So there was this kid, the hardest-working, most physically fit player Dave Potter had ever coached. No, really. Couldn't slow him with a net. The kid's energy would make the Tazmanian Devil dizzy, exhaust the Energizer Bunny.
"I'll prove it," says Potter, the former South Medford High boys soccer coach, heading off the suspicion of hyperbole.
He told of a training session so rigorous, his players were thoroughly spent afterward. The coach called it "maximum fitness training," a euphemism, no doubt, for boot camp. Even the fit kid was fatigued, which was a rare sight. Potter pulled him aside and asked him to quit working out so hard on his own. The coach worried that weariness could lead to injury.
"He was thinking about it," says Potter. "I could tell."
When the coach got home, he called the fit kid's parents in the hope they'd support his edict.
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"Well, Dave," she said, after hearing why he called, "he's out running now."
The coach, who had just put the fit kid through the ringer, threw his hands up in exasperation.
"I gave up. Right there. I just gave up," he says.
No one figured the fit kid would ever slow down.
But then, no one figured this kid of gifts galore, of possibility and promise, would contract a disabling disease that robs its victims of mental acuity and motor function. It prompts an irreversible, heinous regression of all that has developed. There is no cure, and it is most often fatal in boys and young men.
Pat Lower has it.
Pat Lower has slowed down.
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He wasn't supposed to get adrenoleukodystrophy, or ALD, a rare genetic disorder that victimizes 1 in 100,000 people and was introduced to the public by the 1992 movie, "Lorenzo's Oil."
Pat, now 22, was an honor student and three-sport athlete at South Medford High who earned a soccer scholarship to St. Mary's College, an NCAA Division I program in Moraga, Calif. He received honorable mention in West Coast Conference all-star voting after leading the Gaels in scoring as a freshman in 2002 and was named a team captain as a sophomore.
But it was during that fall three years ago when things began to change. He became forgetful, struggled in school and wasn't able to keep up on the soccer pitch, tiring easily where once he was the rabbit others chased.
He fought through it to the end of the season, reduced to part-time status and baffled by what was happening. He then returned to his parents' Jacksonville home in January 2004, intent on getting better and going back to school and soccer.
That won't happen.
Pat went through extensive testing, and the family was told his condition could be the result of a number of things: depression, mental illness, drugs, head trauma from hitting a soccer ball, you name it.
At one point, Marilyn Lower peered over the shoulder of a technician and saw the acronym "ALD."
She and Pat's older sister, Laurel, researched it and were horrified at what they learned.
"The more we read," says Laurel, 26, "it was like, God, I hope he doesn't have that."
Four weeks later, in July 2004, a blood test came back from the Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore, where Dr. Hugo Moser, who was featured in "Lorenzo's Oil," practices. It was positive for ALD.
For a year, the family had been in the dark.
"So finally, in a way it was a relief," says Marilyn. "Oh, you know, bingo! But then, you know, it was probably one of the worst moments."
The gravity of Pat's condition hit home. Boys with the disease experience an excruciating death within only a few years. Sometimes it differs in adults and they survive longer, other times not. In young men, the legs are most often debilitated first as the mind holds steady. In Pat's case, he remains active, which has surprised doctors, but his diminished cognitive skills are troubling.
In academic testing, he scores at the fourth-grade level.
After Pat was found to have the adult version of ALD, adrenolmyeloneuropathy (AMN), the rest of the family was tested. It was revealed that Marilyn, who has been treated for multiple sclerosis for 15 years and is in a wheelchair, is actually a carrier of ALD and exhibits symptoms of it, including loss of muscle strength. Her 79-year-old mother is a carrier as well but doesn't show the symptoms.
The news was hard.
When word spread of Pat's condition, the family was reluctant to have it reported. There was little known about the disease, and Pat's behavior had turned erratic, making the Lowers uncertain of how he would react to a story.
"I think we've gone through all the stages," says Marilyn. "Now, we're pretty much at the accepting stage, and it's, 'What can I do.'"
She had to work through other feelings to get to that point.
"Basically," says Marilyn, "I felt very guilty, yeah. Now I'm campaigning. That's what I can do. I can't do anything about my genetics."
They are raising funds for the United Leukodystrophy Foundation.
Even Pat's in on it and tells of receiving a check for $100 the other day from a couple that run a Jacksonville restaurant.
Pat's gait is deliberate, his speech is measured and his weight is down 40 pounds, but he pursues activities as best he can. He walks his new chow on the family's 10-acre property, where he and his father also pan for gold. He swims and lifts weights at the YMCA with his mother, attends yoga classes, gets massages and occasionally hits the driving range. Every now and then, he'll even juggle a soccer ball.
But these things aren't done with the precision and skill of a short time ago. Except for long-term, his memory is impaired and his attention span short.
He tells how he used to a keep a journal in which he penned things he wanted to accomplish. His drive astonished even his mother, who wondered how one could possibly motivate a child who already was so proactive.
"I used to have a journal," Pat says. "I used to be able to put my ... reach my goals a lot. Now I don't really have to do that as much."
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Those who have worked closely with Pat won't soon forget him. He has a special place in the hearts of former coaches and teammates.
Potter could tell enough stories to fill volumes, and they are as clear as if they happened yesterday. Like the first time the coach crossed paths with the player, then a 10-year-old who was attending Potter's youth soccer camp for the third straight year. There were a lot of campers, and Potter divvied up players to go with various coaches. Young Pat had never been in Potter's group, and he was passed over again.
Marilyn Lower was compelled say something. She told Potter how loyal her son was to his camp, how he had his heart set on being under the head coach's tutelage and that Potter should switch coaching assignments. He agreed.
"I fell in love with the kid right there," he says.
When Pat got to high school, he distinguished himself as the first freshman to make varsity for Potter and remains one of only two to have done so.
He was immediately accepted, too, as evidenced by the first game of 1998 against Bend.
"By the middle of the second half," says Potter, whose team was the defending state champion, "the seniors were coming up to me and saying, 'Dave, how do we work him in. We've got to get him in the game earlier.'
"What they were saying is, put him in and bench an upperclassman, one of their buddies. They saw talent and opportunity in this young man."
Indeed, Lower scored the team's only goal in a 2-1 loss.
Pat had drive on the field and off. At the team's traditional spaghetti feeds prior to games, while other players jockeyed for the dessert tray or played video games, Pat sat cross-legged in a chair with an open algebra or calculus or chemistry book.
"It just blew me away," says Potter.
Perhaps his fondest memory is of an incident after a game.
One of South Medford's players was repeatedly whistled for being offsides, thereby ruining scoring opportunities. At the behest of some players, Potter at halftime declared that anyone offsides must do 50 push-ups for each infraction.
"Lo and behold, the boy in question had two more. Right after the game, Potter, feeling a sense of responsibility, told the youngster, "You and me, right here. One hundred push-ups."
The Panther players were aghast to see Potter carrying it through.
The coach and player dropped to the ground to do them in increments of 50.
"Out of my right ear," says Potter, "I hear some gentle grunts coming from the other side of the bench, and there's Patrick doing the push-ups. We got to 50 and I said, 'Lower, what are you doing?' He said, 'If you guys have to do them, I have to do them.'
"That was the team player in this kid. His heart was all about the team. Boy, if you think I wasn't moved ... That is Patrick Lower."
The Panthers made the state playoffs each of Pat's four seasons, advancing as far as the state semifinals in 1999. As a senior in 2001, he left the program as a two-time first-team all-Southern Oregon Conference forward.
And each of Potter's ensuing teams have heard stories about his work ethic and character.
"I used him as an inspiration," says Potter.
In Potter's final year at South Medford and in light of Pat's condition, he dedicated the season to his former player. T-shirts that read "Play Like Pat" were distributed to team members, and they wore them throughout the year. At the year-end awards ceremony, Pat was brought to the podium and introduced.
When he looked at the audience, he saw the players standing and clapping, wearing the T-shirts in his honor.
Pat remembers the moment.
"I saw the shirts and everything," he says. "I was pretty surprised. It was cool they did that."
Potter still has some of the shirts. He will always have them.
"They mean so much to me," he says.
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Pat's career at St. Mary's was too short, but he still made an impact.
He was the very first recruit of then-coach Steve Rammel and assistant Adam Cooper. Cooper took over when Rammel left the program last year to join the staff of the Los Angeles Galaxy of Major League Soccer.
"He was the very first recruit to commit to us," says Cooper, who continues to have contact with the Lowers. "He's a special player in our hearts for that reason."
Like Potter, Cooper marveled at Pat's willingness to work and his ability as a striker. In his sophomore season, however, the disease began to rear itself.
Pat tired quickly in practice and games, which confounded the coaches. As doctors would later do, Cooper went through a laundry list of possible causes. He didn't, however, consider drugs or alcohol because that wasn't in keeping with Pat's character. Still, the coach was stumped.
"He came off the field a couple times and literally almost didn't know where he was," says Cooper. "He was so exhausted, so tired. He sat on the bench as if he played a full game and then some when he only played 20 or 25 minutes."
Other incidents were equally alarming.
Pat recalls missing a match as he sat home and watched TV. He didn't learn about it until a teammate told him.
Another time, he missed a team meeting.
This from a young man worthy of team captainship.
At one point, Laurel Lower sat in as her brother gave a presentation in his speech and debate class. The topic was "Perseverance." He'd spent a week memorizing the speech, but in front of the class, he stumbled through it, forgot half of it, and returned to his seat, his head bowed as classmates snickered.
"My second year," Pat says now, "a lot of people asked me what happened to me and things like that. My grades were probably the worst they'd ever been, too. About 2003 I kind of peaked. After that year, I kind of knew I was done for."
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Back home in January 2004, Pat underwent extensive testing. He was diagnosed locally with Addison's disease, which occurs when the adrenal glands don't produce enough cortisol. ALD damages the adrenal glands and therefore can begin as Addison's.
Addison's is treatable, and the Lowers were hopeful Pat would resume a normal life. Instead, his condition worsened, manifested by erratic, sometimes bizarre behavior. He lost weight and was often frustrated and angry.
He burned all his soccer clothes and threw away his trophies and photos. In town, the family sometimes lost track of him.
"There was just tons of chaos," says Laurel.
One time, he bolted from testing at the hospital, ran through offices, out the door and around the grounds.
"No one could catch him," says Marilyn.
Then he leapt over a hedge and karate chopped a man clearing leaves with a blower. The police were called and Pat was arrested. When his condition was explained, charges were dropped.
He was put on antipsychotic medication, which left him dazed and "out of it," says his mom.
He was taken off it in April and now is far more interactive.
For how long, no one is certain.
"Here's a brilliant young man," says Potter, "a gifted athlete, a gifted student, whose body and mind are going backwards. It's a cruel disease ... God's got a special plan for him. He chose Patrick early to go in a certain direction. Our hearts are out there with him, and a day doesn't pass that I don't think about Patrick."
The Lowers, who long enjoyed a blissful, "Leave-It-To-Beaver"-type existence, says Laurel, have since come to wonder, "Why us."
"Sure, sure," says Marilyn. "But what I have learned, and this is very helpful, is that it's life. There's ups, there's downs, it's life. You know, if it wasn't us, it would have been somebody else."
Somebody, perhaps, less able to fight it than the fit kid.
Reach sports editor Tim Trower at 776-4479, or e-mail ttrower@mailtribune.com.
