Matt Strahm and Brandon Marsh gave a Delco family a break from ‘hell’ of cancer battle

Matt Strahm stood Friday afternoon on the dirt at Citizens Bank Park in just his sock feet.

His size-12 cleats were now laced onto Lincoln Hanson, an 8-year-old from Glenolden who was an All-Star in Little League last summer before being diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia. The kid loves the Phillies, plays first base like his favorite player, Bryce Harper, and is saving his money for a 3D printer.

He does not know that the cancer with which he was diagnosed on May 20 gives him a dire chance of survival. His parents didn’t tell him. Why would they, his dad said. If they did, the kid would spend every day thinking about it. Plus, how does a dad tell his kid that his time is limited?

“I’ve asked all my buddies how they would tell their sons,” Jay Hanson said. “I don’t have it in me. Right now, I’m guilty as charged for hiding. But he doesn’t have months. He doesn’t have years. He’s as close to terminal as you can possibly be.”

So instead they’re letting their boy enjoy moments like this: running around the warning track of Citizens Bank Park in a pair of giant cleats while the major league ballplayer walks back to the clubhouse in a pair of socks.

He gave Strahm a bright green glove to use this weekend with the kid’s name scribbled on the middle finger — “Because cancer sucks,” Lincoln said — and a bat to Brandon Marsh with his name on the barrel. Lincoln wrote his name on two pairs of cleats, so Strahm played catch in a pair and gifted them back. It was a perfect afternoon with Lincoln’s favorite team.

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“Every day is hard for me and my wife to put the brave face on, and then you have days where you don’t even want to get out of bed, but you have to,” Jay said. “What’s great is to do days like this. It breaks up the hell that you’re in as a father, and you forget about it. For most of the time I’ve been here, I’ve forgotten that he has cancer and is in deep [stuff].”

The Hansons learned in May at an oncology checkup that leukemia — which Lincoln beat as a toddler — had returned. But it was worse this time.

“The odds were not good,” said his mother, Megan Hanson, a special education teacher in Ridley.

His dad read everything he could about the disease, learning in a few weeks that his son was running out of time. He asked the doctors at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia if he was right.

“They didn’t say it out loud,” Jay Hanson said. “They wrote it down on a piece of paper. It’s tough for them, too. They’re people.”

The dad spends hours every day calling hospitals — even ones in Europe — to find a way to save his son. CHOP helped him connect with Washington University in St. Louis, where the Hansons are planning to travel this month for an experimental trial. They know the odds, but they’re still going for it.

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“I try not to do so much research and be on the phone all day that I waste away my time with him,” Jay said. “But I have to balance it out because I truly believe in the science. Now it just comes down to, ‘Do we have enough time to make it happen?’”

The glove Hanson gave to Marsh was in the colors of the HEADstrong Foundation, a nonprofit based in Delaware County that aims to improve quality of life for cancer patients and their families.

The foundation has helped the Hansons however it could — from financial resources to finding an apartment in St. Louis. The foundation’s president, Cheryl Colleluori, who lost her son to cancer, often calls Megan simply to talk. Even that helps.

“No one understands unless you’re going through it,” Megan said. “And you don’t want anyone to go through it. It’s the worst club to be a part of. She’s been there for me.”

Lincoln Hanson was in gifted programs at school before the cancer prevented him this month from starting third grade. He watches out for his 3-year-old brother, Gunnar, holds the door for others, and looks you in the eye when he shakes your hand. And when he pounds your fist, remember to explode your hand.

“Everyone who meets Lincoln loves Lincoln,” his mother said. “That’s what makes it even harder. Because he needs to be here. He’s special, and I think he could change the world. So we’re going to fight until the very end, and for the Phillies to do this gives us that extra strength.”

Strahm is a fiery competitor, often screaming into the night after locking down a crucial late-inning out. So maybe it was fitting that the kid wrote his name on the glove’s middle finger.

“I love that,” Strahm said. “That’s perfect. That’s awesome.”

The pitcher connected with the Hansons through his agent Allan Donato, who worked with Victus and Adidas to make custom equipment for Strahm. They even made Lincoln his own baseball card. Strahm, an avid card collector, asked him to sign one.

Strahm doesn’t hit, so they talked to Brandon Marsh about using a custom Victus bat. Marsh didn’t need prodding. The players spent time with the Hansons before batting practice and came back again when they were done with their pregame work.

Strahm gave the Hansons tickets to sit in the stands with his own family. Marsh asked what section they would be in and said he would point to them after getting a hit. He did so after hitting a triple.

The kid’s name on his glove was a reminder, Strahm said, of things that are bigger than baseball. Strahm gave a family from Delco a memory. He even gave them the cleats off his feet.

“You just feel so grateful,” Jay Hanson said. “It really is just great to get out of your own headspace for a day. All of these days are precious. What Matt Strahm and his family decided to do is above and beyond. He could’ve said, ‘Here you go, dude. Here’s your jersey, and we’re going to give you some tickets.’ I would’ve been thrilled. But for them to do this? To make him feel special? It’s amazing.”