Nurse Roberts flew in just to see the miracle in high-tops. Once the game started, she couldn't stop crying. Steve's mom wasn't crying, though. "I was so scared, I was paralyzed," she says.
Steve can go for stretches of only 90 seconds, but in those 90 seconds he's not bad. And when he canned a three-pointer for his first basket of the night, he buried more than the bucket. He buried the rule book for heart-transplant recipients everywhere.
"We were just hoping to get him back to school," Roberts says. "He's awe-inspiring."
Steve still knows nothing about the boy who saved his life. One year after the transplant, though, he was allowed to send a letter of thanks to the family.
"You cannot imagine the things I am doing," he wrote. So far, they haven't responded. Of course, that's probably the hard part--imagining the life somebody else's son began because your son's ended.
Anyway, now you know why Steve Ketcham's Christmas list is so short.
"Somebody already gave me the best gift of all."
If you have a comment for Rick Reilly, send it to email@example.com