Hero, there and everywhere

A blogger named divineswine (click here) says Lester is not heroic because -- and this is really putting too fine a point on it -- his cancer is a form of lymphoma that is eminently treatable.

Then divineswine trots out the usual argument against calling any athlete heroic: "Let's save the word 'heroic' for the firefighters who pull people out of burning buildings, for the troops who risk their lives daily in a country for people they don't even know, for the parents of kids with severe disabilities who sacrifice everything for their children, and for the Tibetans who continue despite being repressed to great lengths. Those people risk their lives and their health for a greater good. That's as good a definition of heroic as I know. Pitching a no-hitter -- cancer survivor or not -- does not qualify for 'heroic' status."

Somewhere in all this, divineswine might have a good point: In the ninth inning of that no-hitter, Lester's emotions, his courage, his character were tested no more than any non-cancer survivor's. Probably less, since Lester knew there are worse things than giving up a bloop hit.

To me, though, there's a larger point: Especially since 9/11, people have been too reluctant to use "hero" for anybody except firefighters, police officers, military troops, and so forth. As a result, one of our most uplifting words has been a prisoner of disaster, tragedy, misery, etc.

It's time "hero" becomes a happy word again, associated with fun things. So if somebody, a Red Sox fan or someone who feels the pitcher's life story deeply, wants to call him a hero, that's better than rooting around for reasons not to. I didn't write that Jon Lester is a no-hit hero, but the more I think about it the more I wish I did.