Nathan (“Nate”) Raun was born on August 5, 1985 to Chris and Teresa Raun. 

In his short life, Nathan was a very intelligent boy, a good student, and a gifted athlete.  Until the age of twelve, he had always been very healthy.  He excelled at four key sports, and he was extremely competitive, especially with his older brother, Adam.  Though he loved many sports, his favorite was baseball.  At the age of ten, he participated in a tryout and made the Lincoln Rebels 11/12 year old select baseball team for the following year.  On that team, Nathan became a good friend to all the players.  One close friend was Joba Chamberlain. 

For the Rebels, Nate primarily split time between catching and pitching, just like Joba.  During one game, while in the dugout, he emptied a baseball bucket and placed it over his head, which earned him the nickname “Buckethead,” or “Bucket” for short.  He was a fun-loving kid.  He loved to laugh, he loved his teammates, and he brought a lot of life to the team.

In January of 1998, following the fall football and baseball seasons, Nathan was well into his winter basketball season.  He played on one of the 6th Grade St. Joseph Catholic School basketball teams.  It was during that basketball season that he began to have symptoms which led to the diagnosis of his cancerous brain tumor.  First, he experienced a slight pain in the back of his neck.  Shortly thereafter, he experienced a pain in one leg which caused a slight limp.  Then, while attending a University of Nebraska basketball game one night, he told his dad, “Dad, I can’t read the numbers on the players’ jerseys.”  That was the symptom that caused real concern.  Within two days, on January 27, 1998, an MRI revealed that Nathan had a large tumor at the very center of his head.  On that day, life in the Raun household changed forever.

Prior to brain surgery on February 5th, 1998, an oncologist at the Iowa University Medical Center told Chris and Teresa that most people with a Grade IV Glioblastoma Multiforme tumor usually live an average of ten months.  Ten months later, Nathan died.

Nathan’s illness and death became well known throughout Lincoln, Nebraska and the surrounding area.  Nathan appeared on television, and several newspaper articles were written and published by two local newspapers in the ten months between his diagnosis and his death.  Nathan’s sadness with his condition was exceeded by his love of life, his sense of humor, and his deep faith in God.  In his last six weeks of life, knowing he would die, Nathan spent much of his time with classmates, friends and neighbors.  All suffered deep sadness at the thought of his passing, but also felt tremendous peace and joy in his presence because of the way he embraced his suffering.  He always kept Jesus’ suffering continuously in mind, and he knew his own had a purpose.   Among the friends who stayed close to him while he suffered was Joba Chamberlain.

In late October, one month before his death, Nathan was given a gift of several hundred dollars by a close family friend to spend as he wished.  Nathan decided to “blow it all” on a party for his friends.  He wanted to throw a “big party.”  He wanted his friends to dance, to laugh, to eat, to drink pop, and to remember him for good times, not sadness.  So, one evening in late October, at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Lincoln, Nebraska, Nathan danced with “all the girls” in a wheelchair he had named “Midnight Love.”  Joba and his dad, Harlan, attended the party and joined in the fun.

Nathan and Joba were close.  Even though they attended different schools, their baseball friendship was strong.  Both were pitchers.  Both were catchers.  They pitched to each other.  They caught for each other.  Both were talented players, both good hitters, good fielders, and fierce competitors.  When Nathan wasn’t able to play baseball in 1998, Joba felt his pain.  No one loved baseball more than Joba and Nathan, and in the months following Nathan’s diagnosis, Joba and his dad, Harlan, stayed in close contact with Nathan to stay in touch, and to keep Nathan in touch with his Rebels team.  The Rauns credit Joba and Harlan for keeping him close to his teammates, and “in the game” until he died.
As difficult as it was for Nathan to attend a Rebels game as a spectator, he wanted to maintain contact with his teammates.  Being a Rebel meant everything to Nate.  He wanted to feel he was still a member of the team, but it hurt him deeply not to run onto the field with a glove in hand.  Early in the summer of 1998, he lost most of his eyesight from chemotherapy and radiation treatments, but in the following months until near the end, he retained hope that his eyesight would return.  His teammates struggled to find words to say to him.  Nathan knew things might never be the same as they once were, and it was a harsh reality to him.  He did his best to hide his pain.  He never wanted his friends to see him cry.  Giving up baseball was one of the hardest things for him to face:  he had a deep love for the sport, and had taken great pride in his baseball achievements.  A new Nokona glove that his dad had purchased during the previous season was his most prized possession.  

When Nathan died at 8:25 p.m. on November 25, 1998, Joba lost a close friend.  From that time forward, Joba has drawn inspiration from Nate, and has honored him in countless ways.  Inside his ball cap, he writes “Nate No. 8.”  In seasons since his Rebels playing days, Joba has worn a jersey number which, when the two digits are added together, total 8, Nathan’s number.  Joba wore number 44 at the University of Nebraska-Kearney, and 44 as a Nebraska Cornhusker.  At Class A Tampa, he wore 53.  Then, at Double-A Trenton, and as a New York Yankee, he wears number 62.  Magically, Joba never had to actually request a number that added up to 8:  they were simply assigned to him at random.  The Raun family credits divine intervention for that reality.

After Nathan died, his dad set an alarm on his watch for 8:25 p.m.  Each night at 8:25, the alarm sounds, and his dad says a prayer and talks to Nathan.  At exactly 8:25 p.m. Central Time on August 7, 2007, Joba was summoned to the mound in Toronto for the very first time to pitch relief for the New York Yankees. 

And their relationship continues.

Nathan and Joba
by Nathan's Mom, Teresa Raun

As I look back on Nathan’s and Joba’s relationship, I think the first time Nathan was drawn to Joba was as he watched Joba help his Dad Harlan. Before every game or practice, Joba would help Harlan out of the van and get settled in his motorized chair and then take his baseball gear and run off to the field.  Then at the end of the practice or game, Joba would help Harlan back into the van and put the motorized chair back in the van. Nathan admired Joba for this and I know had a greater appreciation for his healthy parents and for life in general.  I remember watching Nathan as he watched Joba with this great act of kindness toward his Dad. Nate was moved and deeply affected.  He would ask me questions about Harlan’s disability and polio.  Nathan had a big heart and was compassionate toward others.
Around the middle of the 1997 baseball season, Nathan wanted to have Joba over to our house.  He asked me on several occasions to have Joba come over. With a busy household and baseball schedules, it was hard to come up with a date.  Finally, we said yes.  Chris and Nathan drove to Joba’s home, picked him up and brought him to our house.  The boys had fun all afternoon hanging out with each other and riding our mini bike up and down our street.  They did this for hours.  I can recall many laughs and how their relationship deepened that day.
Harlan took Nate under his wing and treated him like a son.  During the baseball games, Harlan brought a cooler filled with ice water and towels.  When Joba was catching, he would make sure to cool him off on hot summer Nebraska days.  And it did get hot!  We played baseball games in 100 degree weather. Harlan would also make sure to keep Nate cooled off during his times of catching. Nathan appreciated this great act of kindness.  I certainly was not prepared in this way to help my own son and was grateful to Harlan for caring about my son.
Nathan had a reputation to be the last player out of the dugout after a game. I’m not sure why, but it took him a long time to gather his equipment and get it out of the dugout.  Joba would usually wait for Nate and maybe it was a reason he took longer because they were talking about something.  After Nathan and Joba would leave, Harlan would inspect the dugout and usually found something left behind by Nate such as a batting glove, his hat and so on.  Harlan would holler, “Hey Nate, is this yours?”  Nate would run to claim it.  Again, we were grateful to Harlan for watching out for our son.
During a baseball tournament in Grand Island, Nathan and a group of players stopped to eat before a game.  We sent Nate to Grand Island with another family and planned on arriving in time for the game.  Nathan ordered a 12” foot long sandwich and topped it with heaping jalapeño peppers.  Needless to say, by the time the game started, Nathan was starting to have a stomachache. I arrived to find him unable to play baseball, with a stomachache and he wanted to lay down in the suburban.  Joba was going to have to do extra duties during this game.  The Rebels won the game and ended up winning the tournament.  Joba never let Nathan forget about this event!
After Nathan was diagnosised with the brain tumor, Joba and Harlan were very concerned.  We received calls from Harlan when we were at the University of Iowa Medical Center, and again when we arrived home.  Harlan and Joba wanted to help out in any way possible.  We were deeply moved by their concern for Nathan.   And Nathan was deeply affected as well, and believed that he was going to get better so that he could play baseball again.
Nathan’s death deeply affected Joba.  He lost a true friend.  We admire the way Joba has carried on Nathan’s memory by wearing Nate’s number 8, writing Nathan #8 in his hat and looking for help from Nathan from Heaven.  We believe Nathan has continued to help Joba through the years and will continue to do so until they meet each other in Heaven.  By doing this, Joba has inspired others to look to Nathan for inspiration.  Friends and family who are playing sports now ask their coaches if they can wear the number 8.  Our sons, Ben, Sam and Joe wear the number 8 when playing baseball in memory of Nathan.  It is a source of courage, strength, and gratitude for the gifts we have been given, and they want to use their gifts in the best way possible.  It is how Nathan lived.

Teresa Raun has a talk that she gives about Nathan's experience. If you'd like to hear a recording of the talk click here.