'Aunt Pam is why I'm doing this': University High student creates volleyball tournament for ALS research

Nov. 21—Because it was so out of the blue, and so funny at the time (to tell you the truth), all Pam Sizemore could do was laugh.

She was strolling along the beach, which was one her favorite things to do, after she lit out for the Carolinas following her growing-up years and school years in Morgantown.

Just like that, the feet went — leaving her sprawled on the sand in a YouTube-worthy pratfall.

Sizemore wasn't a comic klutz, by any stretch.

She was a good athlete, even in those pre-Title IX days at Morgantown High, where she graduated in 1970. She was an MHS majorette and a Monongalia County Fair Queen who ran her own dance studio in the University City for a time.

North Carolina, though, was where she really made her name, as a talented teacher and volleyball coach known mainly for her work with special-needs students in her 30-year career.

It was her job as a physical education teacher to get that above population surviving and thriving — which she did — as she nudged them past the confines of their mobility issues.

She was poised in public and well in control of her limbs.

In short, she was a P.E. teacher in good physical condition herself.

That's why a random stumble couldn't help but be thought of as a slapstick anomaly.

Until it kept happening.

There were times to follow when she simply couldn't shuffle out of the way of her own feet.

And there were the other things: The ink pens she could never quite grasp ; the coffee mugs she could never quite hold.

"Something's wrong, " she said.

The diagnosis sent her sprawling again.

ALS.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

Lou Gehrig's disease.

"Aunt Pam is why I'm doing this, " her great-niece, Addison Kitzmiller said.

Blocking out for a cure Addison, a volleyball star at University High, is a study in motion and athletic prowess.

She does digs, kills and spikes, as she's always moving, always bouncing on her feet.

These days, the 16-year-old junior can add fundraising to her portfolio.

Marketing, too.

She even has her own tournament.

On Dec. 2, paired teams from the elementary, middle and high school levels will convene on the court at Rise Athletic Training, a sport complex on Mayfield Road where Addison also competes and hones her sport.

All proceeds from "Block Out ALS " will go to the ALS Association for research.

Visit Rise Athletic Training at riseathletictrainingwv.com /volleyball to learn more about the tournament founded by Addison.

You non-volleyballers can even click on this link to donate: https://donate.als.org /team /540250.

"It means everything, " Addison said.

"ALS is such a cruel disease. And there's no cure."

Shutting down Every 90 minutes, someone is diagnosed with it, and someone dies from it, the ALS Association says.

The amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, which was first discovered in 1869 by French neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot, gained an international name in 1939 by way of the aforementioned Gehrig — the beloved New York Yankee who was knocked out of Major League Baseball because of it.

He would die of it, two years later.

That's the thing, the association says. There is no cure, and it is always fatal.

It affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord.

The motor neurons that govern voluntary movement and muscle control degenerate over time.

When they eventually die off, so do their conduits to the brain. Muscles whither and patients are bent down into wheelchairs and then hospital beds.

They can't move, they can't eat and sometimes they can't breathe.

Most people are diagnosed between the ages of 40 and 70, the association says, with the average age of 55 at the initial diagnosis.

Average survival time is two to five years, the association says, although some patients can live up to 10 years or longer.

There are at least 130 people in West Virginia who have it, the association reports.

Pam Sizemore, who was 65 when she died at her home in North Carolina in 2018, dealt with it for six years, her niece and Addison's mom Amy Kitzmiller said.

'You look like a volleyball player'

Pam and Amy were especially close.

It was always this time of the year when Kitzmillers would pour into their car for a Thanksgiving road trip to North Carolina and Arden, a tiny town just outside Ashville that was home to Pam and her family.

Addison addressed her as, "Aunt Pam, " just as her mom did.

There were Tar Heels basketball games in person and Hallmark Christmas movies on TV.

And volleyball (of course).

"She got me into volleyball, " Addison remembered. "She would always say, 'You look like a volleyball player.'"

Pam's daughter, Kathryn, who is now a teacher and volleyball coach, was playing that sport in college and taught Addison some basics in the front yard during the Thanksgiving before the ALS finally claimed Pam.

"Addison was in 5th grade, " Amy said, "and she was already talking about doing something to honor her aunt."

Two years ago, her daughter started mulling in earnest about a volleyball tournament, Amy said.

"It's all her. I'm just the secretary."

"Addison's a big-hearted kid, " said Heidi Lee, who co-owns Rise Athletic Training.

"We're impressed by her and we're proud to be able to host the tournament."

"I'm impressed by Aunt Pam, " Addison said. "She never gave up."

Amy, meanwhile, still remembers one interaction that spoke to that spirit, when her aunt admitted she was getting worn down by the ALS.

"We were out and had to go up some stairs, " Amy recalled.

"She was struggling. She said, 'You know, I used to be able to dance across the floor. Now I can't even walk up the stairs.'"

Call it a reading that was more matter-of-fact than woe is me, a niece said.

It took a while, but with Amy holding onto her elbow the whole way, Pam advanced.

One step at a time.