendous courage and toughness by taking the field with an injured arm or a painful hamstring, think of all the Peter Gabarros among us: Youngsters who are treated every single day of the week in places like Children’s Hospital for cancers that cruelly steal their wonderfully innocent dreams and then, finally, life itself.
You could win any pennant, any championship at all, with a small measure of the type of tenacity these boys and girls possess. Their desire shames the indifference and apathy so often displayed by so many professional millionaires who take their skills and their status for granted.
Two weeks ago, on a brilliant day, Peter Gabarro attended Opening Day of the Dover, N.H., South
Side Little League, his league. All the players on every team in town stood on the sidelines as Peter was presented with his old uniform, framed, his number retired. Then, he threw out the first pitch of the year to his little brother Seth, the catcher on Peter’s former team.
Peter Gabarro kept a diary. And in it, he wrote that he “likes baseball, basketball, skiing, caring, loves sports, my family, my grandparents, feels happy, proud, lucky, who needs love, peace, a healthy environment, who fears death, world chaos and failure, who loves devotion, pride, who would like to see peace, a healthy community and more caring.”
Sunday night, Peter crossed home plate after his final turn at bat. He was 12 and an allstar.
###