It was a particularly cold fall evening in 2019, but I was riding back to Wayne County with the windows down.
Truth be told, I needed the fresh air.
Two local football teams had just been eliminated from the state playoffs and watching the players from one of them leave the field with their heads down, some with tears in their eyes, made me emotional — to the point where it literally triggered a physical reaction.
As I drove back to Goldsboro, memories of my own childhood came flooding in.
And when I finally got home, I felt compelled to write about one of them in particular.
As I typed, I could still see the dust I kicked up covering my new Air Jordans — how I looked back at the dugout and winked at my teammates as they tried to will me to hit a game-winning grand slam.
I could picture my 18-year-old self pointing to the tree line behind the left field fence — calling my shot before taking a massive cut and walking the bases as the ball soared toward a horizon kissed with bursts of pink and orange as the sun set.
And then, I remembered falling to my knees and weeping shortly after I rounded third — confronted by the reality that the ballpark was, in fact, empty, and the crack of my bat was just a figment of my imagination.
Digging into the batter’s box?
Calling my shot?
Pretending I had hit the game-winning home run?
I did those things to come to terms with my high school team’s playoff loss the day before.
You see, it was my senior year, so those moments alone on the diamond were my goodbye to baseball — and, in some ways, my childhood.
So I shared that story back then to remind those seniors who had closed a chapter after those playoff losses that a successful season is about more than hoisting a trophy.
I wanted them to know, from someone who had been there, that not closing out their playing careers as “champions” didn’t make them failures — that the joy they have brought to their family members, friends, schools, and communities means more than something that will, years from now, be just another piece of hardware in a glass case.
I had no idea that a young man, four years later, would reinforce that message without saying a word.
For most of those reading this, the picture above — taken Oct. 30 after Charles B. Aycock’s 1-0 NCHSAA playoff win over West Carteret — might not mean much.
But I would wager that those who know the young man in the photo got goosebumps when they saw it — some, maybe even wiping tears from their eyes.
You see, Cristian Lopez, while in mid-air, took a blow from an opposing player during CBA’s regular season finale at Southern Wayne.
He was taken off the field via ambulance and doctors later told him he was lucky to have avoided paralysis.
But there he was, less a week later, on the sideline cheering on his brothers.
And after they sealed the victory?
Just look at him.
Look at the pure joy.
Moments like that remind us of the power of sports.
And we hope, no matter the outcome of their playoff run, that every single player on the Golden Falcons’ squad understands that when they look back on their 2023 season, that moment — the one where their fallen teammate, a senior, eluded tragedy and beamed with pride despite his inability to play in what could have been his final high school soccer game — will live forever.
So even if their team doesn’t bring a trophy back to Pikeville — if, the day after a season-ending loss, one of their seniors feels compelled to walk out to that field after hours to play out a game-winning penalty shot to cope with the end of their soccer career and childhood — we hope he has perspective.
We hope, as he imagines his teammates trying to will the ball past the keeper and, perhaps, breaks down as he slides toward the corner in celebration, he’ll know that going out with a loss doesn’t make him a failure.
Thanks to Cristian — and whatever angel helped him elude paralysis that night on the Southern Wayne pitch — the 2023 Falcons’ season will forever be golden.
