Greg Morrell - the kid who couldn't catch a cold

It was the spring of 1968 or 1969, not exactly sure which. Tryouts had just taken place at Avoca Little League and new players had been picked for the year.

The coach of my Hayes Amoco team noticed one particular boy who was slumping as he walked away from the field. The boy’s name was Greg Morrell. His little brother, Mike, had just been picked for our team - but not Greg. In fact, Greg had not been picked by any team at all. Back in the day not everyone got picked to play. There were only so many teams and only so many spots on a roster.

I personally saw our coach (who also happened to be my father) walk over to the very sad twelve-year-old Greg Morrell and tell him that he was going to make sure he was on our team (even though League rules limited our roster). Then he told Greg to quit slouching and come join us.

The first time Dad saw Greg run he told him he was going to play center field for us.

Although Greg could run like the wind, it turns out he wasn’t good at catching fly balls (the main job of a center fielder).

Eventually Dad began tying Greg’s glove to his hand before each game - due to it flopping off at times when he chased after a fly ball.

I asked Dad why he started Greg in center field, of all places, considering Greg’s biggest weakness was catching long fly balls.

Dad said, “Because I love the way he plays hard on every single play. Notice how he never gives up on a ball. He goes all out at everything he does. A kid like that deserves a chance to play. Because I’ll tell you right now - a kid like that may not be great at center field, but he’s gonna do somethin’ great in life.”

Time and again, Greg missed catching more than a few fly balls hit to center field - no matter how swiftly he raced beneath them.

Upon Greg’s return to the dugout, Dad would often say something like, “Morrell, you couldn’t even catch a cold in winter! But, hey, you saved us a run just by knockin’ the ball down. I like the way you never give up! I wish everybody would play as hard as you.”

Greg was a smart guy, even as a kid. He knew very well that such words were phrases of honest endearment and encouragement from Dad, and not in any way a personal put-down (though in today’s world somebody might take it all the wrong way).

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Fast forward now to four years later, when Greg was almost completely paralyzed from the neck down at age sixteen in a freak football accident at East High School. Those legs that once ran like the wind would never again even flinch an inch.

However.

Not only did Greg not give up on life after being paralyzed, he went on to graduate high school. Then he graduated ETSU. Not only that, but Greg went on to help found a wonderful local non-profit organization. He served as its Executive Director for many years on end - The Appalachian Independence Center in Abingdon - which focused on helping people with disabilities find meaningful jobs and meaning in their lives. Greg even asked me to serve on his board, which I did for five years.

In the words of Sue Morrell, his dear mother (who is still living); “Greg finished his last two years of high school in a wheelchair, but this never slowed him down. He went on to ETSU, graduated with a double major, went on to stay employed his entire adult life, driving to work in a specially equipped van, and his life's work was helping other people with disabilities be able to access schools, work places, and to change the attitudes toward persons with a disability. He proved every day of his life, that a person with a disability was just as normal as anyone else, their disability was just a part of their life they learned to adapt to, as Greg did.”

One of the highlights of my teaching career each year was when Greg would visit my classroom to speak to my students about people with disabilities. I have included a pic here of one such visit. My students always adored Greg and his ever-present sense of humor.

One fine springtime evening as we were about to begin a board meeting in Abingdon, Greg guided his wheelchair toward me (we always sat side-by-side at every board meeting). I noticed he had a baseball glove and a ball of string in his lap. He asked me to tie the baseball glove to his hand. While I did as Greg asked, my eyes began to water up a bit - because I knew exactly what pre-game ritual he was re-enacting from our long ago Little League days.

“I will never forget your dad for believing in me,” Greg told me. Then he chuckled, “Hey, if I knew you were gonna cry I’d have brought along some tissue.”

I winked at him and said, “I think it’s just a cold.”