By EARL WATT
Leader & Times

If there was a fan favorite at Brent Gould Field this year, it would have been Kaiser Carlile.

Late in the games it was commonplace for Bee Jay PA announcer Guy Rice to say, “Look at Kaiser hustling down there. Let’s give him a hand.”

And the crowd would respond favorably every time.

Kaiser was very familiar with the game, his team and his job.

He was efficient, and I can’t remember a time when he had to be asked to go get a bat. It was almost instinctual for the little guy.

The dreams of a 9-year-old are to hang around with players like the Bee Jays, and Kaiser was truly living that dream.

Over the years there have been batboys and batgirls in the Bee Jay dugout, and perhaps a relationship was formed here or there, but this one was truly unique.

Kaiser was like the entire team’s little brother, and he was more than a kid assigned to the dugout for the night.

Kaiser, like the rest of the Bee Jays, had made it to the NBC World Series, and he was busy Saturday doing what he had done all summer long.

There was no lack of familiarity on anyone’s part. This was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When Kaiser was accidentally hit, Lawrence Dumont Stadium went silent for about 30 minutes.

I was standing down the first base line taking pictures of the game, and I was the only adult around a group of Wichita kids that were about the same age as Kaiser.

When I showed them a picture of Kaiser that I had taken earlier in the day, one of them said, “I know that kid. I played with him before the game.”

That’s what baseball is supposed to be. Kids come out, play with their buddies, dream of one day making that game-winning play and being inspired by what they see on the field.

But there are always risks — foul balls in the stands, bats that slide out of a batter’s grasp, and even the players, umpires and batboys are at risk.

We can either accept the risks and live the dream, or we can shy away and never experience the thrill that comes with being at the ballpark.

We can drive a car and accept the risks that come with it, or we can sit at home and go nowhere.

Kaiser’s loss hurts so much because Kaiser chose to live. He chose to participate in life rather than be a bystander.

We respect and appreciate Kaiser because of his willingness to live, to be a part of the game, and to serve his team.

Kaiser touched the lives of his community as well as baseball players from coast to coast that came to Liberal this summer to chase their dream.

They, like Kaiser, chose to live, to be a part of the game.

At this time, what is shown on the scoreboard pales in comparison to the loss Kaiser’s family has suffered, and the emotions for the Bee Jays and all the teams participating in the NBC World Series have been affected by the tragedy.

How do I write a story about a game when a little boy has paid the ultimate price just running down bats?

How do games continue?

We continue because we have to. We still have to make the choice to be a part of the game and to live, just like Kaiser.

What is much smaller is whether we win or lose. What is enormous is having the same courage to take the risk, to be inspired by a 9-year-old boy who won the hearts of a community long before a tragic accident in a game.

Kaiser showed us how to live.

Earl Watt is publisher of the Leader & Times in Liberal. Reprinted with permission.