I was 30 miles away when the hospital called—Sandy was in labor. Desperate, I flagged down a car in the pouring rain. The driver pulled over, glanced at my Riverside Hawks jacket, and kicked me out. “I don’t drive Hawks fans,” he spat. Stranded, drenched, and panicked, I thought I’d never make it.

Walking along the highway, I tried calling taxis with no luck. Then I heard brakes squeal behind me. The driver had collapsed, foaming at the mouth, seizing in the storm. Instinct took over—I ran, checked his airway, turned him on his side, and waited until he stopped convulsing.

The keys were in the ignition. I could’ve left him, but I didn’t. I drove him to the nearest hospital, Millbrook Community, instead of rushing to Riverside. The ER staff took over instantly, saving his life. “You acted fast,” the doctor said. I barely heard him; all I could think about was Sandy.

The doctor handed me his car. “Take it. Go. Your wife’s having a baby,” he said. I raced to Riverside General, heart pounding, shoes squishing in rainwater. I reached Sandy in time, just as contractions intensified. An hour later, our daughter Kelly was born, perfect and crying in our arms.

After the birth, I returned the car and checked on the driver. Awake, remorseful, he admitted he’d been wrong about the rivalry. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized people mattered more than sports.

Three weeks later, he came to our door with a tiny Hawks jersey. “For your little fan,” he said. I smiled. That rainy day, I learned that kindness is choosing to do the right thing, even when it’s hardest. And it changed everything.