Fuld Shows Heart As Legend Grows
By Dave Scheiber
Fox Sports Florida
Feb. 6, 2012
TAMPA, Fla. — They came by the carload — parents and children toting sports gear, small bags
with ever-present needles and glucose meters, and big dreams.
A thousand miles to the north, a weekend of Super Bowl-mania was reaching fever pitch in
downtown Indianapolis. But at the University of South Florida, the story was all about families
flocking to an event with far more meaning to them than the mega- hyped showdown between the New York Giants and New England Patriots.
On this weekend, it was all about Super Sam and the kids. Tampa Bay Rays outfielder Sam Fuld earned his nickname last
season with one sensational diving and leaping catch after the next, even spawning a team promotion
with a blue "Super Sam" cape giveaway.
To anyone attending his inaugural Sam Fuld Diabetes Sports Camp on Friday and Saturday —where more than 100 Tampa Bay-area youngsters refined skills in baseball, softball, basketball, football, soccer, tennis and cheerleading — he earned it all over again. But this time, for a different
reason.
Just like his high-flying defensive exploits, Fuld went above and beyond in an effort to empower
children with Type 1 diabetes, to give parents much-needed insight for helping their youngsters
cope with the disease — and provide hope for an athletic future with no barriers.
Nobody knows about that better than the 30-year-old from New Hampshire who was diagnosed
with Type 1 diabetes at age 10 but never let it hold him back. He excelled in all manner of
competitive sports, became a baseball standout (not to mention a math wiz) at Stanford University
and came to the Rays last year as part of a trade with the Chicago Cubs.
For most Tampa Bay fans, his name went largely
unnoticed in the deal that sent pitching star Matt Garza to
Chicago for five players. But all that quickly changed when
Fuld made the Rays' roster with an excellent spring
training, then he turned heads in April with his spectacular
defense and a hot bat that had him approaching .400
midway through the first month of the season — spawning
a playful catchphrase: "The Legend of Sam Fuld."
I profiled Fuld for FOX Sports Florida during that first
month and remember being struck by his candor in talking
about diabetes — how his parents did all they could to
help him face the life-changing condition head on, how he
never let it derail him from competitive sports and quickly
embraced the major changes in his daily routines, doing
his own blood pokes to test sugar levels and insulin
injections soon after his diagnosis.
He also spoke of wanting to get involved more deeply
involved in the Tampa Bay area offering help on Type 1
diabetes: It's the primarily genetic form and differs from
Type 2, which is frequently in the news with its connection to diet and obesity.
It was impossible to talk with Fuld without coming away fully impressed with his intelligence,
compassion and commitment to making a difference.
As fate would have it, he was about to make a difference in my own family.
*****
In early June, barely six weeks after my story, I had just returned from Los Angeles. I was there to
cover the Rays' trip against the Anaheim Angels and to visit the oldest of my six children.
The Thursday I got back to town, I took my wife, Janie, and our other children to dinner, making
nothing of the fact that our youngest — son, Davey, then 9 —couldn't seem to drink enough soda
and asked me to take him to the bathroom three times during the course of the meal.
That Sunday, he got sick to his stomach. After raising Davey's five older sisters (ranging in age
from 27 to 13), Janie and I have seen just about all kinds of viruses and flu strains. This looked like
your garden variety stomach bug, and we treated it overnight accordingly: no food and sporadic
sips of soda. We noticed he couldn't seem to get enough to drink yet remained extremely
dehydrated.
By morning, he was so weak he could hardly sit up and his face had become startlingly gaunt,
virtually overnight.
A harried, early morning trip to his pediatrician followed, and I carried him from the car inside the
waiting room because he was too weak to walk on his own. His physician, Dr. Alyssa Weinberger,
had been seeing a rash of stomach virus cases in recent days, but she was suspicious and ordered a
blood sugar test. When the equipment couldn't get a reading, the doctor knew what we were dealing
with — Davey's blood sugar was through the roof and we had to get to All Children's Hospital in St.
Petersburg as quickly as possible.
Once Davey was in the emergency room, hooked to a maze of tubes and monitors, the doctor on
duty confirmed my son's blood sugar was 1,062 — well beyond the 70-120 range. Davey indeed had
Type I Diabetes and spent the next full day in intensive care drifting in and out of sleep. He was
parched and famished, his voice barely audible amid the
extreme discomfort of constant shots and blood draws.
An avid Rays fan and active Little Leaguer, he didn't have
any interest in watching the Rays shut out Boston on his
hospital room TV that night.
By the next day, his numbers had begun to even out
enough that he could eat a real meal, but the gravity of
everything that had happened had left him shaken and
confused. It's not easy for a child to process such a
profound, instantaneous change almost overnight. A
specialist arrived to explain how his life would be different
now. Davey listened quietly but later refused to watch
videos on the hospital's closed-circuit TV channel
featuring children of various ages dealing with diabetes.
"I don't want to have diabetes," he said.
I remembered my interview with Fuld from barely six weeks earlier and left word with the Rays'
public relations staff to let him know about Davey.
One day later, an hour before we checked out of the hospital, the phone rang in Davey's room.
I answered and recognized the voice saying, "Is Davey there?"
I handed Davey the phone, and the change in his countenance was amazing, a mixture of surprise
and delight. He had followed the Legend of Sam Fuld as closely as anyone I knew and constantly
mimicked, on the wooden floors of our house, Fuld's diving, sliding catches.
The conversation couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but it made a world of difference to a
little boy trying to make sense of a new way of life suddenly being thrust upon him.
"Mom, Dad, it was Sam Fuld!" he reported excitedly when the call ended. "He said, 'Hang in there!'
"
I spoke briefly with Fuld before he hung up to thank him, and he extended an offer to bring Davey
to a Rays game at Tropicana Field when he was feeling up to it. Three weeks later, Janie and I did
just that. To see the way Fuld connected with a child — one about the age Fuld was when he was
diagnosed — was remarkable. And the insight he shared with Janie and I was equally valuable.
In the months that followed, Davey donned his No. 5 Fuld
T-shirt more than any other in his collection and even
adopted Fuld's batting stance. What we could see as
parents was the enormous power of a child in Davey's
situation having a role model, someone who proves that
anything is possible no matter what challenges lie ahead.
Fuld had such a player in former Boston pitcher Bill
Gullickson, who had not let Type 1 diabetes hold him back
from a successful major league career. At age 12, Fuld's
father — with the help of a mutual acquaintance — had
taken him to meet Gullickson before a game, and their
short talk had a lasting impact on the child.
Gullickson's complete willingness to offer some helpful
advice inspired Fuld and made him determined to help
others when he was in a position to do so.
Davey was the fortunate beneficiary of Fuld's mission to
make a difference in the lives of children and families
touched by diabetes.
This past weekend, his mission moved to a whole new
level.
*****
Children of all ages showed up eagerly to the non-sleepover camp to check in at USF's Muma
Center, receive an official T-shirt and get set for introductions by Fuld and Rodriguez — before
heading off for a night of bowling and pizza.
Campers with diabetes were invited to bring along a pal or sibling without diabetes to calm their
initial nerves about taking part. The move by the camp paid instant dividends — keeping the
atmosphere fun and stress-free from the outset as children raced up and down the basketball court
waiting for the event to start.
The children let out a huge cheer when Fuld was introduced, and they sat so quietly you could hear
a pin drop while he addressed them.
"Guys, thank you so much for coming out here. I can't tell you how excited I am to see all the faces
here," he began. "The first time through, I had no idea if we'd have 10 kids or 100. And I'm so
excited to be able to participate in this."
Also participating were an array of athletes who have coped with Type 1 diabetes in their own lives
— a roll call that included former tennis pros Genevieve King and Mike Findling, former Indianapolis
Colts wide receiver Stacey Simmons, ex-Nova Southeastern University basketball player Chad
Bobik, current Florida International University softball
catcher Jenny Welch and USF kicker and soccer goalie
Renato Proia. Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler, also
a Type 1 diabetic, couldn't attend, but he sent a box of
autographed items.
In addition, the support staff included Tampa Bay-areas
nurses and an arsenal of counselors from Florida
Diabetes Camps to facilitate activities and provide
immediate assistance — blood draws, shots or sugar-
boosting snacks — any camper might need.
This was especially reassuring to my wife and I, because
Davey had yet to administer his own blood draws to check
his readings with a glucose meter. We've been
encouraging him to take the big step, but he's been
reluctant to press the spring-loaded needle into his own
fingers. So we've been doing it for him four and five times
each day. We knew he'd be in great hands — many of
them — at the camp.
Meanwhile, Rodriguez, of the USF Diabetes Center, marveled at the turnout Friday night.
"When we first sat down, Sam came to visit the center and said, 'I'd really like to do something with
you guys,' " Rodriguez recounted. "We talked about different things and the idea of a camp, and I
honestly told him, 'Sam, if you just want to promote it, and put your name on it, we'd appreciate it. If
you want to become more involved, that would be terrific.' And, boy, he took it and he ran with it.
"He called anybody he could think of who was an athlete with Type 1 diabetes — or knew
somebody. And he's said he wants to continue to do this even if, God forbid, he ever gets traded to
a different team. He's going to continue to work with us."
One of the highlights was when Fuld introduced the arrival of a familiar athlete — Rays 2011 All-
Star right fielder Matt Joyce. The crowd erupted in loud cheers and applause for the Tampa native,
who'd come to lend his support to his friend.
"Matt is not diabetic, but don't hold that against him," Fuld quipped to a wave of laughter.
A brief awards ceremony followed, and autographed items from Fuld, Cutler, Rays star Ben Zobrist
and others were given away.
After Fuld offered heart-felt thank-yous, Joyce grabbed the mic and asked for a round of applause
for his Rays teammate.
"I didn't know much about diabetes until you joined the team, but I got a little snippet of what you go
through on a daily basis," Joyce said to Fuld. "It's been inspirational to us, the guys who see what
you're able to accomplish and everything you have to deal
with on and off the field. So, we're really proud of you.
This camp is a great cause, and keep it up. We love you."
Another spirited ovation followed.
As families departed, Fuld finally had a chance to catch
his breath.
"It's really gratifying," he said. "I didn't know what to
expect, any time you do something like this the first time
around. I knew that whatever the numbers were, they'd
have a good time. This weekend was the fun part — the
hard part was the coordination and setup. This part was
the icing on the cake. It's been great to see the reaction
from the kids and the parents."
Fuld said he was particularly glad for he opportunity to
connect with parents because "they're sort of the lost part
of the equation sometimes. I know my parents were
probably more nervous about my diagnosis than I was. I
don't lose sight of that, and I try to make sure I can help
out not just the kids but anybody associated with them."
His most memorable moments?
"I'll tell you, I was close to tearing up during that cheer," he said, referencing a special cheerleading
demonstration on the field by a dozen or so young girls who devised their own “Thank you, Sam!”
chant. "It was pretty cool.
"But the whole day is what I'll remember — just interacting on a one-on-one basis and seeing this
whole bleacher section filled up with everybody. This is the first time I've ever been around this
many diabetics, and it's a little overwhelming. Just to have everybody together who can share that
common bond is amazing."
Off to the side, a group of coaches — Finnegan, Ochotorena and Simmons — took it all in,
reflecting on how they learned from each other over the weekend, just as the kids were learning
and absorbing.
"The most important thing is the kids get to be around each other," Ochotorena said. "They learn
from each other, spent time around other athletes who have to go through the same things and
learn that it can be done. It can be managed. If you stay on top of it, you can do whatever you
want."
In fact, Davey did something he'd never done before.
With the encouragement of a counselor, he gave himself
his own blood poke and tested his glucose readings — the
first time ever — and proudly informed us of the feat when
we caught up with him at the end of camp.
He repeated the achievement Sunday night at home while
we watched the Giants beat the Patriots. In our book, it
was the play of the game from a Super weekend, indeed.
By Dave Scheiber
Fox Sports Florida
Feb. 6, 2012
TAMPA, Fla. — They came by the carload — parents and children toting sports gear, small bags
with ever-present needles and glucose meters, and big dreams.
A thousand miles to the north, a weekend of Super Bowl-mania was reaching fever pitch in
downtown Indianapolis. But at the University of South Florida, the story was all about families
flocking to an event with far more meaning to them than the mega- hyped showdown between the New York Giants and New England Patriots.
On this weekend, it was all about Super Sam and the kids. Tampa Bay Rays outfielder Sam Fuld earned his nickname last
season with one sensational diving and leaping catch after the next, even spawning a team promotion
with a blue "Super Sam" cape giveaway.
To anyone attending his inaugural Sam Fuld Diabetes Sports Camp on Friday and Saturday —where more than 100 Tampa Bay-area youngsters refined skills in baseball, softball, basketball, football, soccer, tennis and cheerleading — he earned it all over again. But this time, for a different
reason.
Just like his high-flying defensive exploits, Fuld went above and beyond in an effort to empower
children with Type 1 diabetes, to give parents much-needed insight for helping their youngsters
cope with the disease — and provide hope for an athletic future with no barriers.
Nobody knows about that better than the 30-year-old from New Hampshire who was diagnosed
with Type 1 diabetes at age 10 but never let it hold him back. He excelled in all manner of
competitive sports, became a baseball standout (not to mention a math wiz) at Stanford University
and came to the Rays last year as part of a trade with the Chicago Cubs.
For most Tampa Bay fans, his name went largely
unnoticed in the deal that sent pitching star Matt Garza to
Chicago for five players. But all that quickly changed when
Fuld made the Rays' roster with an excellent spring
training, then he turned heads in April with his spectacular
defense and a hot bat that had him approaching .400
midway through the first month of the season — spawning
a playful catchphrase: "The Legend of Sam Fuld."
I profiled Fuld for FOX Sports Florida during that first
month and remember being struck by his candor in talking
about diabetes — how his parents did all they could to
help him face the life-changing condition head on, how he
never let it derail him from competitive sports and quickly
embraced the major changes in his daily routines, doing
his own blood pokes to test sugar levels and insulin
injections soon after his diagnosis.
He also spoke of wanting to get involved more deeply
involved in the Tampa Bay area offering help on Type 1
diabetes: It's the primarily genetic form and differs from
Type 2, which is frequently in the news with its connection to diet and obesity.
It was impossible to talk with Fuld without coming away fully impressed with his intelligence,
compassion and commitment to making a difference.
As fate would have it, he was about to make a difference in my own family.
*****
In early June, barely six weeks after my story, I had just returned from Los Angeles. I was there to
cover the Rays' trip against the Anaheim Angels and to visit the oldest of my six children.
The Thursday I got back to town, I took my wife, Janie, and our other children to dinner, making
nothing of the fact that our youngest — son, Davey, then 9 —couldn't seem to drink enough soda
and asked me to take him to the bathroom three times during the course of the meal.
That Sunday, he got sick to his stomach. After raising Davey's five older sisters (ranging in age
from 27 to 13), Janie and I have seen just about all kinds of viruses and flu strains. This looked like
your garden variety stomach bug, and we treated it overnight accordingly: no food and sporadic
sips of soda. We noticed he couldn't seem to get enough to drink yet remained extremely
dehydrated.
By morning, he was so weak he could hardly sit up and his face had become startlingly gaunt,
virtually overnight.
A harried, early morning trip to his pediatrician followed, and I carried him from the car inside the
waiting room because he was too weak to walk on his own. His physician, Dr. Alyssa Weinberger,
had been seeing a rash of stomach virus cases in recent days, but she was suspicious and ordered a
blood sugar test. When the equipment couldn't get a reading, the doctor knew what we were dealing
with — Davey's blood sugar was through the roof and we had to get to All Children's Hospital in St.
Petersburg as quickly as possible.
Once Davey was in the emergency room, hooked to a maze of tubes and monitors, the doctor on
duty confirmed my son's blood sugar was 1,062 — well beyond the 70-120 range. Davey indeed had
Type I Diabetes and spent the next full day in intensive care drifting in and out of sleep. He was
parched and famished, his voice barely audible amid the
extreme discomfort of constant shots and blood draws.
An avid Rays fan and active Little Leaguer, he didn't have
any interest in watching the Rays shut out Boston on his
hospital room TV that night.
By the next day, his numbers had begun to even out
enough that he could eat a real meal, but the gravity of
everything that had happened had left him shaken and
confused. It's not easy for a child to process such a
profound, instantaneous change almost overnight. A
specialist arrived to explain how his life would be different
now. Davey listened quietly but later refused to watch
videos on the hospital's closed-circuit TV channel
featuring children of various ages dealing with diabetes.
"I don't want to have diabetes," he said.
I remembered my interview with Fuld from barely six weeks earlier and left word with the Rays'
public relations staff to let him know about Davey.
One day later, an hour before we checked out of the hospital, the phone rang in Davey's room.
I answered and recognized the voice saying, "Is Davey there?"
I handed Davey the phone, and the change in his countenance was amazing, a mixture of surprise
and delight. He had followed the Legend of Sam Fuld as closely as anyone I knew and constantly
mimicked, on the wooden floors of our house, Fuld's diving, sliding catches.
The conversation couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but it made a world of difference to a
little boy trying to make sense of a new way of life suddenly being thrust upon him.
"Mom, Dad, it was Sam Fuld!" he reported excitedly when the call ended. "He said, 'Hang in there!'
"
I spoke briefly with Fuld before he hung up to thank him, and he extended an offer to bring Davey
to a Rays game at Tropicana Field when he was feeling up to it. Three weeks later, Janie and I did
just that. To see the way Fuld connected with a child — one about the age Fuld was when he was
diagnosed — was remarkable. And the insight he shared with Janie and I was equally valuable.
In the months that followed, Davey donned his No. 5 Fuld
T-shirt more than any other in his collection and even
adopted Fuld's batting stance. What we could see as
parents was the enormous power of a child in Davey's
situation having a role model, someone who proves that
anything is possible no matter what challenges lie ahead.
Fuld had such a player in former Boston pitcher Bill
Gullickson, who had not let Type 1 diabetes hold him back
from a successful major league career. At age 12, Fuld's
father — with the help of a mutual acquaintance — had
taken him to meet Gullickson before a game, and their
short talk had a lasting impact on the child.
Gullickson's complete willingness to offer some helpful
advice inspired Fuld and made him determined to help
others when he was in a position to do so.
Davey was the fortunate beneficiary of Fuld's mission to
make a difference in the lives of children and families
touched by diabetes.
This past weekend, his mission moved to a whole new
level.
*****
Children of all ages showed up eagerly to the non-sleepover camp to check in at USF's Muma
Center, receive an official T-shirt and get set for introductions by Fuld and Rodriguez — before
heading off for a night of bowling and pizza.
Campers with diabetes were invited to bring along a pal or sibling without diabetes to calm their
initial nerves about taking part. The move by the camp paid instant dividends — keeping the
atmosphere fun and stress-free from the outset as children raced up and down the basketball court
waiting for the event to start.
The children let out a huge cheer when Fuld was introduced, and they sat so quietly you could hear
a pin drop while he addressed them.
"Guys, thank you so much for coming out here. I can't tell you how excited I am to see all the faces
here," he began. "The first time through, I had no idea if we'd have 10 kids or 100. And I'm so
excited to be able to participate in this."
Also participating were an array of athletes who have coped with Type 1 diabetes in their own lives
— a roll call that included former tennis pros Genevieve King and Mike Findling, former Indianapolis
Colts wide receiver Stacey Simmons, ex-Nova Southeastern University basketball player Chad
Bobik, current Florida International University softball
catcher Jenny Welch and USF kicker and soccer goalie
Renato Proia. Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler, also
a Type 1 diabetic, couldn't attend, but he sent a box of
autographed items.
In addition, the support staff included Tampa Bay-areas
nurses and an arsenal of counselors from Florida
Diabetes Camps to facilitate activities and provide
immediate assistance — blood draws, shots or sugar-
boosting snacks — any camper might need.
This was especially reassuring to my wife and I, because
Davey had yet to administer his own blood draws to check
his readings with a glucose meter. We've been
encouraging him to take the big step, but he's been
reluctant to press the spring-loaded needle into his own
fingers. So we've been doing it for him four and five times
each day. We knew he'd be in great hands — many of
them — at the camp.
Meanwhile, Rodriguez, of the USF Diabetes Center, marveled at the turnout Friday night.
"When we first sat down, Sam came to visit the center and said, 'I'd really like to do something with
you guys,' " Rodriguez recounted. "We talked about different things and the idea of a camp, and I
honestly told him, 'Sam, if you just want to promote it, and put your name on it, we'd appreciate it. If
you want to become more involved, that would be terrific.' And, boy, he took it and he ran with it.
"He called anybody he could think of who was an athlete with Type 1 diabetes — or knew
somebody. And he's said he wants to continue to do this even if, God forbid, he ever gets traded to
a different team. He's going to continue to work with us."
One of the highlights was when Fuld introduced the arrival of a familiar athlete — Rays 2011 All-
Star right fielder Matt Joyce. The crowd erupted in loud cheers and applause for the Tampa native,
who'd come to lend his support to his friend.
"Matt is not diabetic, but don't hold that against him," Fuld quipped to a wave of laughter.
A brief awards ceremony followed, and autographed items from Fuld, Cutler, Rays star Ben Zobrist
and others were given away.
After Fuld offered heart-felt thank-yous, Joyce grabbed the mic and asked for a round of applause
for his Rays teammate.
"I didn't know much about diabetes until you joined the team, but I got a little snippet of what you go
through on a daily basis," Joyce said to Fuld. "It's been inspirational to us, the guys who see what
you're able to accomplish and everything you have to deal
with on and off the field. So, we're really proud of you.
This camp is a great cause, and keep it up. We love you."
Another spirited ovation followed.
As families departed, Fuld finally had a chance to catch
his breath.
"It's really gratifying," he said. "I didn't know what to
expect, any time you do something like this the first time
around. I knew that whatever the numbers were, they'd
have a good time. This weekend was the fun part — the
hard part was the coordination and setup. This part was
the icing on the cake. It's been great to see the reaction
from the kids and the parents."
Fuld said he was particularly glad for he opportunity to
connect with parents because "they're sort of the lost part
of the equation sometimes. I know my parents were
probably more nervous about my diagnosis than I was. I
don't lose sight of that, and I try to make sure I can help
out not just the kids but anybody associated with them."
His most memorable moments?
"I'll tell you, I was close to tearing up during that cheer," he said, referencing a special cheerleading
demonstration on the field by a dozen or so young girls who devised their own “Thank you, Sam!”
chant. "It was pretty cool.
"But the whole day is what I'll remember — just interacting on a one-on-one basis and seeing this
whole bleacher section filled up with everybody. This is the first time I've ever been around this
many diabetics, and it's a little overwhelming. Just to have everybody together who can share that
common bond is amazing."
Off to the side, a group of coaches — Finnegan, Ochotorena and Simmons — took it all in,
reflecting on how they learned from each other over the weekend, just as the kids were learning
and absorbing.
"The most important thing is the kids get to be around each other," Ochotorena said. "They learn
from each other, spent time around other athletes who have to go through the same things and
learn that it can be done. It can be managed. If you stay on top of it, you can do whatever you
want."
In fact, Davey did something he'd never done before.
With the encouragement of a counselor, he gave himself
his own blood poke and tested his glucose readings — the
first time ever — and proudly informed us of the feat when
we caught up with him at the end of camp.
He repeated the achievement Sunday night at home while
we watched the Giants beat the Patriots. In our book, it
was the play of the game from a Super weekend, indeed.