University of North Carolina Athletics
COUNTDOWN TO KICKOFF: Waddell Reaches Out
August 18, 2003 | Football
by Adam Lucas
Michael Waddell isn't one to preen after an interception. He doesn't take his helmet off to celebrate a good play, doesn't play to the cameras.
So it's no surprise, really, to find out that he's been a very busy man over the past couple of months without anyone knowing.
For most college students, summer is a time of video games and sleeping late. Waddell has done some of that. But he has also stopped by Pence Place, a home for disabled children, at least three times in the past three months. The first time, he was loaded down with Carolina gear and pocket schedules. The second time, like any 21st-century athlete, he brought his posse--which consisted of his father, better known in Richmond County as Big Mike.
The reason for his visits to Pence Place is a 15-year-old boy named A.J. Alford. A lifelong Tar Heel fan, A.J. was diagnosed with MELAS Syndrome when he was 13 years old. Timelines aren't easy to find, but A.J. is visited on a daily basis by a Hospice employee. One of his brothers and one of his sisters have already died from the disease, which is hereditary. Details about the condition, which affects less than .02% of the American population, are scarce, but emedicine.com refers to it as "a progressive neurodegenerative disorder...characterized by strokelike episodes and a mitochondrial myopathy."
You don't have to understand what that means. All you have to understand is that life isn't easy for A.J., who is usually confined to a wheelchair. Until age 13, he was a regular boy, running and playing at will. Since then, it has become extremely difficult for him to talk, and almost everything he does--except walking, which the Pence Place workers say he can do faster than most anyone when he gets the urge--is at a slow pace.
Slow isn't something Michael Waddell, who is known as "Rabbit" to most everyone, including A.J., knows much about. Fast has always been his trademark, ever since he shocked the Carolina coaching staff by running a 4.22 40-yard dash as a high schooler at the Tar Heel football camp.
Rabbit doesn't know slow. But Rabbit does know people, which is how he came to be sitting in a large room at Pence Place handing out Carolina football pocket schedules featuring his picture.
Carolina football fanatics Kenneth and Claudia Robinette have known Waddell since he was growing up in Ellerbe. Word reached them that there was a 15-year-old who loved the Tar Heels who might appreciate some Carolina items.
They did better than just provide the items. They contacted Waddell and told him about the young man in his hometown with a quick smile and a love for Carolina. The 22-year-old Waddell did the rest.
"I'd say I am religious," Waddell said. "And I know the man up above, this is what he expects people to do. That's all I did, and I'll continue to do it...They told me about this kid and about his condition. He's a Carolina fan and living in my hometown. There was no way I wouldn't go."
You're picturing the stereotypes of group homes, thinking of a dark place that smells musty. The picture in your mind is depressing, filled with unhappiness.
It's OK. That's how most people picture a group home.
"Most people who come in are nervous," said Wendy Blanton, who has worked at Pence Place for seven years. "But Michael wasn't. He took his stuff down to A.J.'s room and really spent a lot of time with him."
Understand that meeting new people isn't something that is especially easy for Waddell. He is shy by nature, a somewhat rare trait in a cornerback. But he's most comfortable with people he knows from his hometown, and A.J. was a hometown guy. Waddell signed a stack of pocket schedules and gave them to his new friend. At first, A.J. kept them all for himself. Eventually, he shared one with each of the other patients at Pence Place.
The first visit went well, and then Waddell brought his father by to meet A.J., whose parents aren't able to visit daily because of conflicting schedules. As word started to filter up the Carolina football tree, the process began: A.J. was going on a trip to watch Waddell play in person at a Tar Heel football practice on Monday, August 18 and later he was going to go to a game at Kenan Stadium on Sept. 6.
There are dangers associated with taking a 15-year-old MELAS patient on a 90-minute car trip. He has good days and bad days, and on the bad days he can sleep all day or have potentially violent seizures. August 18, however, was a good day.
How could it not be? A.J. was told he'd be attending Carolina's practice, and he beamed all weekend in preparation for the trip. When Blanton arrived at work on the day of the practice, A.J. gave her the 100-watt smile and a big wave, ready at 7 a.m. (a half-hour early) for his trip.
As a rule, there is no cheering from the sidelines at a University of North Carolina football practice.
At A.J.'s practice session, the rule changed.
During the team portion of the practice, Waddell picked off an errant pass and returned it for a touchdown. From the sidelines, a soft, "Go Rabbit!" could be heard.
Head coach John Bunting heard the cheer and his head swiveled toward the sidelines. He is not a man who suffers practice distractions lightly, to the point that all visitors are asked to turn their cell phones on vibrate. He pointed at the offender...and smiled. "A.J., that one was for you!" he boomed.
"Sometimes players--and I was one--have a tendency to feel a little sorry for themselves when they're out here in the hot sun all day," Bunting said later. "It's really neat to meet somebody who is so strong and is working to enjoy every bit of the day."
Waddell later presented A.J. with the football he had intercepted, which his Richmond County buddy cradled preciously. As the Tar Heels broke their final practice huddle, it looked like the end of a storybook day.
Except that it wasn't over.
With Jacque Lewis and Willie Parker leading the way, the entire Carolina roster walked over to where A.J. had watched practice from his wheelchair. "Hey man, how's it going?" Lewis said, and suddenly A.J. was surrounded with nearly 100 of his newest and closest friends.
Only it was kind of hard to see the football players, what with the ear-to-ear smile radiating from the 15-year-old, 70-pound boy.
Skip Seagraves complimented him on his Carolina t-shirt. Jeb Terry asked him what he thought of practice. John Bunting, who regularly rides to practice on a bicycle, stopped by and pointed out that both he and A.J. were on wheels. Plans were made for a trip to the Syracuse game. And then it was noon, time for the players to report to their next meeting and time for A.J. to take his two daily pills that help control his seizure episodes.
"You know, I really wasn't a Carolina fan before all this," Blanton said. "But seeing the way they've done all this, you can't help but be a Tar Heel."
Adam Lucas is the publisher of Tar Heel Monthly and can be reached at alucas@tarheelmonthly.com. To subscribe to Tar Heel Monthly, click here.
