HAMMOND, Ind. (AP) - Before every pitch, Michael Gil steps out of the batter’s box and makes the sign of the cross.
It’s a common gesture among players, but in the case of the Bishop Noll senior, it is a true expression of thankfulness.
“I should have been dead twice,” Gil told The (Munster) Times (https://bit.ly/1Qf1NIU ). “How I’m alive, I don’t know. I look at it like I’m really lucky. God didn’t let me die. I’m just happy to be on the field.”
There is a profound irony in Gil’s deep love of baseball.
“They told me he would never function like a normal child,” Cynthia Gil, Michael’s mother, said. “He would always require 24-7 care. That was what his life was bound to be. He wouldn’t have the motor skills to read a book, drive a car or throw a ball.”
Michael was born two months premature on Sept. 1, 1995, at Munster Community Hospital. He was in the nursery when Cynthia’s sister Mary noticed his color was off and he was labored breathing.
The family was eventually told Michael likely wouldn’t survive the night unless he was transported to another hospital. He was put on a ventilator and rushed by medevac to Chicago, while Cynthia had to remain in Munster to recover from the emergency C section.
Michael was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fetal Hypertension and suffering from pneumothorax (a collapsed lung). He was sedated because his tiny body couldn’t withstand the trauma of crying. Cynthia was allowed to leave the hospital early in order to be with Michael. Again, doctors told her his prognosis was grim.
“All I could do was pray and wait,” said Cynthia, a 21-year old Purdue student at the time. “The worst feeling was there was nothing I could do.”
Not a person of strong faith, she went to the hospital chapel and prayed for “the first time ever”, pouring out her feelings in a prayer book. She asked God to let her son live, promising to do everything she could to be the best mother she could be, given the chance. Incredibly, Michael began to improve.
“My mother swears that a light came through the window and it was an angel coming to save to him,” Cynthia said. “The doctors were astounded.”
Whatever brought about the recovery, Michael continued to progress. Slowly but surely, the network of tubes, marks from which are still visible on his body, were removed. His lungs strengthened. Cynthia touched her son for the first time at about eight weeks. He was two months old when she was allowed to take him home, albeit with the burden of a bleak diagnosis.
There were excruciating months as his body acclimated to life away from the hospital, but Michael kept making strides. With the immeasurable help of his paternal grandparents, Bruno and Jean Davidovich, Cynthia was able to finish college.
Michael was tested for a learning disability in first grade and passed, though it was determined he suffered a hearing loss of 40 percent, a result of the sedation. Over time, he weaned himself off his inhaler and stopped wearing hearing aids in eighth grade. Now he simply calls it “selective hearing.”
“It’s mind-blowing,” said John Miranda, who became Michael’s step-father in 2005. “I never noticed anything physical, mental. He was just a great kid who loved sports, baseball. Other than (the hearing), he was a normal kid.”
Michael was held back in second grade and while school has always been hard, he persevered, Cynthia getting him as much help as she could on the side.
“As a teacher, to have them tell me he was never going to have a normal life, it made me stay on him, push him to make sure he did the best he could,” Cynthia said. “I wasn’t going to allow him to have a crutch, to settle, and I wasn’t going to either. I didn’t want him to feel he wasn’t capable of doing anything, to see obstacles and give up. I made a promise and I had to stick to it.”
Along the way, Michael caught on to his mom’s dogged tenacity.
“The first time was probably second grade,” he said. “She was on my butt. She always challenged me. My uncles (Danny and Rick) made it a lot harder on me, to make sure I did things right, but my mom was 10 times worse. She didn’t give me even a little break. It was always, if you want anything in life, you have to go for it.”
It was a big reason Michael wound up at Noll after he sought to leave the private school setting the year before.
“I didn’t want to go there, but my freshman year, I started to love it,” he said. “I’m happy I go there.”
Michael was 5 when grandpa Bruno introduced him to baseball. He began playing sports year-round, but baseball stood out. During a second grade class project, he said he wanted to be a professional baseball player. He came home crying after his teacher told him he couldn’t.
“I missed a family vacation to Disney World to play,” he said. “My grandpa always took me to practice. He was like my second dad. It’s all I wanted to do. It’s my happy place. When I’m on the field, nothing else matters. I eat, sleep and breathe baseball. It’s all I’ve got. It compares to life. You never know what’s going to come. You have to be ready. That’s why I like it so much.”
At Noll, Michael again dabbled in a variety of athletics, but baseball was the one that stuck. It was his sole sport this year.
“It’s my last year of high school; I didn’t want to hurt it,” he said. “During winter workouts, I never missed a morning practice. Being a senior, I felt like I had to be there to help the younger guys.”
There was a particular sense of urgency after another brush with tragedy last spring. Michael was on his way back with friends from a post-prom trip to Great America when their vehicle was struck by a car that skidded into their path as its driver attempted to pass a semi on a bridge in Chicago Heights. He pulled a classmate from the wreckage as the other vehicle burst into flames.
After what he went through as a baby, Cynthia feared she was going to lose him again. A seat belt may have saved Michael’s life, though he sustained numerous cuts and a lung contusion.
“I felt like that was my second strike,” he said.
Michael missed the rest of the season and wasn’t back up to speed for much of the summer. This spring, the second baseman/catcher leads the Warriors in, of all things, being hit by pitches. He will graduate June 5 and is already teasing Cynthia, a Spanish teacher at Highland, about how much she’ll cry.
“Being a teacher for so long, I see how many kids give up on themselves,” she said. “With the setbacks he’s had, it’s so encouraging to see him constantly trying to strive forward, to persevere no matter what. I’ve always tried to teach him not to let others dictate your future, to tell you what you’re worth. You tell them. You’re the one accountable. It’s hard, but I tell him, don’t get mad, get better.”
Michael will attend Ancilla College and try out for the baseball team. He wants to continue in the sport as long as possible. Otherwise, he plans to stay involved in athletics by going into physical therapy or sports medicine.
“It’s kind of crazy. I look at my life now, I feel like it all can’t be true,” he said. “I get frustrated, down at times, but I’ve never given up on myself. My mom didn’t raise me to be that way. You have to live every second like it’s your last.”
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Information from: The Times, https://www.thetimesonline.com
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