A "Game-Winner"
Is What We Need
Joe Maxwell, Publisher
I watched a 12-year-old boy hit a grand slam last night. I knew it when the ball came off the bat. Four runs in one hit—baseball’s version of completeness. We all want to be complete—to be whole forever. That’s why we love sports. Baseball and softball, among other sports, represent a persistent pursuit of perfection and completeness.
Every player takes the field chasing a better batting average or fielding percentage. Always, their stats are measured against perfection. Always, the best players fall short.
It’s the same way with our lives. All of us need that “complete game.” Every player and parent at every park has this greater need for a complete Game.
This summer, kids all over Mississippi don’t know it but they are chasing perfection at the plate, in the field, and in life.
And, of course, we parents are too.
In my life, this can lead to startling consequences.
Too often, I have dumped my personal thirst for completeness and self-satisfaction on an umpire—or even on my own child! If a play doesn’t go as I want, I feel robbed of self-satisfaction. It reminds me life is not fair. Or it reminds me that my child, like me, can’t make every play. We don’t cut it every time.
This lack of perfection gnaws at my gut.
That’s one of the reasons we all spend so much money, time, and emotion on youth sports. We are chasing for something in our gut. We chase it for our children. We chase it through our children.
Hopefully this summer’s youth sports events will drive home some key lessons to my children and me.
Consider: We all want to be perfect and complete. Every parent and child seeks this in a family or business or school or team. But none of us get it. If my child or an ump fails on the field this week, should I be surprised? Personally, I don’t need to be less competitive, but I do need to be more understanding. (At least until I become perfect myself.)
We all want to be happy. Happiness, however, comes over seasons, not single plays. Our summer sports, like our entire lives, are an arduous process of getting better. Don’t let one play define you.
Happiness comes in making memories. Coach Gary Noble of Jackson once led my second son’s 11-year-old team through an 8-day tournament to a national championship game, which we lost. But we won a bigger prize. Gary reminded us: “We made some great memories we’ll have for life. And we learned some things.” Gary knew that real joy was in our baseball journey, not any single game or play. Life is that way, too.
We all need a Hero no sport can supply. When that boy hit a grand slam last night, he was his team’s hero. But only for a short time. Life, too, gives us temporary heroes, but none is eternally satisfying. We come to the ball park each day hoping for another big play. We wake up tomorrow searching for something … more.
Someone all-powerful can deliver that final hit we need. We need an Ultimate Hero to stand at the plate and crack an eternal Game-Winner for us. With Him, life becomes an amazing (albeit challenging) trip around the bases toward the guaranteed home plate celebration—everlasting wholeness and perfection. SS
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