Last summer, for the first time in 27 years, Mike Witherwax was not in South Williamsport, Pa., for the Little League World Series.

Call it an excused absence. If any Little League official had a legitimate reason not to attend the sport’s signature event, it was Witherwax, the longtime Southwestern Regional director.

In November 2009, life served up the nastiest curveball in its arsenal. Doctors delivered Witherwax a diagnosis that would buckle the knees of even the grittiest of army veterans, of which he is one.

Pancreatic cancer.

“I’d heard a few things about pancreatic cancer, and never anything good,” Witherwax said. “Initially, I was taken aback. But then I thought, ‘OK, what do I do now?’  ”

His first thought? Call your loved ones. You need their support, and they need to know.

“I talked to my children, and my daughter was very sympathetic, very concerned,” Witherwax said. “My son was concerned too, but he’s a high school football coach, and he was like, ‘OK, we’re going to fight this, and I’m going to be the bull moose out in front.’ ”

So, much like his old umpiring days, Witherwax, 64, hunkered down and prepared for the long haul.

He spent the following April and May at M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, enduring rigorous, energy-sapping chemotherapy treatments. Between the cancer and the chemo, Witherwax shed 110 pounds, spotting numbers on the scale he hadn’t seen in 40 years.

“That’s not the way you want to lose weight,” he said.

Finding support

But somewhere between the pain, the fear, the fatigue and the weight loss, Witherwax discovered something. The man who for decades had overseen the comings and goings of baseball and softball teams in seven states suddenly found himself with a set of teammates of his own.

His family was there every step of the way. He also found support from his friends, his church, his Little League colleagues.

Even the occasional perfect stranger.

“I’ll never forget being in Houston, getting ready for a CT scan, and this man was sitting there and he asked me what I had. I told him and he said, ‘Young man, you’re going to whip this thing,’ ” Witherwax said. “I don’t think he was that much older than me, but I liked being ‘young man.’ ”

As it turned out, his new buddy was a wise prognosticator. Witherwax whipped the cancer, all right. He whipped it good.

In July 2010, he went through surgery to remove any cancer cells not already destroyed by the chemotherapy. The surgery was a success, and every subsequent doctor’s visit since has revealed the same diagnosis. Witherwax is cancer-free.

In the weeks after his surgery, Witherwax managed to get out and attend a few games at last year’s regional tournament, but he wasn’t anywhere close to normal speed, still in the post-surgery recovery stages. That prevented him from making his normal pilgrimage to Williamsport, too.

What a difference a year makes. He’s packed on about 18 pounds of the weight he lost and his doctor wouldn’t mind him gaining 10 more, though Witherwax is fighting that prescription.

Moreover, he has gained a new appreciation for life. How could he not?

“After facing cancer, different things that were so important to me before aren’t nearly as important now,” he said. “Now, I deal with them, but I’m not going to get too riled over them.”

Witherwax has learned to savor every moment with his loved ones, particularly his grandkids, whom he called “my world.”

And as he sits from his perch in the Norcross Stadium press box and watches tonight’s nationally televised regional championship game — his region’s showcase undertaking — he’ll bask in the sights and sounds of the game, as always. But he knows it’s just a game — one he loves, a game he’s worked a lifetime to preserve and promote — but a game nonetheless.

That’s why when he travels later this month to start a new Little League World Series attendance streak, he’s not going for the games. They’re secondary.

Rather, Witherwax is looking forward to seeing his friends. He can’t wait to thank so many of them who provided prayer and encouragement just when he needed it most.

“Williamsport is a great experience, a tremendous place,” he said. “But what makes it important are the people.”

And that’s how you knock life’s nastiest curveball out of the park.

bcherry@wacotrib.com

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