He was a serious tennis player - sort of - having taken lessons for four years and having won a silver medal at the 2004 games in Minneapolis. I say "sort of" serious because he confessed to me, "The only reason I play tennis is to watch the chicks." In much the same vein he said that the most fun he was having in Louisville was "looking at girls," but no, he was certainly not going to talk to them. I asked him why he came to the games and he pointed to his parents with a shrug. His father, James, works with transplant recipients and donors and was in Louisville with his wife, Alma to support Jonathan and everyone in the transplant family. Jonathan said he would rather be home sleeping or maybe reading a long John Grisham novel, though he admitted that the bed at the hotel was pretty comfortable. He did not care for the fact that the games were all spread out and he had to do some walking, but he did like eating at T.G.I. Fridays. No mention from Jonathan about a "celebration of life." He was too busy living it.

I later learned that he'd lost his tennis match but would later play for the bronze medal. He also had basketball and volleyball to look forward to, along with the chicks he would admire in the present and future.

I decided to speak with one of those "chicks" and met with Jessica Alagna, 17, competing for Team Michigan. She wrinkled her nose when I told her who Jonathan enjoyed looking at, and she gave a strong "No!" when I asked if she enjoyed looking at guys.

We didn't talk much about tennis. Jessica and her mother, Sonia, instead shared the fascinating and very moving story of Jessica's intestinal transplant twelve years ago - only the third one that had ever been performed. There were a number of difficulties as with any experimental surgery. In fact, she underwent 40 surgeries. When she was given two weeks to live, her mother took her home so she would not spend her last days in the hospital. Then the call came.

Jessica did not take a bite of food until she was five years old, being fed through an IV, and she was not physically ready for the process of eating. The muscles in her mouth were not developed enough for her to chew, and her tongue, unaccustomed to food, went into spasm at the touch of soup. Jessica also could not recognize the sensations of being hungry, thirsty or full.

Now she eats plenty. Her transplanted intestine does not absorb fat, and while some might envy the problem this slender teen-ager has to deal with, she said, "I want to be fat." Her favorite foods are pizza and spaghetti, and she smiled at my suggestion that Domino's deliver her a pizza out on the tennis court. Jessica described an experience at a restaurant during the 2002 games in Orlando when a waiter served her a large meal that he bet her she could not finish. The prize was to be a free dessert. She finished the meal, but she complained, "I never got my dessert." She was attending the 2006 games to participate in tennis, basketball, bowling and eating.

Smiling at her side, her mother endured Jessica's "Mom stories" that had nothing to do with her transplant or the games, demonstrating the kind of unconditional love that is so evident at the Transplant Games. Sonia Alagna described the "Jessica and Friends Intestinal Transplant Foundation" founded to help families of kids in need of this very rare (about eleven per year) procedure through their insurance and other financial difficulties, which often involve relocation to another state. She gave out her phone number (517-669-5940) and invited people in need to reach out to the foundation.

I did actually watch some tennis as I was covering the tennis competition. Alan Seastrom from Team Nation's Capital played a spirited semi-final match against Darin Schumacher from Team Wisconsin. The very good tennis featuring power serves and long rallies with sliced angle shots and clever drop shots. I sat in the heat with a group of Wisconsin fans including Darin's brother Todd, his wife Tia, and his kidney donor, Dot Giovannini.

Prior to the transplant Dot had known Darin professionally through a local advertising club in Green Bay. She explained the reason for her gift: "My mom died of cancer. I knew he [Darin] was sick and I could help. It sucks when you can't. I knew I could, so I did." Simple as that. The transplant took place in 2000.

After his win Darin told me that he'd been playing tennis all of his life, competing in high school and briefly in college. When he picked up his racket for the first time after his transplant, he almost quit because he had fallen so far behind. But like everyone at the games in Louisville, he was not one to sit in bed and feel sorry for himself, so he played himself into shape and was to compete for the gold medal in two hours.

Like many competitors at the games, Darin suffered more than one health problem. He was born with spina bifida and is one of only 2% of people with that disease who are not in a wheelchair. In fact, his kidney transplant was his 26th surgery. Playing tennis in the Louisville heat was only one of the kinds of challenges that constitutes a life. He was here in his first Transplant Games to show, he said, "You can do things after a transplant. And," he added, "it's fun."

Darin's opponent, Alan Seastrom, received a kidney seven years ago from his mother, who is "doing great." He also has received a pancreas transplant three times, though for a variety of reasons (including thrombosis and a CMV viral infection) he will be in need of another. Darin was encouraged by the fact that his body did not reject any of the three, but like many people around the world, he is waiting.

While he is waiting he is swimming and playing tennis (singles and doubles), basketball and volleyball. These are his fifth games, which include the World Games in Budapest, Hungary in 1997. He played tennis in high school and continues to play in local tournaments near his home in Germantown, Maryland. This level of activity illustrates a point Alan makes very forcefully: "I'm here because I want to let the public know that transplantation does work - every person here is living proof - and to show the world that we are no different from anyone else except that we may have to eat at certain times, take our meds and avoid contact sports." Don't let the basketball players hear about that!

Yes, the event was tennis, but for the people I interviewed, the tennis was only a part of their larger life, from waiting for a new pancreas and acting as a living example of human vitality and capability, to getting something to eat and watching girls.