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ELKHART — Morgan Weatherholt was enveloped in darkness when she regained consciousness, nothing more than a few faint outlines visible in the beams of moonlight shining through her crumpled car.
The Concord senior, an Indiana Tech softball commit, was headed home a few hours after a sectional football game at Fort Wayne North, driving along a cornfield-lined stretch of Beech Road in St. Joseph County, two miles from home, when a family of deer emerged.
Weatherholt hit the brakes and lost control of the car. The tires spun out as she hit a dirt mound on the side of the road, sending her vehicle careening past a line of pine trees before it slammed head-on into an oak tree.
The impact crushed the front of the vehicle, launched the engine into the passenger's seat and crunched the floor. There was a tree limb lodged through where the windshield was.
It was dark.
It was cold.
Just stay alive.
After successfully moving all her limbs and attempting, in vain, to turn on the overhead lights, Weatherholt tried unbuckling herself.
Rubble shredded her right hand as she dug in.
Unable to open her door, she began banging on the window with her left hand, the dull, desperate thuds cutting through the frigid early-November air. Weatherholt wasn't sure how she would have gotten out even if she broke through, but she had to do something.
So she just kept banging on the window.
"It was a fight or flight moment."
The window cracked little-by-little, but after a few minutes, the teenager paused and put her head on the seat, allowing the silence to wash over her as she contemplated her situation.
It's hard to describe, because you don't know it until you're there, Weatherholt says from the Concord press box five-and-a-half months later. She has an athletic brace around her right leg, and there are scars from the shards of glass and debris on her face and neck.
"You're losing hope, but it's a freak accident," she continues. "It was an instant. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it or not.
"It's a devastating feeling."
We gotta keep going.
As reality set in, Weatherholt noticed a ring of light beneath her. Twenty minutes had passed since she was supposed to arrive home, and her concerned boyfriend was texting to check in.
Weatherholt maneuvered underneath her seatbelt, shifting her broken and bruised body until she was able to reach her phone.
It was too dark to give 911 many details beyond the road she was on, but authorities pinged her phone and found her location.
The dispatcher stayed on the line with Weatherholt as she sat back once again and continued trying to process the night's events.
Then through the cornfield, she saw flashing lights.
Kristen and Donnie Weatherholt awoke to pounding on their front door.
Kristen, who dozed off while tracking Morgan's location on Life360, made her way to the stairs. Donnie ran directly to their daughter's bedroom and threw the door open.
She wasn't there.
From the top of the stairs they were able to see a cop standing at their front door.
"Your heart just drops," Kristen said.
Your daughter Morgan's been in a really bad accident. She's alive and she's conscious, but you need to go to Memorial Hospital immediately, because it's bad. It's really bad.
Donnie and Kristen went back upstairs to tell their son Drake, a high school freshman, his sister had been in an accident and they were leaving for the hospital, promising to call as soon as they arrived.
Once on the road to South Bend, Kristen checked the location of Morgan's phone on Life360.
Oh my gosh, she was so close to home.
Morgan likens it to being in anatomy class. "Let me go up through my body to figure out everything," she quips before listing off the injuries she sustained.
Morgan likely would have bled out internally and died within the hour if she did not find her phone.
What goes through your head as you list out those injuries?
"I think, how am I still alive?" Morgan replies with a soft smile. "I knew I wanted to stay alive, but you just — you see anyone who goes through that, you look at that list of injuries and you say, 'How is that person still alive?' It's a miracle that I'm here."
Kristen remembers the beige walls of the private waiting room inside Memorial Hospital and thinking to herself, "this is the most depressing space ever." She also recalls questioning with her husband if they were even at the right hospital. There had been no updates on Morgan's condition since their arrival and her location on Life360 had remained unchanged.
Unbeknownst to Kristen and Donnie, it took first responders 45 minutes to safely extract Morgan from the car. They had arrived well ahead of her.
After about 45 minutes, they noticed their daughter's phone was moving.
That was kind of the start of it, Kristen said. The doctor informed them Morgan had suffered "some massive injuries," but she was conscious and they were stabilizing her so they could see her.
"It's definitely unnerving. Your mind's racing every possible direction on what's going to happen, what she's going to look like," Donnie said, recalling the massive amounts of blood in his daughter's hospital room. "It's a million thoughts going through your head, (but) at the end of the day, you want her safe, you want her to be healthy. So, whatever you have to do, you have to do."
Morgan was in obvious pain, he continued, but she was communicative, telling her parents about the deer then asking them to call her friend Libby Carnall's mom to let her know what happened. They'd had a friend killed in a car crash last year and she didn't want Libby finding out from someone else.
A parade of medical professionals met with the Weatherholts over the next 30 minutes, each updating Morgan's list of injuries as they prioritized treatments. Her right leg was of particular concern with doctors having difficulty finding a pulse.
There was "a pretty good chance" they were going to have to amputate.
"We just wanted her safe. That was our priority," Kristen said. "Whatever came from there, we were going to do it."
"Morgan just kept saying, 'Don't worry, I'm OK. I'm OK.'"
Allie Moss arrived at Memorial Hospital bearing cake. But not just any cake. It was a spice cake made by Concord assistant coach Jerry Adkins' wife. She makes the best cake, explained Moss, a 2023 Concord grad and sophomore catcher/outfielder at Saint Mary's College.
It had been about a week since the crash and the treat was meant to be a much-needed pick-me-up for her former teammate, who'd recently learned the severity of her left foot injury. But Moss' arrival coincided with more bad news: Scans revealed Morgan had broken her left hand.
As her doctor explained the latest diagnosis, Morgan looked at Moss and mouthed: "Can she get out of here and let us eat our cake?"
"The look on her face was hilarious," Moss laughed. "The biggest 'RBF' I have ever seen in my life. She just wanted to eat cake, but the doctor wouldn't leave. It was very Morgan."
Cassi Reames wasn't there when Morgan learned of her broken hand, but the Concord senior infielder did receive an unexpected FaceTime from her longtime friend after she came out of surgery. The infielder wanted to let Reames know she was going to be able to catch all her bad throws thanks to her "bionic pinkie."
"It was like, yep, she's going to be just fine," Reames grinned.
Morgan doesn't remember many of those in-hospital interactions on account of the painkillers, but she's certainly heard the stories: The singing on her way back to surgery, the constant flood of visitors (so many, in fact, the hospital temporarily lifted its limit on the number of visitors at a time) and a few others that can't be printed.
Concord softball coach Brent Bardo visited the morning after the crash and, upon his arrival, his star infielder opened one eye, motioned him over and took his hands.
Save my spot. I'll be back.
"If this happened to someone else, it could really destroy them. But she won't let it beat her," Bardo said of Morgan, who spent just four-and-a-half days in the ICU and was released from the hospital about two weeks after the crash.
"She's just that kind of kid."
Morgan just wanted to be left alone.
She stood for the first time four days after surgery, a planned part of the recovery process intended to begin compressing the rod running along her right femur. It was a significant step forward just days after the crash. While it hurt so badly, Morgan couldn't wait to send the video to her family and friends.
A day later, scans revealed she had torn all the ligaments and cracked all the bones in her left foot. Morgan would be non-weight bearing for the foreseeable future and underwent surgery a month later.
Kristen and Donnie tried comforting their daughter once the doctor left her room, but Morgan pushed them away. "Seeing me beat up and asleep is one thing, but seeing me beat up and sad is another."
I just need a minute.
The Weatherholts obliged, and when they re-entered a few minutes later, Morgan was sitting up in bed with a look of renewed determination — and about nine Reese's Cup wrappers on top of the sheets.
OK, here's the new plan.
"She's pretty feisty," Donnie smiled. "I'm still so incredibly proud of her, because for a couple days there, it was just one thing after another. But (each time) she would take a moment then say, 'OK, here's the new plan.' … She wasn't going to give up. It was just going to look different."
Morgan lights up as she begins reciting her daily schedule while on the rehab floor at Memorial Hospital. It began with breakfast at 7:30 a.m., continued with various occupational, physical and recreational therapy sessions throughout the day, then concluded once visitors were allowed after 4 p.m.
Patients are given a list of tasks to complete before they can leave, Morgan explained, and hers included basic functions like chewing and swallowing — surgery to fuse her C2 and C3 vertebrae was successful, but her throat was still swollen — and daily activities like getting out of bed and using the restroom — she walked on her hands, initially, then adapted when she could no longer use her left hand.
Doctors recognized Morgan wasn't physically ready for the rehab floor (non-weight bearing on her right leg and left foot), but they knew she was mentally ready and with only 27 spots available, they didn't want her to miss the opportunity.
"I loved it," she said.
Morgan's voice softens as she recalls the final task on her list: Getting in and out of a car, first on the rehab floor, then with a family member's vehicle.
She describes climbing into the simulated car — a metal box with two seats, fake steering wheel and no windows — and the therapist shutting the door behind her.
"I was just sitting in this box and I kept it — I kept it together," Morgan says. "I get back in my wheelchair, we go to my room and I completely lose it."
It's hard to describe the feeling of sitting in a car, she continues.
"You're trapped. You can't get out. You're in pain. And you're alone."
It was dark.
It was cold.
Being in that box again, trapped — I couldn't handle it.
Morgan and her family found ways to address that trigger and other trauma associated with the crash over the following weeks. They would leave the car running and the passenger door open while stowing her wheelchair, and she takes melatonin to help her sleep at night.
It's gotten "so much better," said Morgan, who eventually told herself she couldn't be scared to get in the car again and she couldn't be scared to drive again, in the dark or otherwise.
"That's life. You have to get over it. Whether you want to or not, the world's going to turn and a new day starts tomorrow."
Morgan sat silently in the car with her mom.
They had just left Morgan's four-month appointment with Donnie.
It was a couple weeks before the start of practices, and the Indiana Tech signee was confident she'd be cleared to walk at school, to drive and to resume softball activities (she was already back throwing).
Morgan was cleared for the first two activities, but her orthopedic doctor wanted to wait another 3-4 months before clearing her to run due to her foot injury.
Just like that, Morgan's high school career was over.
I went pale. I was in shock. I was trying to hold it together.
"I was so mad," Morgan said, a slight quiver in her voice as she continued. "Sometimes when you're that upset about something, you wish there was someone to blame the situation on, so you have a reason. I didn't have a reason. … It's so hard getting over it."
The Concord senior immediately began racing through possible solutions ― a different physical therapy site, different supplements, a new specialist. What do I need to do?
"My second thought was why am I doing this?" Morgan said. "Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I waking up early twice a week and going to physical therapy, putting myself through hell and back, if I can't even play this season?"
OK, here's the new plan.
Morgan will get back to softball by practicing and hitting in the barn with her dad. She's going to get her life back by going to physical therapy.
"I'm going to start walking normally again," she says, a tone of determination in her voice. "I can walk, but I walk with a limp and we're trying to fix that by strengthening my legs and hips. And it's working. I was in a wheelchair (when I started PT). Now I'm walking without any support. It's a long road, but I know I have to get back to a normal life and softball is going to be waiting for me when I'm done."
Morgan thought about bunting, but when she looked out to the circle and saw the tears streaming down Madison Jones' face, she thought better of it. "I was a little scared she might hit me."
The idea came about during a sectional boys basketball game. Morgan was only a few days removed from learning she'd be unable to play softball and Nick Jones — Madison's father, and the assistant principal and interim athletic director at Fairfield — declared they would get her an at-bat.
"It can't be that hard," said Nick, a longtime family friend. "We'll make it happen."
Morgan — who is in the dugout for every game, running the team's GameChanger and aiding the coaching staff — knew Concord's game against Fairfield on April 3 would be special. She did not realize it was going to be such a big thing.
The bleachers were filled ahead of first pitch; the teams lined their respective baselines and there were multiple media outlets positioned on the first-base side of home plate.
Affixed to each of her teammate's shoes were (and still are) pink ribbons tied together with a gold heart, presented to them by Morgan before the season with a note that read: Take this piece of my heart onto the field with you and play your heart out like I wish I could for my senior year. I promise to be your biggest fan and supporter this season, just like you've supported me through this.
"I'm so grateful for all these people," Morgan smiled, a light shake in her voice as she continued.
"I couldn't play, but the love and support didn't stop. It just got better. … It's very inspiring what a community can do for you."
Morgan was overwhelmed with emotion as the PA announcer shared her story and, more importantly, looked to what's ahead and her commitment to Indiana Tech.
"Everyone knows it's not over. I'm still going to keep going."
Seldom one to show his emotions, Donnie's hat and sunglasses betrayed him as he watched his daughter step to the plate from the first-base coach's box. He'd been brought on as a full-time assistant coach after helping out when he could last spring. This wasn't how anyone envisioned the season would go, Morgan said, "but I'm so grateful he's still here doing it. He still has a big part in this and it means a lot to me."
Terrified of hitting her friend — and not really able to see anything through her tears — Madison Jones threw four changeups in the dirt.
After watching ball four, Morgan began making her way to first base. It was a relief, she said, a brief release from all the stress she's been under both physically and mentally. "I'm really proud of myself for getting this far. I know I have a long way to go, but it’s been a lot and I’m proud of myself for it.”
When she reached first base, Morgan Weatherholt was enveloped in her father's arms.
Donnie hugged his daughter tight. And he kept hugging her for a few seconds more.
Everything felt normal again, she smiled.
"That was one of the best hugs ever," Donnie said.
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This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Concord softball senior Morgan Weatherholt survives car crash, in recovery
Continue reading...
The Concord senior, an Indiana Tech softball commit, was headed home a few hours after a sectional football game at Fort Wayne North, driving along a cornfield-lined stretch of Beech Road in St. Joseph County, two miles from home, when a family of deer emerged.
Weatherholt hit the brakes and lost control of the car. The tires spun out as she hit a dirt mound on the side of the road, sending her vehicle careening past a line of pine trees before it slammed head-on into an oak tree.
The impact crushed the front of the vehicle, launched the engine into the passenger's seat and crunched the floor. There was a tree limb lodged through where the windshield was.
It was dark.
It was cold.
Just stay alive.
You must be registered for see images attach
After successfully moving all her limbs and attempting, in vain, to turn on the overhead lights, Weatherholt tried unbuckling herself.
Rubble shredded her right hand as she dug in.
Unable to open her door, she began banging on the window with her left hand, the dull, desperate thuds cutting through the frigid early-November air. Weatherholt wasn't sure how she would have gotten out even if she broke through, but she had to do something.
So she just kept banging on the window.
"It was a fight or flight moment."
The window cracked little-by-little, but after a few minutes, the teenager paused and put her head on the seat, allowing the silence to wash over her as she contemplated her situation.
It's hard to describe, because you don't know it until you're there, Weatherholt says from the Concord press box five-and-a-half months later. She has an athletic brace around her right leg, and there are scars from the shards of glass and debris on her face and neck.
"You're losing hope, but it's a freak accident," she continues. "It was an instant. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it or not.
"It's a devastating feeling."
We gotta keep going.
As reality set in, Weatherholt noticed a ring of light beneath her. Twenty minutes had passed since she was supposed to arrive home, and her concerned boyfriend was texting to check in.
Weatherholt maneuvered underneath her seatbelt, shifting her broken and bruised body until she was able to reach her phone.
It was too dark to give 911 many details beyond the road she was on, but authorities pinged her phone and found her location.
The dispatcher stayed on the line with Weatherholt as she sat back once again and continued trying to process the night's events.
Then through the cornfield, she saw flashing lights.
You must be registered for see images
***
Kristen and Donnie Weatherholt awoke to pounding on their front door.
Kristen, who dozed off while tracking Morgan's location on Life360, made her way to the stairs. Donnie ran directly to their daughter's bedroom and threw the door open.
She wasn't there.
From the top of the stairs they were able to see a cop standing at their front door.
"Your heart just drops," Kristen said.
Your daughter Morgan's been in a really bad accident. She's alive and she's conscious, but you need to go to Memorial Hospital immediately, because it's bad. It's really bad.
Donnie and Kristen went back upstairs to tell their son Drake, a high school freshman, his sister had been in an accident and they were leaving for the hospital, promising to call as soon as they arrived.
Once on the road to South Bend, Kristen checked the location of Morgan's phone on Life360.
Oh my gosh, she was so close to home.
***
Morgan likens it to being in anatomy class. "Let me go up through my body to figure out everything," she quips before listing off the injuries she sustained.
- Lacerated liver
- Two compound fractures in the right femur; the end pieces punctured skin
- Fractured C2 through C6 vertebrae; surgery was required to fuse the C2 and C3 which were pressing on the spinal cord
- Rib fractures. All of them
- Collapsed right lung
- Shattered and hyperextended left foot
- Broken fifth metacarpal (pinkie finger) on left hand, caused while slamming fist against window
- Forehead laceration caused by rearview mirror
- Chemical burn on face from the airbag
Morgan likely would have bled out internally and died within the hour if she did not find her phone.
What goes through your head as you list out those injuries?
"I think, how am I still alive?" Morgan replies with a soft smile. "I knew I wanted to stay alive, but you just — you see anyone who goes through that, you look at that list of injuries and you say, 'How is that person still alive?' It's a miracle that I'm here."
***
Kristen remembers the beige walls of the private waiting room inside Memorial Hospital and thinking to herself, "this is the most depressing space ever." She also recalls questioning with her husband if they were even at the right hospital. There had been no updates on Morgan's condition since their arrival and her location on Life360 had remained unchanged.
Unbeknownst to Kristen and Donnie, it took first responders 45 minutes to safely extract Morgan from the car. They had arrived well ahead of her.
After about 45 minutes, they noticed their daughter's phone was moving.
That was kind of the start of it, Kristen said. The doctor informed them Morgan had suffered "some massive injuries," but she was conscious and they were stabilizing her so they could see her.
You must be registered for see images
"It's definitely unnerving. Your mind's racing every possible direction on what's going to happen, what she's going to look like," Donnie said, recalling the massive amounts of blood in his daughter's hospital room. "It's a million thoughts going through your head, (but) at the end of the day, you want her safe, you want her to be healthy. So, whatever you have to do, you have to do."
Morgan was in obvious pain, he continued, but she was communicative, telling her parents about the deer then asking them to call her friend Libby Carnall's mom to let her know what happened. They'd had a friend killed in a car crash last year and she didn't want Libby finding out from someone else.
A parade of medical professionals met with the Weatherholts over the next 30 minutes, each updating Morgan's list of injuries as they prioritized treatments. Her right leg was of particular concern with doctors having difficulty finding a pulse.
There was "a pretty good chance" they were going to have to amputate.
"We just wanted her safe. That was our priority," Kristen said. "Whatever came from there, we were going to do it."
"Morgan just kept saying, 'Don't worry, I'm OK. I'm OK.'"
***
Allie Moss arrived at Memorial Hospital bearing cake. But not just any cake. It was a spice cake made by Concord assistant coach Jerry Adkins' wife. She makes the best cake, explained Moss, a 2023 Concord grad and sophomore catcher/outfielder at Saint Mary's College.
It had been about a week since the crash and the treat was meant to be a much-needed pick-me-up for her former teammate, who'd recently learned the severity of her left foot injury. But Moss' arrival coincided with more bad news: Scans revealed Morgan had broken her left hand.
As her doctor explained the latest diagnosis, Morgan looked at Moss and mouthed: "Can she get out of here and let us eat our cake?"
"The look on her face was hilarious," Moss laughed. "The biggest 'RBF' I have ever seen in my life. She just wanted to eat cake, but the doctor wouldn't leave. It was very Morgan."
You must be registered for see images
Cassi Reames wasn't there when Morgan learned of her broken hand, but the Concord senior infielder did receive an unexpected FaceTime from her longtime friend after she came out of surgery. The infielder wanted to let Reames know she was going to be able to catch all her bad throws thanks to her "bionic pinkie."
"It was like, yep, she's going to be just fine," Reames grinned.
Morgan doesn't remember many of those in-hospital interactions on account of the painkillers, but she's certainly heard the stories: The singing on her way back to surgery, the constant flood of visitors (so many, in fact, the hospital temporarily lifted its limit on the number of visitors at a time) and a few others that can't be printed.
Concord softball coach Brent Bardo visited the morning after the crash and, upon his arrival, his star infielder opened one eye, motioned him over and took his hands.
Save my spot. I'll be back.
"If this happened to someone else, it could really destroy them. But she won't let it beat her," Bardo said of Morgan, who spent just four-and-a-half days in the ICU and was released from the hospital about two weeks after the crash.
"She's just that kind of kid."
***
Morgan just wanted to be left alone.
She stood for the first time four days after surgery, a planned part of the recovery process intended to begin compressing the rod running along her right femur. It was a significant step forward just days after the crash. While it hurt so badly, Morgan couldn't wait to send the video to her family and friends.
A day later, scans revealed she had torn all the ligaments and cracked all the bones in her left foot. Morgan would be non-weight bearing for the foreseeable future and underwent surgery a month later.
Kristen and Donnie tried comforting their daughter once the doctor left her room, but Morgan pushed them away. "Seeing me beat up and asleep is one thing, but seeing me beat up and sad is another."
I just need a minute.
The Weatherholts obliged, and when they re-entered a few minutes later, Morgan was sitting up in bed with a look of renewed determination — and about nine Reese's Cup wrappers on top of the sheets.
OK, here's the new plan.
"She's pretty feisty," Donnie smiled. "I'm still so incredibly proud of her, because for a couple days there, it was just one thing after another. But (each time) she would take a moment then say, 'OK, here's the new plan.' … She wasn't going to give up. It was just going to look different."
***
Morgan lights up as she begins reciting her daily schedule while on the rehab floor at Memorial Hospital. It began with breakfast at 7:30 a.m., continued with various occupational, physical and recreational therapy sessions throughout the day, then concluded once visitors were allowed after 4 p.m.
Patients are given a list of tasks to complete before they can leave, Morgan explained, and hers included basic functions like chewing and swallowing — surgery to fuse her C2 and C3 vertebrae was successful, but her throat was still swollen — and daily activities like getting out of bed and using the restroom — she walked on her hands, initially, then adapted when she could no longer use her left hand.
You must be registered for see images attach
Doctors recognized Morgan wasn't physically ready for the rehab floor (non-weight bearing on her right leg and left foot), but they knew she was mentally ready and with only 27 spots available, they didn't want her to miss the opportunity.
"I loved it," she said.
Morgan's voice softens as she recalls the final task on her list: Getting in and out of a car, first on the rehab floor, then with a family member's vehicle.
She describes climbing into the simulated car — a metal box with two seats, fake steering wheel and no windows — and the therapist shutting the door behind her.
"I was just sitting in this box and I kept it — I kept it together," Morgan says. "I get back in my wheelchair, we go to my room and I completely lose it."
It's hard to describe the feeling of sitting in a car, she continues.
"You're trapped. You can't get out. You're in pain. And you're alone."
It was dark.
It was cold.
Being in that box again, trapped — I couldn't handle it.
Morgan and her family found ways to address that trigger and other trauma associated with the crash over the following weeks. They would leave the car running and the passenger door open while stowing her wheelchair, and she takes melatonin to help her sleep at night.
It's gotten "so much better," said Morgan, who eventually told herself she couldn't be scared to get in the car again and she couldn't be scared to drive again, in the dark or otherwise.
"That's life. You have to get over it. Whether you want to or not, the world's going to turn and a new day starts tomorrow."
***
Morgan sat silently in the car with her mom.
They had just left Morgan's four-month appointment with Donnie.
It was a couple weeks before the start of practices, and the Indiana Tech signee was confident she'd be cleared to walk at school, to drive and to resume softball activities (she was already back throwing).
Morgan was cleared for the first two activities, but her orthopedic doctor wanted to wait another 3-4 months before clearing her to run due to her foot injury.
Just like that, Morgan's high school career was over.
I went pale. I was in shock. I was trying to hold it together.
"I was so mad," Morgan said, a slight quiver in her voice as she continued. "Sometimes when you're that upset about something, you wish there was someone to blame the situation on, so you have a reason. I didn't have a reason. … It's so hard getting over it."
The Concord senior immediately began racing through possible solutions ― a different physical therapy site, different supplements, a new specialist. What do I need to do?
"My second thought was why am I doing this?" Morgan said. "Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I waking up early twice a week and going to physical therapy, putting myself through hell and back, if I can't even play this season?"
OK, here's the new plan.
You must be registered for see images
Morgan will get back to softball by practicing and hitting in the barn with her dad. She's going to get her life back by going to physical therapy.
"I'm going to start walking normally again," she says, a tone of determination in her voice. "I can walk, but I walk with a limp and we're trying to fix that by strengthening my legs and hips. And it's working. I was in a wheelchair (when I started PT). Now I'm walking without any support. It's a long road, but I know I have to get back to a normal life and softball is going to be waiting for me when I'm done."
***
Morgan thought about bunting, but when she looked out to the circle and saw the tears streaming down Madison Jones' face, she thought better of it. "I was a little scared she might hit me."
The idea came about during a sectional boys basketball game. Morgan was only a few days removed from learning she'd be unable to play softball and Nick Jones — Madison's father, and the assistant principal and interim athletic director at Fairfield — declared they would get her an at-bat.
"It can't be that hard," said Nick, a longtime family friend. "We'll make it happen."
Morgan — who is in the dugout for every game, running the team's GameChanger and aiding the coaching staff — knew Concord's game against Fairfield on April 3 would be special. She did not realize it was going to be such a big thing.
The bleachers were filled ahead of first pitch; the teams lined their respective baselines and there were multiple media outlets positioned on the first-base side of home plate.
Affixed to each of her teammate's shoes were (and still are) pink ribbons tied together with a gold heart, presented to them by Morgan before the season with a note that read: Take this piece of my heart onto the field with you and play your heart out like I wish I could for my senior year. I promise to be your biggest fan and supporter this season, just like you've supported me through this.
You must be registered for see images attach
"I'm so grateful for all these people," Morgan smiled, a light shake in her voice as she continued.
"I couldn't play, but the love and support didn't stop. It just got better. … It's very inspiring what a community can do for you."
Morgan was overwhelmed with emotion as the PA announcer shared her story and, more importantly, looked to what's ahead and her commitment to Indiana Tech.
"Everyone knows it's not over. I'm still going to keep going."
Seldom one to show his emotions, Donnie's hat and sunglasses betrayed him as he watched his daughter step to the plate from the first-base coach's box. He'd been brought on as a full-time assistant coach after helping out when he could last spring. This wasn't how anyone envisioned the season would go, Morgan said, "but I'm so grateful he's still here doing it. He still has a big part in this and it means a lot to me."
Terrified of hitting her friend — and not really able to see anything through her tears — Madison Jones threw four changeups in the dirt.
After watching ball four, Morgan began making her way to first base. It was a relief, she said, a brief release from all the stress she's been under both physically and mentally. "I'm really proud of myself for getting this far. I know I have a long way to go, but it’s been a lot and I’m proud of myself for it.”
When she reached first base, Morgan Weatherholt was enveloped in her father's arms.
Donnie hugged his daughter tight. And he kept hugging her for a few seconds more.
Everything felt normal again, she smiled.
"That was one of the best hugs ever," Donnie said.
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This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Concord softball senior Morgan Weatherholt survives car crash, in recovery
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