C.J. Wilson understands that he is privileged to be a major league ballplayer and to have a twisted-steel body that can withstand the violent, mechanical and repetitive motion of pitching a baseball.
His left arm hurls a repertoire of low-90s fastballs and deceptive cutters, sliders and curves. His ability to coax batters into taking errant swings has elevated him to the glorious altitudes of All-Star fame and a $77.5 million, five-year deal with the Angels.
But even though he has the mound and the means to run through life at celebrated heights, Wilson wants to remain grounded.
It's a common ambition among superstars but one rarely and truly achieved without understanding that fortuitous life turns led you to one castle and that natural consequences could have easily landed you elsewhere or nowhere.
Which brings us to last Thursday, when the Newport Beach-born Wilson hosted his Throw Strikes charity bowling event at 300 in Anaheim and raised more than $20,000 for C.J. Wilson's Children's Charities, the Hematology and Oncology Clinic of Children's Hospital of Orange County and Hemostasis and Thrombosis Center at Children's Hospital Los Angeles.
For a $50 ticket -- far less than the $1,000-a-round it took to play in that morning's Albert Pujols Family Foundation Celebrity Golf Tournament at Trump National Golf Club in Rancho Palos Verdes -- you got in to bowl, get your fill of pizza, penne and Caesar salad and meet Wilson.
He invited everyone. About 400 anybodies were there: fans, children, families, Angels players and their wives, even Angels owner Arte Moreno and Angels chairman Dennis Kuhl.
Wilson, the two-time All-Star in a T-shirt and jeans, mingled all night, shaking hands, signing autographs and throwing his arm around giddy strangers for photographs.
He was, to many meeting him for the first time, surprisingly, refreshingly, cue-the-trumpets-here, "a regular guy."
This might have been breaking news to those who had preconceptions about athletes being arrogant, wedge-headed, prima donnas.
This was more eye-opening to those who've heard about Wilson's sophisticated image as a sportscar-racing, supermodel-dating, DJ-ing, world-traveling, Taoism-practicing, straight-edge-living renaissance man with intellectual pursuits that have occasionally made him the complex jigsaw-puzzle piece in a big-league clubhouse with its share of singularly baseball-focused Lego blocks.
Cut through all the mystique and you have the Wilson on display Thursday, the former Fountain Valley High, Santa Ana College and Loyola Marymount player who found stardom with the Texas Rangers and who genuinely just wanted to come home.
"It's nice to finally have our event at home because for so many years, I've felt transplanted in Texas," Wilson said. "But now that I'm here and home, everything has come full circle and I'm able to give back to where I'm from."
Wilson's desire to start his charity began with Micah Champagne, the 10-year-old boy with blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses who was jumping around in celebration of a strike on Thursday night.
They first met in a Fort Worth, Texas, hospital in 2006. Wilson was a lesser-known Rangers relief pitcher donning a Santa Claus hat for the club's holiday hospital visit.
Micah, who has severe hemophilia, Asperger's Syndrome and a growth hormone disorder, was in the hospital with a bacterial infection in his chest port. They started talking about pajamas.
"The inspiration that Micah gave to me in that moment changed me," Wilson said. "He smiled and I felt such a connection that I gave him a hug."
A year of friendship later, Wilson and Micah's father, Robert Champagne, started C.J. Wilson's Children's Charities. They hosted affordable movie nights, bowling events and "Guitar Hero" tournaments to raise money for Dallas and Fort Worth-area children's hospitals.
They donated video-game systems, games and iPads to hospital playrooms so that the young patients felt a few more comforts of home while getting treatment.
"There's a difference we can make with a little bit of love, a little bit of time and little bit of money," Wilson told those who turned out Thursday night.
"This really makes a huge difference in someone's life. I just wanted to say 'Thank you' for being here."
Angels pitchers Kevin Jepsen, Jered Weaver and Dan Haren and catcher Bobby Wilson stopped by the event and signed autographs.
"We know how fun it is for fans to get up close to the players," said Haren, who pitched the Angels to a victory the next night. "It doesn't take that much for us to just show up, help raise money for a good cause and support C.J., too."
Wilson has seen children who won't ever walk on their own, who can't grip, much less throw, a baseball the way he does. So he finds other ways in which they are special.
He knows Micah's condition won't allow him to play contact sports. So they play video games and talk baseball.
"There's an opportunity every day, not just on the holidays or high school graduation or birthdays, to look someone in the eyes, say 'You're awesome' and 'Follow your dreams,'" Wilson said.
On Thursday night, the grounded Angels All-Star was there to make everyone feel that way.
