The mission for a Bobby Witt Jr. hug made this 11-year-old kid’s day
They saw him coming in a neighboring classroom, Royals star Bobby Witt Jr. here in the flesh as one of them said, and the ecstasy of the moment broke up their chant.
“Let’s go Royals!” a classroom of fifth-graders had shouted in anticipation of his arrival.
The unified chorus transformed into screams and, well, pure chaos, but 11-year-old Langston Blount reacted as he rarely does.
He turned silent.
A day after learning Bobby Witt Jr. would be visiting his school, Crossroads Charter Schools, through the Royals literacy program, Langston established a singular mission.
Forget the selfie. Who needs an autograph?
The kid just wanted a hug.
“He’s my idol.” Langston said. “He’s my king.”
As Witt walked through the middle of the classroom at about 11 a.m. Wednesday, Langston took his first shot. A fully-stretched arm grazed Witt’s wrist and then his hand.
Almost.
Witt spent the next 20 minutes taking questions from the students. Who was his idol? What is his favorite thing to do in Kansas City? What about the most important trophy he’s won?
“I haven’t won it yet,” he replied. (His father and Derek Jeter are the idols; and nothing beats playing baseball at Kauffman Stadium, in case you were curious about the other two questions.)
One of the teachers at Crossroads, Sarah Barber, insists Witt’s advice on how he prepares for a big game — develop a routine that mimics the lesser important days — will help some of the kids prepare for their all-important Missouri Assessment Program (MAP) testing later this month. She knows they’re anxious.
The day offered a settling reprieve.
But 11-year-old Langston still wanted more. He wanted that hug.
After exhausting the questions, Witt posed for a picture with the entire class. A scrum broke out afterward, and the kids mobbed him on the way out the door.
One last chance.
As Witt put the finishing touches on an autograph for one student, Langston stood nearby, arms stretched, smile a mile wide, ready like a runner on the starting blocks.
Witt turned around.
“I felt like a millionaire,” he said. “I felt like I was riding on ice.”
He bounced up and down afterward. Couldn’t remember what he said to a classmate.
“I’m practically famous now,” he’d later say.
Turns out, he got more than a hug.
As he spoke to me, and fellow sports columnist Vahe Gregorian, too, he removed a crumbled sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and turned it over to reveal two signatures: One from Witt, the other from his wife, Maggie.
Langston plans to find a frame the paper. It would make for a good keepsake in his room, I pointed out. But he already had a better idea.
“I’ll keep it in the living room,” he said, “and brag about it to my brothers.”
As he folded it up, ready to return it to his hip pocket, I wondered what might be on the other side of the paper.
It was a school paper, a math worksheet.
“This is the paper we used for MAP testing,” he said. “But who cares?”
This story was originally published May 7, 2025 at 1:41 PM.