Oyster Bay's Roland keeps bouncing back

To say that Danny Roland's story is about a kid who played baseball but was told that maybe he wouldn't be able to play it well enough isn't quite right.

And to say that Roland's story is about the little brother who watched his sister die slowly after a lifelong battle against the crawl of cystic fibrosis, well, that's not the whole thing, either.

The thing about Roland, his parents, and the rest of his family right now, is that there is no well-structured story to follow. Melissa, his sister, died in January at the age of 25, three years after her failed double-lung transplant and about a year after Danny was told by Oyster Bay High School administrators that he never would be the Division I player he dreamed of being.

The D-I thing might pale in comparison, but baseball always had been a sanctuary for Roland. When he tore his ACL playing football for Oyster Bay in 2008, his plan to shift positions - from outfielder to catcher - were waylaid in a big way. So, too, were the then-junior's aspirations to become the type of player that sent scouts on the prowl.

"He had these fast twitch muscles and he's extremely coachable," said Mario Matulich, Roland's coach at Baseball Plus in Freeport. "With how powerful his short throw was, [converting him] was his best shot to move up the ladder."

Roland insists he was undaunted and, as audacious as the claim may seem, the actions that followed certainly back him up. He played a few games in 2009 and came back at full strength in 2010, where he and a handful of fellow seniors helped lead the Baymen (22-1) to the Nassau County Class B baseball championship. They play Southampton Sunday in the Class B regionals at Farmingdale State and a shot for a state title. He's a catcher, now, with quick ball transition, a cannon arm, and a great relationship with his pitching staff. He's also going to play for St. John's University - a D-I school.

Forget the intangibles, Roland has the numbers: He has a .554 average, .893 slugging percentage, 30 runs and 22 RBIs in 56 at-bats.

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It's easy to say that the Rolands, who had been through so much, got a spate of good luck. But Roland fought for it, Matulich said.

"I said, 'Look, these are all tests, Danny,'" Matulich said. "He battled through it and came back faster than anyone I know."

He trained in between helping with his sister, whose health begun to deteriorate rapidly in the latter half of 2009. After the failed transplant in 2006, Melissa learned in 2008 that hospitals wouldn't give any more transplants. Dan Roland, Sr., her father, accompanied her to Tampa, the site of the original transplant.

"We went on a long journey," Dan said. "The type of thing where you're just desperate to save your child."

After trying various avenues, the two ended up at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, where "they were so giving, they let me sleep in a cot in the hospital 60 percent of the time," Dan said.

Their stay lasted from April to September in 2009, including a six-week period in which Melissa was semi-comatose. Finally, Melissa, still effervescent and still "never complaining" went back home to die quietly.

"My son helped me zip my daughter in [the body bag] and rolled her with me," Dan said. "We're suffering pretty hard, but millions of people go through it - earthquakes, 9/11, they don't even know where their loved ones are. At least I get to see her any time I want, and so does Daniel."

The temptation to fall into depression and restlessness was there, but Danny said that his support system, including Matulich, who refused to let him let up, and his girlfriend, Jenelle Victory, helped him get by.

And then, of course, there was Melissa.

"It really took a toll on me and my motivation," Danny said. "I always took care of her, no matter what. I needed a couple weeks to understand what I needed to do to make her happy. I figured what would make her happy the most was for me to succeed in what I did every day."

He also wanted to stay closer to his family, turning down a spot at Texas' Baylor University.

With things falling into place, Dan called in a favor. He had cousins who had attended St. John's and knew members of the athletics department. Just see if someone can come down once and look at my son, Dan had pleaded. Danny already had secured an academic scholarship; a look wouldn't cost them anything.

They liked what they saw.

"I was so happy for him," his mom, Maureen said, voice saturated with emotion. "I get choked up, because he strove for it and it was not an easy task."

As for Danny, he acts as if he never had a doubt.

"It taught me a life lesson," Danny said. "I have it in me. I can take things and make it a happy thing. It always puts me in a better mood when I walk onto the field.

I did the impossible."

He also practiced what he preached. After a win against Locust Valley clinched the Nassau title, Danny said that his big strategy at the plate was to "go up smiling." Fitting for the guy who came up fighting.