Summer's dark season

But beneath a cloudless blue sky last August in Long Beach, Calif., on a day of high stakes and high emotions, Summer and her mother, Rhonda Johnson, struggle to make a decision: Should they settle in behind home plate or perhaps closer to third base?

As they make their way behind third, Summer insists: Closer, mom. Closer.

It is, after all, a monumental moment for Summer’s big brother, Kel Johnson. A top high school prospect, Kel, 18, is competing for a spot on the USA 18U baseball team. Elite players 18 and under are being selected from a highly competitive pool to represent the country in an international tournament in Taiwan. Scouts are everywhere.

Summer isn’t the typical sister watching from the stands. She swings a strong bat, too, in softball. She and Kel both wear the same jersey number — 25.

With the game already underway, Summer and her mother finally seize upon two seats — middle of the fourth row, just behind third base. With her long blonde hair brushing her waist, Summer cheerfully plops down, toting an iPod Touch for snapping photos. She nibbles on peanut M&Ms and fixes her hazel eyes on the pitch.

The last thing she hears, before her life changes forever, is the crack of the bat.

It’s a foul ball. A scout clocks the pitch at 95 miles an hour. The sound of bones shattering echoes inside the ballpark. M&Ms scatter like confetti. Summer is hit squarely in her left eye.

She looks around in a haze. Players hang over the edge of the dugout, looking at her fearfully. An elderly man nearby holds his stomach as if he’s about to be sick. Blood spurts from her nose, seeps into her mouth. Crimson red dribbles onto the ground. Her face begins to swell.

Kel jumps over the fence from the dugout. He puts his hand on his little sister’s knee and tells her everything is going to be OK.

Legendary baseball manager Tommy Lasorda, sitting just 15 feet away, rushes to Summer's side. Her first words to him are a question: Will I still be able to play softball?
 

2
A unique family
Summer and Kel don't hail from your traditional baseball family. The Johnson family lives off the land in rural Palmetto, 27 miles southwest of Atlanta. They grow their own vegetables. They fish in the lake. They hunt deer and wild turkeys; Summer, too.

In many way, the family homestead looks like a summer camp, complete with a lake and archery range shaded by poplar trees. Inside the family’s log cabin, where the walls are adorned with woodburned Bible passages, oil lamps are used to offset their dependence on electricity. One recent day, homemade vegetable soup simmered on a stove top; corn bread baked in the oven.

Rhonda Johnson, who works part time in a lab at St. Joseph’s hospital, home-schools her children. (Oldest child Jason is now a senior at Point University, a small Christian college in West Point.) She chose that route initially for religious reasons. She wanted church and prayer, an integral part of their lives, to be woven into their daily school life. But over time she realized homeschooling was an efficient way to educate her children and allow more time to play ball.

Beneath a chandelier constructed of deer antlers, the family begins every morning reading in the living room. From there, they move on to math, social studies. They study religion. For science, they go outside and explore the natural world. Recess is swimming in the lake or getting into mud fights. Once a week, Summer joins other home-schoolers at a church for a day of traditional classroom instruction.

But there is always one constant: Playing ball. When Summer was 5, Kel would hit balls into a thicket of bushes and run around the bases three or four times while Summer searched for it. On rainy days, after dark, or any other time the kids couldn’t play outside, they turned their home into Fenway Park. Kel made balls out of bright blue yarn — big ones, the size of grapefruit. They moved furniture. Home plate was in front of the TV. Using small, wooden bats, they’d send the ball sailing. If it reached the loft, it was an automatic home run.

Summer always lost.

“I can’t believe she never won,” Kel said recently, recalling those indoor games. He seemed surprised at himself. “I guess I am so competitively wired,” he added.

But Summer wasn’t discouraged. She was determined “to beat him just once,” she said.

Summer and Kel’s love of ball came not from their father, Lee, a taxidermist, but their mother. Rhonda was a competitive softball player in her youth and comes from a family of ball players, including a sister who was an all-American and a father who was a standout at Georgia Tech.

Several times a week, beginning when Kel was 7, Rhonda would take him to an open field a mile from their house. There, in the quiet country, Rhonda would pitch and Kel would hit — again and again. The ball soared consistently 200, even 300 yards over a chain-link fence. By age 13, Kel was playing outfield on a traveling team with East Cobb Baseball.

Meanwhile, Summer was developing into a solid softball player. She joined the Pink Panthers of West Georgia traveling team, playing catcher, arguably the game's most physically demanding position. Summer reveled in the gritty work, dripping sweat inside the bulky protective gear and face mask. She had a strong arm and was a team leader. And like many good catchers, she was mentally tough. She didn't let the inevitable bad play throw her off her game.
Coach Jon Monsour recalled a game last season when an opposing player ran toward second base and Summer threw a wild pitch that soared above her teammate's head.

“Some girls will cry,” he said. “It really eats them, but I look over at Summer and she’s smiling, shrugs her shoulders and she’s like, ‘Oops!’”

He doesn’t say a word to her because he knows what comes next.

"On the next play, she will make up for it. She will dive into the fence to catch a pop-up ball. If a girl steals a base, she will be determined to get that girl out on the next play."

3
Praying for a miracle
Rhonda knew Summer's injury was serious. The velocity. The impact. Her little girl.

“I remember thinking, ‘This is not OK.’ I felt desperate,” said Rhonda.

Kel recalled watching the ball barrel toward his mother and, at the very last moment, turn toward Summer. It’s not unusual for a ball to hit someone in the stands. But not like this, not like a low, straight missile.

Summer doesn't have a chance avoiding that hit, Kel thought.

She was conscious and alert when she arrived at the Long Beach hospital. Her eye socket and forehead were crushed, her skull was fractured and her brain was bleeding. Summer was placed in the intensive care unit, and a neurosurgeon was on the way.

When Rhonda wasn't pacing, she was on her hands and knees praying by Summer's bedside. Please God, help her make it. She called her husband in Palmetto and her pastor, Gene Tyre of Providence Baptist Church. A prayer chain quickly spread. Summer's cousin created a website, sharing photos and updates with concerned loved ones.

The first 24 to 48 hours of a brain injury are the most critical. Lucky for Summer, her brain stopped bleeding in that time. She wouldn’t need surgery right away, but her eye and face were swollen. The left side of her face was numb, and she felt dizzy. The extent of the damage to her vision was not yet known.

It was a cruel turn of events for a girl who had counted down the days before going to California; who’d packed her suitcase weeks in advance. On the flight over, she’d snapped dozens of photos of clouds. On the day of the game, Summer and her mom had ridden bikes in Newport Beach, watched the seals frolic and eaten a frozen treat made from fresh strawberries that Summer had enjoyed so much that she’d taken a photograph of it.

As word of Summer’s injury made the rounds, a handful of major league teams sent teddy bears, flowers and cards, including the Braves.

Kel skipped some of the tryout games to stay by Summer’s side in the hospital. But he made the team and left for Taiwan to compete in the tournament.

At the hospital, Summer remained upbeat. She didn't understand the solemn faces. Why is everybody so upset? she kept asking. She was so polite, she thanked the nurses when they pricked her with needles. On the website, she posted a photo of herself with a quote from the artist and former nun, Corita Kent: Flowers grow out of dark moments.

Six days after the accident, Summer got the OK to go home. With her left eye swollen shut, she slept most of the flight, holding onto a teddy bear for comfort.

A couple weeks later, Kel returned home from Taiwan triumphant, gold medal in hand.

4
Road to recovery
When Summer came home, her vision was blurred in her left eye, causing her to see double. She bumped into tables. She crashed into walls. For weeks after the accident, she couldn't feel her lips or teeth on the left side of her face. While putting on lip gloss one day, she wondered: How am I going to put on makeup when I am older?

In early September, the Johnson family went to Providence Baptist Church as they did every Sunday. But before the service began, Kel stood up, slipped his Team USA jersey over his blue button-up shirt and turned to Summer. He had something to say.

Addressing the congregation, he told them how faithfully Summer had supported him over the years. From the time she was a baby, she traveled to hundreds, even thousands of games and tournaments, happily cheering on her big brother. She was there supporting him when she got hit by the ball. What a great sister you are, he said.

And then he draped his gold medal around her neck.

The congregation stood and applauded. After church, Summer went home and hung the medal on the pale blue wooden cross in her bedroom.

With every passing day, Summer seemed to get better. The dark spot in the middle of her vision faded, little by little. The headaches and dizziness abated.

Then the improvements stopped. In late September, she underwent surgery at Emory to have a metal plate placed behind her eye to support it. That’s when doctors discovered severe damage to her optic nerve, which connects the eye to the brain. The damage is most likely permanent, but her right eye has begun to compensate. She’s back to reading and writing and excelling in school.

"God has a plan and we are OK with whatever happens," said Rhonda. "But we also pray every day for Summer's eyesight to be restored."

5
Ready to play ball
Just six weeks after the accident, Summer donned a glove, picked up a softball and approached her mother. She wanted to throw.

Insisting Summer wear a mask before heading into the yard, Rhonda lobbed her an easy, underhanded pitch.

Summer saw two balls coming toward her. While she reached out to catch one — the shadowy one she saw with the left eye — the real ball hit her arm.

Rhonda retrieved the ball and moved closer, just 10 feet away. What do you see with that left eye? she asked, holding up the ball. Summer couldn't see it. Rhonda stepped closer, just four feet away. Again she asked: What do you see with that left eye?

This time Summer saw the ball — but it was tiny, the size of a dime.

“I could tell she was surprised how hard it was to catch the ball,” said Rhonda. “But she never said anything. She was just thinking.”

Back in California, Tommy Lasorda couldn’t stop thinking about that little girl in the stands.

“I believe in God, but couldn’t understand why something like this would happen,” he said.

He had to see how she was faring, so the day after his 86th birthday he flew to Georgia on a private jet provided by the Dodgers.

Over a home-cooked meal prepared by Rhonda that included a strawberry birthday cake, Lasorda told Summer about another child who injured an eye and thought he’d never play ball again. Tanner Vavra, the son of Minnesota Twins third-base coach Joe Vavra, was 10 years old at the time. He’d lost sight in his right eye after two freak accidents, one while fishing, the other while playing touch football.

It didn't look like he was going to play pro ball, the boy told Lasorda. Who said that? retorted Lasorda. Was it doctors? Was it God? When God tells you you can't play, then you can't play, said Lasorda. Fast forward 13 years this summer and Tanner Vavra was drafted by the Minnesota Twins. In press interviews, Tanner credited his success in part to that conversation with Lasorda.

You can do anything you want to, if you believe it, Lasorda told Summer. She grabbed her iPod Touch and typed in his advice: If you lose your self-confidence, then you lose everything.

"She's the type of girl who is going to battle to the best of her abilities," he said in a recent phone conversation. "I think things are going to work out for her."

6
No looking back
The Pink Panthers of West Georgia start back in March, and coach Jon Monsour is holding the catcher's position open for Summer for now.

“I know she wants to play and wants to play bad,” said Monsour. “At the same time, I don’t want to be one of those coaches who is only interested in team success. I want to let her get herself together and talk to her family about their long-term plan and see what they are comfortable with.”

She’s already inspired the team, he said.

“You know how they say it’s not what happens to you in life, but how you react to what happens?” said Monsour said. “Well, that’s Summer.”

As for Summer, if her sight comes back “that would be awesome,” she said. But she no longer expects it to happen.

“I’m OK with it either way.”

On a recent afternoon, sitting at the wooden table in the kitchen, Summer twirled a paper napkin around with her forefinger while Kel filled out a questionnaire from a major league team assessing his signability. He’s received them from all 30 major league teams.

“Everyone asks ‘name of school,’” he said. “I write ‘home-schooled.’ And then they ask ‘address of school,’ so I write ‘home,’” he said.

They both laughed.

Kel is headed to Georgia Tech on a full baseball scholarship in the fall. But scouting experts anticipate he will be a high draft pick this summer, so he is open to the possibility of heading directly into the major leagues.

In preparation for lunch, Kel and Summer set the table and said a prayer before dining on venison goulash and pomegranates. Afterward, Summer read an article from a news magazine for school and then skipped outside to jump on the trampoline.

Shortly before the accident, Summer had nailed a back handspring.

She was ready to try it again.

Wearing black sweats and a bright pink sweatshirt, her long hair swept into a pony tail, she stepped onto the trampoline. Leaves — brown, rusty red and gold — were strewn across the smooth canvas. She kicked them to the side and erupted in laughter.

Then she arched her back, her long arms reaching overhead, and without hesitation flipped backward, bouncing briefly off the palm of her hands before landing back on her feet, a big smile on her face.

A few more back handsprings, she said. Maybe eight more, maybe 10 more.

And with that, she jumped backward again and again, filling the air with laughter.

HOW WE GOT THE STORY
Helena Oliviero learned about Summer Johnson's plight last fall from former colleague Michelle Hiskey, who now works at Emory University. Summer had just undergone surgery at Emory Hospital.  The cruel irony of Summer's injury occurring in the arena where her brother, Kel,  was achieving prominence stayed with Oliviero. She spent hours with the family at their home in Palmetto. She also interviewed Summer's doctor and legendary baseball manager Tommy Lasorda. The result is a moving story about a remarkable 12-year-old girl grappling to overcome a serious injury with grace and optimism.

Suzanne Van Atten
Features Enterprise Editor
personaljourneys@ajc.com

About the reporter

Helena Oliviero joined the AJC in 2002 as a features writer. Previously she worked for the Sun News in Myrtle Beach, S.C., and Knight Ridder as a correspondent in Mexico. The leader of the pack in Personal Journeys, she's written nine to date. She was educated at the University of San Francisco.

About the photographer

Hyosub Shin was born and raised in Korea. Inspired by the work of National Geographic photographers, he came to the United States about 10 years ago to study photography. Past assignments include the Georgia Legislative session, Atlanta Dream's Eastern Conference title game, the Atlanta Air Show and the Atlanta Braves' National League Division Series.