Carey Winkler cried the first time she stumbled onto the Homer's Heroes.

"Oh my god, Grant could play baseball and his brothers could watch him, too," she recalled saying through her tears.

Grant was 2 then, the youngest of three sons, and the Winklers were still adjusting to the life changes that come with a child with multiple disabilities.

"I was so shocked, and so grateful, that there was something he was going to be able to do that other kids do," Winkler said.

Now 6, Grant is one of 96 players in a Junior Saltdogs league sponsored by the Optimist Clubs of Lincoln - and his mother can see progress.

"I couldn't believe he kept his helmet on," she says Saturday morning as she watches him play. "And he threw the ball in the right direction."

Four teams of kids 5 to 18, all with some type of developmental or mental disability, take over the Lewis Fields diamonds across from Lincoln High School at 9:30 a.m.

Players, buddies, coaches, families and friends swap competition for collaboration, contention for compassion.

Every kid touches a ball in every play.

Every kid gets a base hit or a home run.

"For some reason, no kid gets out," Optimist Tom Shriner says with a smile. "We haven't figured that out. They're just that good."

The league started in 1992 with barely enough players for one field, said Optimist Jeanne Cuda. The kids play for six weeks beginning in June. They play one of the games at Haymarket Park with the Salt Dogs.

Every player has a volunteer buddy, to help hit, run bases, push wheelchairs, sometimes just to stand on the field.

Christopher Bruner, 15, was once a player. Now he's traded his bat and ball for a buddy.

On Saturday, he teams up with Brittany Ivey, 7, who introduces herself as Lulu Kennedy, a nickname from her grandpa.

She seems nonchalant, trailing Christopher off the field after a scored run. She's more interested in talking about red Popsicles.

But Winkler says Brittany, who is friends with Grant, couldn't stop talking about baseball for a month before the season started.

The oldest kids take the game more seriously, practicing their swings on deck, hitting the ball with enthusiasm.

"It's setting up perfectly," a buddy tells his player. "The bases are loaded."

Pitcher Tony Kemna chats with the batter.

"Oh, it's your last week? I wish I had a cake or something," he teases. "Instead, I just have to strike you out."

Judy Reynolds says her daughter Tia, 16, lives for the games, and is already sad she can participate for only two more years.

The players get medals every week, and Tia's hang in a row across a bedroom wall.

She's saved all the T-shirts since Tia was 5 or 6. At that age, she wore braces on her legs and could hardly walk.

They just found out, her mother says, that the kids get to play in the Cornhusker State Games this summer.

"This is the coolest program ever," Judy Reynolds says.

As she's talking, Paul Safarik hits the ball behind her and takes off running. His buddy, Nancy Coffman, who is legally blind, takes off after him.

At the end of the game on Field 1, Kota Martin, 6, comes off the field in his green walker to greet his cheering section.

His grandparents, Joyce and Geno Zeorian, have come 160 miles with a friend to watch the game.

He doesn't know, his grandmother whispers, "we brought trophies and medals to give him after the game."

Kota transfers from walker to wheelchair, and gets a hug from his twin sister, Skyler.

"Did you guys watch my game," he asks. "Did you see me run?"

Reach JoAnne Young at 473-7228 or jyoung@journalstar.com.