THE PHIGHTIN' PHILS

PHILADELPHIA – Philadelphia Phillies manager Charlie Manuel can’t forget the phone call that prompted shock, worry and tears in this jolly bear of a man.

On the phone that spring day in 1998 was Melissa Martin, then Manuel’s girlfriend of three years, with sobering news : a biopsy of the lump discovered in her breast had revealed cancer.

Silence. What else was there to say? Manuel barely recalls hearing the word. "It made me sick," Manuel said. "We were crying. You ask, 'Why her?' But there's no answer. You don't know what to say and it hits you hard. It was a horrible feeling. You cry and think the worst. It brought us even closer together."

They’re still together more than a decade later, proving cancer isn’t always a death sentence. Fighting pain with love and courage helped the couple lick Martin’s distressing diagnosis, and, later, Manuel’s own battle with kidney cancer.

It wasn’t easy.

Martin's doctors initially suggested a lumpectomy and follow-up radiation. Unfortunately, more bad news came when the couple learned the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. This meant a mastectomy, performed two weeks later.

For the second time in a month, Manuel left his job as the Indians’ hitting coach in Cleveland to be with Martin in Florida. He insisted, ignoring her willingness to go it alone. He’d have none of that.

"When they explained the operation, I was scared," Manuel said. "She had to go through radiation and chemotherapy. That was really tough on her, and hard to watch."

It became tougher when Manuel suffered his second heart attack in seven years, requiring a quadruple bypass. Now undergoing treatment in Cleveland, Martin would drive to Manuel’s hospital after her chemotherapy sessions.

He occasionally tells the story of how an empty hospital bed in his room allowed Martin to lie with him. Across hospital equipment, the two held hands and hoped for healthier days.

Those days would come, but not until after Manuel’s 2000 bout with diverticulitis -- a common digestive disease often found in the large intestine – and kidney cancer that seemed minor by comparison.

"I still think about it, and make sure she has check-ups regularly," Manuel said. "I think about the fact that we had it and beat it. That was a very tough time."

As a survivor--though he prefers the words "very lucky" and "fortunate"--Manuel feels compelled to discuss his situation as often as possible. In this regard, he doesn’t mind being an inspiration.

"When you live through something like that, you need to talk about it," he said. "Maybe you were left here to help people or help an organization. There's a reason why things happen, and I've been fortunate. I'd say, Stay upbeat and very positive about things. Any way I can help someone, I'd be glad to do it."

About 1.45 million Americans will be diagnosed with cancer this year, or an average of 4,000 per day. More than half a million people die in the United States each year from some form of cancer, an average of 1,500 per day or one per minute. One in three women and one in two men will be diagnosed in their lifetimes, and strong virile men who play sports aren’t immune.

Manuel recently “welcomed” first-base coach Davey Lopes into this group. The two have long been members of baseball’s fraternity, spending a combined 85 seasons in baseball since beginning their professional careers in 1963 and 1968, respectively.

Lopes, 63, began his battle with cancer on March 17, after prostate cancer surgery. If nothing else, the insidious disease provided a wholly new perspective, beyond home runs, 0-for-4s and 557 career stolen bases, and shattered a belief that athletes are indestructible.

"When they drop that big 'C' on you, I don't know too many people who don't start thinking about things," said Lopes, whose condition was discovered during a routine physical. "It's scary. I don't care who you are, you realize how short of time you have on Earth. We take a lot for granted. I was lucky that they caught it early and cleaned me out good."