Oftentimes when asked what I do for a living, I like to say that I get paid to brag on my friends. With that being the case, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to brag on a dear friend, Madison Manning, who was called home by his heavenly father Jan. 24, laying to rest a 26-year fight with Cystic Fibrosis.
I first met Madison, affectionately known by friends and family as "Dobo," when I was roughly 19 years old. He joined a few other friends and myself on a venture to create a local sports website that ultimately launched my career. Not long after, we started roaming around Southern Miss' College Hall together as students in their journalism program. He fit into our group like the perfect glove, and our conversations quickly evolved from simply discussing high school sports to open-ended talks about everyday life in this crazy world we all live in.
Part of what makes the world so crazy is that life isn't always fair, and some are given tougher battles than others. Madison was only 9 years old when he first noticed his struggle with shortness of breath. Having lost an older brother to the same disease, his family was already well-educated on CF and prepared to begin treatment that he would have to endure for the rest of his days.
CF is a progressive disease that attacks your organs, particularly the lungs, filling them with mucus and gradually rendering them incapable of functioning. The most unfortunate part is that, at least for now, it's incurable. Roughly 2,500 babies are born in the U.S. each year under these circumstances. Madison was one of them, and that'll never seem fair, but it never stopped him from enjoying life and being a light to everyone who was lucky enough to know him.
As anyone who knew him would attest, Madison's light shined brightest during baseball season. His love for the America's pastime was unmatched. Even though his circumstances prevented him from becoming the five-tool player that I'm certain he would've been otherwise, he relished any and all opportunities to be on the diamond. He even got the opportunity to help coach a few stout South Jones Braves teams, which meant the absolute world to him — partly because it was his alma mater and partly because he got to do it with one of his closest friends in head coach Mason Strickland. The fact that the team resembled his beloved Atlanta Braves was the cherry on top.
For me, my love for baseball didn't come quite as naturally as it did for Madison. Growing up in a household where football and basketball reigned supreme, it was hard for me to reconcile a few of the issues I had with the game. I'd often share with him about how I felt that each season, and occasionally the games themselves, just seemed unnecessarily long, with a few too many breaks in the excitement along the way.
But Madison saw the game on a much deeper level than I ever have. He had an appreciation for the subtle details that made each day at the ballpark unique and the grind of a team battling it out one day at a time in a quest for its ultimate goal. Baseball is a marathon, not a sprint, and as someone who endured 17 years of all the highs and lows that come with fighting CF, I think that aspect of the game resonated more with him than most.
As I came into work Monday morning, it really hit me that I'd be preparing to cover a new season of baseball, and for the first time, the person I find most synonymous with the game won't be here to enjoy it with us. Any time I go to a park, it'll be hard not to imagine Madison standing in the corner of the dugout, quietly enjoying the game and soaking in an atmosphere that he loved like none other. But I wouldn't want to imagine things any other way.
I'm only one of many, many people who will miss Madison dearly in the days to come, but I'm one of many, many people who will feel his impact for the rest of our lives, and for that, I'm grateful. I'm glad that he gave me a greater appreciation for the beautiful game of baseball, I'm glad that he got to see his Atlanta Braves win the 2021 World Series and I'm glad that I was blessed with the privilege of being able to call him a friend.
This time around, there will be one more angel in the outfield.
Brad Crowe is sports editor of The Columbian-Progress. He may be reached at (601) 736-2611 or sports@columbianprogress.com
