Steve Nash is just the nicest guy in this league.

[Arne]

Assists go beyond court
Suns star takes sincere interest when visiting ailing children

Paul Coro
The Arizona Republic
Dec. 25, 2005 12:00 AM

The Suns were boarding the bus with the swiftness of a team that had just lost a playoff game in May, but there was one straggler.

Steve Nash, drained from scoring 35 of his 48 points in the second half, was smiling and talking with engaged interest in an American Airlines Center hall. A 9-year-old Dallas boy held his undivided attention for 15 minutes as Nash inquired about the boy's rare, aggressive form of bone cancer with the ease of a relative.

"Steve asked if he could see my incisions," said James Faulkinbury, the boy who was in the fourth quarter of 14 rounds of chemotherapy. "I was like, 'Whoa.' He kept saying, 'Whoa,' and he laughed at the one that looks like a football. advertisement

"I was surprised because none of the players stay that long. They just say hi and sign an autograph."

That ability to genuinely connect with an ailing child as well as an open shooter is Nash's gift that keeps giving. Nearly every player in the league will talk to sick children several times in their careers, but there may not be another who can assist them like Nash.

Nash has lost some young friends over the years, but Faulkinbury survived his life-threatening battle.

The ordeal began when his mother, Lisa, spotted a lump on James' ribs during a call to a nurse about possible appendicitis. It lasted one long year.

But as James defeated Ewing's sarcoma, his 15 minutes with Nash is as permanent as the photo of the two of them that is at the oncology office, chemotherapy lab, his nana's house, his refrigerator and your newspaper.

In a town that is nuts for the Mavericks, James has a poster on his wall that used to show Nash and Dirk Nowitzki together. He cut out Nowitzki.

"Getting to meet him gave me a lot more strength," said James, who received word Wednesday on another clear radiology scan after spending last year's holiday in the hospital for chemotherapy. "He took his time just to talk to me. He had to get to his plane and somebody got mad at him, but he just kept talking."

That is the essence of the most valuable person that Mavericks player relations manager Tiffany Farha saw in Nash's six seasons with Dallas.

No matter what importance a game held, Nash knew what it meant if Farha was with a child on the practice court's skywalk on a game day. Without her saying anything, he was by the child's side and down on one knee to talk to them.

"To have the gift to do it very well and have a profound impact is unique," Farha said. "When Steve is talking to you, around you or hugs you, you are the only person on the planet. His eyes don't waver from you. I don't know if there's another player in the league who does that. Not a lot of people have that gift."

Nash goes to that place where the children are comfortable. Farha remembers a child in a wheelchair who could not communicate but locked eyes with Nash. He sat down by the chair and just kept talking as if it was one of his friends.

"Did you see that game? Did you see that shot Dirk made? We had to work really hard and you're going to have to work really hard," Nash told the kid.

It is puzzling to Nash for sick children to ask for his time when their time may be fleeting. He does not believe he is any more adept at dealing with these delicate situations than the next player. Yet the feedback comes that Nash made a difference that no doctor could.

"I don't know why and maybe that's the point," Nash said. "I'm just trying to be friends with them for the few minutes we meet, try to understand what they're going through and just relate to them.

"It just makes you realize how lucky you are and how much you have to appreciate and enjoy every day. When you're not making shots and winning games, you have to realize life is pretty good."


Understanding
He was compassionate enough before becoming a father to twin girls a year ago. Now, his sympathy runs deeper in situations such as the September meeting he had with a Make-A-Wish Foundation girl in Vancouver, British Columbia, described by a representative as "incredible."

Nash met a terminally ill teenage girl. Again, a 15-minute appointment turned into 45 touching minutes. The girl's father was not allowed to attend by his boss but talked through tears to Nash on the phone about how there were no medical answers for his daughter.

"It's really difficult to put your head around," Nash said. "You have no idea what importance you could possibly have in someone's life who is fighting to survive. You just try to understand and care for them.

"We talked and shot some hoops. She told me about school. She says it in a way where she's not trying to break your heart, but she does, like, 'It's cool that sometimes people don't want to hang out with me.' "

But Nash does and will, even though he may some day hear about how she did not make it, like a few others he has met. Other than losing his two grandmothers in a month, Nash has endured no personal tragedy that can equate.

"I have to talk to Steve Nash," Farha would hear on a call. "I have to tell him how much he meant to my kid's life."

But the Faulkinburys can tell Nash about how James is well enough to walk around in the shoes Shawn Marion gave him that night and play basketball in his own shoes. Nash delights in the news of James' turnaround and laughs heartily about the edited poster in his room.

For a moment, James considers that May 15 conversation with Nash as the coolest thing that has happened in his life. But he reconsiders.

"Except for being cured from cancer," he said.

Link: http://www.azcentral.com/sports/suns...snash1225.html
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