As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Jan talking with friends and family. Memories flashed through my mind of the difficult times our families had overcome; my father’s battle with a brain aneurysm and her husband’s struggle to overcome a brush fire incident. Each family had a tendency to be the other’s back brace when times were rough. We had come through those two crises at 2-0. I handed her the baseball in the line outside the entrance to the church. Inscribed on the ball was, "3-0, becoming an angel is not considered a loss."

The tears began to roll down our cheeks. We embraced each other, and then somberly walked into the church for the funeral. My best friend had died at 18, succumbing to pancreatic cancer.

I sat in the pew and remembered the good old days of backyard baseball, practical jokes and discussions about girls. Tim was taken from his family and friends physically, but he would live on spiritually. He would prove to be the biggest inspiration I’ve ever had. During our last days together I promised him I would do something to make a difference. Eventually, I would work with Jan and the rest of Tim’s immediate family to set up the Tim Heggen Foundation that awards six undergraduate scholarships and contributes money to pancreatic cancer research by sponsoring a high school baseball tournament.

Losing a best friend at 18 was unexpected and unfair, but I chose to use the experience as motivation. I would lace up my cleats; don my Central Dutch jersey; and tape my wrists for pride, fun, opportunity and most of all, for Tim.

Growing up together, he and I shared many hobbies, one of which was baseball. His father had been my Little League coach and the baseball field had been our sanctuary since we were 6. Like every child who smells the leather of a baseball glove, Tim and I wanted to be ballplayers. With him gone, it was my honor to play for the two of us. Little did Central know that when I arrived, the Dutch would put 10 players on the field instead of nine for the next four years.

I knew when I decided to spend the rest of my life researching drug discovery that I had a long road ahead. But each day, no matter how hard or demanding, I knew I had an escape from it all for at least three hours. America’s game allowed me to clear my mind and redirect my energy. The educational experience I received in the classroom provided the technical knowledge I needed to move to the next level, but the skills necessary for life were being provided between two chalked foul lines.

The Madison and Lila Self Fellowship at the University of Kansas will provide tuition and a salary as I pursue a doctoral degree. Chemistry was learned in classrooms from the many amazing professors Central provided, but dedication, commitment and work ethic was learned playing in the dirt with my friends on baseball fields across Iowa. The game made it possible to continue a relationship and keep a promise to a friend.

I’ve been fortunate to have outstanding mentors. The people who have led me by example have influenced me to do the same. I look forward to continuing my education, conducting cancer research and saving lives. Most of all I look forward to telling Jan that a difference is being made. I cannot wait until the day I hand her a baseball inscribed, "4-0, lessening the suffering of cancer victims is considered another victory." Tim might have lost his battle, but the qualities I’ve learned have given me the confidence and determination to help fight the war.

As I hung up my cleats after the conference tournament, I knew the ride of playing Central baseball was over, but the journey of life had just begun. The real world awaits me and I present myself with a resume that speaks volumes because I took the opportunity to be a student-athlete in college. I would do it all again if I had the chance. Then again, I thank God I had the chance to do it once.