Second Drafts

A Dispatch from January

I have over 150 "have-to-answer" emails in my inbox, so it would seem a good time to work on the blog. (I'll just think of this as a warm-up rather than a put-off. Note: If you're waiting on an email from me, it will come today). Some items of late to mark the days:

I just finished two books, both with a financial theme: The Price of Everything, a parable of economic emergent order, by Russell Roberts, and The Third Conversion, a "novelette" by R. Scott Rodin about fundraising as ministry and not just money. The first book is a very readable text that our seniors are reading in Economics; the second is a more semi-hokey series of conversations between a seasoned fundraiser and his up-and-coming protege.

While recovering from my first kidney stone surgery, I found myself with some time to actually watch a few things on Netflix via the iPad. I'd heard of Joss Whedon's Firefly series (only one season of 15 episodes, capped off for resolution by the movie, Serenity) and enjoyed this "space western" well enough. I also had time for a few Shakespeare films (Kenneth Branaugh's Henry V and Patrick Stewart in Macbeth were excellent), which were fun and novel to watch.

There's been a lot of "launching" going on this January. A week ago, City Pres got off the ground with our first official worship service (I helped serve the Lord's Supper) and our Tuesday night CityGroup started back up; this past week, we kicked off our Veritas capital campaign and website, which we hope will come to first fruition in early March; and I've  enjoyed getting back in the classroom twice a week teaching the second semester of our senior American History course (two very different but engaging texts: A Patriot's History of the United States by Larry Schwiekart and Michaell Allen and A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn).

Other highlights so far this month: 70-degree weather, my four capitalist daughters selling three (and counting) enormous boxes worth of chocolate for their homeschool band program, Megan clearing off and cleaning my desk (she loves me), NFL football playoffs (which is really the only time I'm interested enough to watch), the daily newspaper in my driveway, cold milk on hand, and people who call me "friend".

Okay. Guess it's time to deal with email, to which I say (in my best British accent): "Do your worst!" Thanks for reading.

New Kevin Durant Commercial Filmed in OKC

Pretty cool ad from Nike featuring OKC as the backdrop for Thunder superstar Kevin Durant. Thank you, KD, for being classy enough for Sam Cooke's "Good Times" tune.

A Beautiful Season

"I love baseball.
You know it doesn't have to mean anything,
it's just beautiful to watch."
Woody Allen in Zelig

I hung up my baseball uniform today. Granted, I hung several of them up (uniform collection is one of the least glamorous parts of high school coaching), but I paused an extra moment when I came to number 20. Though I had picked it last year simply because it was the biggest jersey available (ahem), wearing it this year ironically corresponded with our JV team's final number of wins this season - the most victories for a JV baseball team in Westminster's 28-year history.

I mentioned the irony of my number to the guys in my pre-game talk last Thursday - the last game of the season and the one we needed to win to reach 20. As there are no playoffs or post-season games at the junior varsity level, total number of victories would seem all a JV team can shoot for to register its existence. But in baseball (as in most sports), record (we were 20-2 on the year) rarely captures what a season means to a coach and his players; relationship does that.

While we had our share of ups and downs, we loved one another even (and especially) when we didn't always like each other. Sure, there was plenty of competition for positions and no one wants to ride pine when his team is on the field, but the guys worked through a lot of that early in the season (sometimes with a little help from their coaches) and came to be each other's biggest fans.

Out of 22 games, no lineup was the same (Cardinals manager Tony La Russa is not the only one who can manage by "platoon"). At the JV level, our goal is to play as competitively as we can while playing as many as we can - winning games and preparing guys to be able to one day contribute at the Varsity level. In addition, JV provides the opportunity to call up some guys from our Freshman team (in only our second year, they went a very respectable 9-4 this spring) to see what various winning permutations the future might hold.

For some this season, action on the JV (or Freshman) team may have been all they saw, but they played a lot, learned a lot, and won a lot. For others, contributing at the Varsity level came sooner than later, as we played our last four games without three of our sophomores who got "called up" and are still playing as our Varsity just won districts on Wednesday for the sixth straight year.

One of our JV player's dads sent me a gracious email summing up our season this way:

"Our family appreciates the time you gave to coaching the boys the past two years. You somehow managed to get playing time for everyone, which doesn't happen much in high school baseball, and you did it without weakening the team's performance in any way.  That's an impressive accomplishment for any coach."

I received several notes like this from parents, and being the affirmation junkie that I am, appreciated every one of them. Still, the one thing that meant the most to me this season happened after our 19th win. We were playing a 4A school (Westminster is 2A in size) and the opposing team's coach had told his team that we were not any good; he did not even have enough respect for us or our program to throw an actual pitcher against us, but simply plucked an infielder and had him awkwardly pitch.

We ended up winning, 18-3. After the game and our normal post-game meeting in the outfield, the guys made a few mini-speeches and handed my assistant coach, Slade Johnson, and me a manilla envelope with 15 tickets to a Cardinals game. Their parents had chipped in on so that we could all go to a game together (which we did Wednesday night after having the guys over for grilled hot dogs and wiffle ball - see below).

After handing over the tickets (and with even bigger "ah, shucks" smiles than before), the guys made a few more mini-speeches about my leaving for Oklahoma and presented me with an authentic Rawlings bat with my name engraved in the barrel and their signatures scrawled on the bat head. Marveling at both the beauty and the meaning of the piece of wood I held in my hands, I nearly cried at the classy thoughtfulness of it.

The next day, we won our twentieth and final game. As I was walking off the field after shaking hands with the other team, the Lord gave me an idea for our post-game meeting. Since I had received a bat from the guys the day before, I thought it might be a good idea to rightly set up my successor. Grabbing my coach's fungo bat, I made my own mini-speech and presented it to Slade, who will be overseeing and coaching the JV and Freshman teams next year. He was thrilled (notice Lil' Blue in his hand below).

After the meeting, as Slade and I were walking back to the dugout, the guys presented their final gift to me: my very first water cooler shower. Strangely (and after the initial cold shock), I was honored by this just as much as I was by the bat the day before. Why? Because my players felt comfortable and secure enough in their relationship with their coach to have some fun with me. The day before they had honored me with their respect; now they honored me with their trust. I don't know if they caught it or not, but it was a beautiful illustration of how we are to walk with and enjoy our relationship with God.

It was a special season - one that I will take with me to Oklahoma and hold onto for years to come. I told the guys that, if they work hard and commit themselves to each other in doing so, I believe they have a great chance of one day winning a state championship. I also told them that, if and when they make it that far, I will be catching a plane back to St. Louis to be there. I think they believe they can do it. I think they believe I will, too.

So, for all you baseball fans out there, there's your post-season wrap-up. Thanks to my players, their parents, my fellow coaches, and the Lord God who gave us baseball. The only season that can top this one is still to come...and will play on through eternity. Look for me: I'll be the one in the coach's box down the third base line...

(Thanks to Dale Froeschner and Megan for the photos. For Megan's thoughts, click here.)

The Original Field of Dreams

The backstop was three times higher and made from a wooden frame and chicken wire. Shortstop felt a whole lot further away from first base then it looks now. Still, back before there was a movie about plowing under farm acreage for a baseball field and the whole "Is this Heaven?" thing, indeed there was - only in Illinois instead of Iowa.

Thanks, Dad, for not planting over the baseball diamond. Truly, it's "gone the distance."

The Boys (and Girls) of Summer

It probably has something to do with living in St. Louis, but I always find myself writing a post on the occasion of Major League Baseball's opening day. As usual, humor me.

Whether or not she meant for the opportunity to coincide, Megan scheduled a tour (via Groupon) this past Sunday afternoon of Busch Stadium III. It had just snowed the day before and there were at least a dozen people on the field trying to dry things up; otherwise, we and the 20 other people on the tour pretty much had the place to ourselves.

As you may know, St. Louis is a great baseball city with the second-most World Series championships to its credit (10; only the New York Yankees have more at 27). Somewhat unrelated (but interesting nevertheless), we've also had a fair number of official logos during this time (Slugger Bird - fourth from the left - was always a favorite of mine).

The history is rich, and some of it is represented at different locations throughout the stadium: vintage uniforms encased with pennants and other timeless memorabilia; a tribute to former Cardinals radio announcer, Jack Buck; various World Series programs and trophies scattered here and there.

The Redbirds aren't the only ones who open their season this week; Westminster's baseball season started for us as well. This is my second year coaching the junior varsity/freshmen at WCA and I have an unbelievably talented group of guys who really love the game. It's also a treat to be part of a coaching staff under head coach Rich Van Gilst (now in his 28th season) and with pitching coach Andy Benes, former Cardinals pitcher who spent 14 years in the big leagues.

Last week, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ranked WCA's varsity team number one for small schools in St. Louis. My part in that (along with stellar assistant coaches Slade Johnson and Micah Gall, two guys in their twenties who were both solid players in high school and college) is to build guys into varsity-level players during their freshmen and sophomore years. While we're certainly not the only ones investing in their baseball skills (many of our guys play baseball year-round for other coaches), it's fun to see "our boys" do well when they get the chance to play up.

For instance, two days ago, Ben Lovell, my top pitcher from last year as a freshman, started his first varsity game as a sophomore, going six innings and getting the win against one of the big Parkway public schools (check out his post-game interview). Last night, due to some injuries with some of our seniors, Mark McFarland, another sophomore, got "called up" to do some varsity relief pitching and threw two innings and also got the win. Today, a third sophomore, Davis Vanderslice, is making his first varsity start, and I'm confident he'll do well, too.

Sure, I hate to lose the guys from the junior varsity team, but it's fun to both help prepare and celebrate with them before and after their "big break." It's also fun to "call up" a few freshmen to help out on the junior varsity level in replacement (having lost two of my sophomore starters, I'm starting two freshmen pitchers in games later this week). Finally, it's very enjoyable to win games with guys at the junior varsity level (we won our first game 7-0 by playing really good defensive against another of the big Parkway schools).

Tonight, after our JV and Freshman games were canceled due to rain (the joys of playing baseball in March in the Midwest), I came home and played catch with my two youngest, both of whom are learning to love baseball as much as their two older sisters. It's amazing how much they've improved in their catching and throwing since last year, all from simply growing one year older. We laughed, we talked, we threw, we caught. It was fun.

At whatever level - half-pint, freshman, junior varsity, varsity, the Majors - baseball is the same great game that gets the entire city of St. Louis excited when the boys (and girls) of summer show up and start playing in the spring. It's as perfect a game as there is, and I'm glad to relive my love for it as a former pitcher/player and now as a coach.

Play ball! And go Redbirds!

(For more baseball thoughts over the years, click here, here, here, here, and here.)

Out Standing in My Field

My first year as a junior varsity baseball coach has officially come to a close. We finished 13-8 - a good season, especially after starting 0-4 in early April. We had a great mid-season run in which we won 12 of 13 games, and we could/should have won four of the seven games we lost, as they were all 1-2 run games.

The three things I preached all season were the importance of attitude (heart), ability (hands), and adaptability (head). Because of the nature of JV baseball - games bumped, umpire no-shows, guys transitioning from varsity - the adaptability point became a favorite joke for the team (as well as our only hope of making it through with our sanity).

A personal highlight was working with JV assistant coach, Slade Johnson. Slade played four years at WCA before playing ball at Wheaton College, and he's starting down the path I just finished - taking classes at Covenant while beginning his teaching career at WCA this coming fall. He brought energy and experience to our team, and we co-coached our way through the year pretty much on the same page the whole way through.

We had some Field of Dreams moments as well as some scenes straight out of The Bad News Bears. We had a variety of personalities on the team and some players with multiple personalities on the field. We got better as the season went on and learned to play the game with intensity and pride. We made mental errors that led to physical ones we had to shake off, get over, and move past. Parents were supportive and got behind us, and Megan and the girls were our biggest fans.

In addition to trying to help the guys learn the fundamentals of baseball, we had plenty of opportunities to help them learn some fundamentals of life; sports - especially team sports - are so good for this. Some things I heard myself say repeatedly this season:

• Practice doesn't make perfect; perfect practice makes perfect.
• The only thing you can control when bad breaks happen is how you respond.
• Sometimes you have to deal with bad or unfair calls, so start now.
• It's only the first inning; relax.
• Respecting those on your team can sometimes be hard, but it is not optional.
• Don't make excuses; take responsibility.
• There's nothing you can do about it; it's not your fault.
• Let me do the coaching; you do the playing.
• Win humbly; lose graciously.
• Play the game and have some fun.

While we had a few injuries and the occasional sore arm, nothing was paralyzing or fatal, which is not insignificant when one considers the number of baseballs flying around practice, warm-ups, and games during the course of a season. I'm sure we had a few bruised egos here and there (cursing, throwing equipment in frustration, or showing up late without reason guarantees time riding pine), but those heal eventually and "build character" as my father used to say about all things hard.

As much as I could write about the season, this picture with Mark sums up what WCA JV baseball is all about - smiles, smudged eye black, and dirt on the uniform. Love it.

(Special thanks to George Sneed and David McFarland for a season of great pictures.)

Lineups 2010

My fantasy baseball league (Crooked Numbers) had its draft this afternoon. It's my first time playing (I got Megan to field a team as well), but nobody mentioned the draft itself was going to consume two whole hours of a Sunday afternoon. As there are 11 teams in our league, the process took a while, but I was impressed with Yahoo's interface and draft kit, so at least it didn't feel clunky...just long.

Neither Megan nor I have any idea what we're doing in terms of baseball fantasy (we prefer the real stuff), but for those who do, here are my 23 drafted players here at the start of the season:

Pick #, Player, Position(s)

1. (6) Joe Mauer C

2. (19) Aramis Ramírez 3B

3. (30) Adam Wainwright SP

4. (43) Robinson Canó 2B

5. (54) Mariano Rivera RP

6. (67) Billy Butler 1B

7. (78) Bobby Abreu OF

8. (91) Yunel Escobar SS

9. (102) Jason Kubel OF

10. (115) Jair Jurrjens SP

11. (126) Brendan Ryan 2B,SS

12. (139) Rick Porcello SP

13. (150) A.J. Burnett SP

14. (163) Stephen Strasburg SP

15. (174) Miguel Tejada SS

16. (187) Joe Nathan RP

17. (198) Rajai Davis OF

18. (211) Carlos Ruiz C

19. (222) Maicer Izturis 2B,SS

20. (235) Tim Wakefield SP

21. (246) Melky Cabrera OF

22. (259) Andy Pettitte SP

23. (270) Joba Chamberlain SP

I feel pretty good about the majority of my picks, as I've got some superstars (Mauer, Wainwright, Rivera, Abreu), some solid position players (Cano, Escobar, Ryan, Kubel), and just to keep it interesting, some risks (Strasburg). My one certified dud draft pick was Joe Nathan, as apparently he is scheduled for Tommy John surgery soon (information that would have been helpful yesterday). Whups.

Anyone playing fantasy baseball with a comment or two? Care to post your roster and compare? Any counsel or strategy for this rookie?

In semi-related news, I'm dealing with a completely other set of rosters as Westminster's underclassmen baseball season begins tomorrow with a four-game junior varsity tournament (M-TH) as well as a freshman game on Wednesday. I've been working on my signs all weekend long so I don't look like I'm having a seizure down the third base line, but I'm not quite there...yet. Come on out if you're in the neighborhood. Go Wildcats!

10 Commandments of Pitching (or What Happens When a Bible Teacher Coaches Baseball)

Handing out this original (and highly contextualized) paraphrase of Exodus 20:1-20 to our junior varsity pitchers today:

“And Coach spoke all these words: ‘I am the Coach your Teacher, who brought you out of the dugout, out of the land of the bullpen.

1. You shall not lose control – mentally, physically, or emotionally.

2. You shall not make for yourself a mess by falling behind counts or walking batters. You shall not drag or work at a slow pace; for I, the Coach your Teacher, am a just Coach, punishing the pitchers for the sin of not throwing strikes through the third or fourth inning, but showing mound time up to a full seven innings to those who love pitching and care about the strike zone.

3. You shall not misuse a pitch in the wrong spot or in the wrong situation, for the Coach will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his pitches.

4. Remember your fielders by throwing strikes. Three balls you are allowed to do all your work, but three strikes is a Sabbath for the Coach your Teacher. With them, you shall not wear out your team, neither you, nor your infielders or outfielders, nor your parents or fans, nor your girlfriends or wannabe girlfriends, nor the scout within your gates. For with three strikes in mind the Coach made the decision and the line-up, the fielding positions, and all who are in them, but he rested on the fact that you are going to make good pitches. Therefore the Coach trusts you to throw strikes so the team can make outs.

5. Honor your umpires and your officials, so that you may live long on the mound the Coach your Teacher is giving you.

6. You shall not waste pitches.

7. You shall not walk the lead-off hitter.

8. You shall not allow runners to steal on you.

9. You shall not allow the opposing team to score the inning after we score.

10. You shall not covet your teammate’s velocity. You shall not covet your teammate’s curveball, or his changeup or slider, his two-seam or four-seam, or any pitch that your teammate throws.’

When the pitchers saw the thunder and lightning and heard ‘Play ball!” and saw the mound in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to the catcher, ‘Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have Coach speak to us or we will die.’ The catcher said to the pitchers, ‘Do not be afraid. Coach has come to test you, so that the fear of Coach will be with you to keep you from throwing balls.’”

Hoping this gets the point across. In the meantime, if you're a fan of both baseball and the Bible, you might enjoy this from a few years back: Moses at the Bat.

O Canada (revised)

A friend of mine in Colorado is in a fun but fierce battle with a Canadian friend of his over the outcome of the Olympic gold medal hockey game in which Canada beat the U.S. My friend asked me to write a parody of the Canadian national anthem to use as ammo.

Here's the original (click here to listen):

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Below is my version (click here to sing along). Keep in mind the following is all of 5 minutes of work, stereotypically-dated by my coming of age in the 80's (so take off, eh?):

O Canada!
Our home and TV land
True luck that we have Captain Kirk's command.

With glowing hearts made warm by beer
and McKenzie brothers two!
S-C-T-V,
O Canada, we raise remotes to you.

God keep us warm, laid back and free.
O Canada, we love to watch TV.

O Canada, we love to watch TV.

Other lyric suggestions?

This Just In

We interrupt this discussion to bring you Megan's latest post - on baseball. Hints of spring, familiarity of home, America's pastime done on the cheap...I'm in love all over again.

We Were Young and We Were Improving

When we moved from Colorado back to the Midwest five years ago, Megan got her first real taste of my tiny hometown's passion for all things basketball and baseball. While she mocked it a bit then, she's since come around to a more accepting position, which was helpful this month, as I was invited back to Griggsville to join in celebrating the career of my junior high school coach, Ken Stauffer.

Coach Stauffer's coaching legacy includes 1,130 wins split between Griggsville's seventh and eighth grade basketball teams, countless regional and sectional trophies, two state basketball championships (with more appearances), and induction into the Illinois Basketball Coaches Association Hall of Fame. He retires with something north of a .750 winning percentage with only two losing seasons over his 38-year career. (For the record, the 7th and 8th grade teams I played on were a combined 39-2. Booyah.)

 

Speaking of those teams, here are seven of the eight guys in my grade who played for Coach Stauffer all through junior high school. Six of the seven of us went on to experience continued team success in our high school years, and as this was the first time all of us had been together in Griggsville in 25 years, a picture seemed appropriate.

As part of the celebration, the school had pulled out a lot of old trophies and pictures, one of which I had completely forgotten about from 1982, but that Megan and the girls found particularly humorous. I was one of two fifth graders to make the eighth grade team that year, and though I didn't get to play in the tournament, I went on to enjoy good success in both junior and senior high baseball later (my only real credential for what I'm doing this spring...ahem).

 

All that to say, it was a fun weekend at home honoring Coach Stauffer, seeing old teammates, and reliving a few of the glory days. Granted, Megan reminded me of her original Uncle Rico post, and my girls couldn't quite believe I was once the age that my oldest is now, but to quote my favorite Midwestern poet:

That's when a sport was a sport
And groovin' was groovin'
And dancin' meant everything
We were young and we were improvin'

Laughin', laughin' with our friends
Holdin' hands meant somethin', baby
Outside the club, 'Cherry Bomb'
Our hearts were really thumpin'

Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"
Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"

-- from "Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp

Yeah.

Play a Man's Game, But Will Men Will Show Up to Play?

Over the past few days, I've read several interpretations of this year's Super Bowl commercials, many in which men seemed chastised for not being "male enough." (I noticed the trend myself in real-time on Sunday, but hadn't had time to put down my thoughts until now.)

Personally, my reaction to the ads was positive, if for no other reason than that advertisers seemed to be targeting a demographic other than just the metro-sexual and hyper-sexual male types. Instead, this year's crop of commercials seemed aimed at the wimpy male type - the guy who, either outwardly or inwardly, has basically surrendered his masculinity to his more "feminine side" (if there is such a thing) and needs to buck up and be the man in the relationship (whatever relationship that happens to be).

The first ad toward this end was for Dockers and their call for a Pantsformation. What I took from it was the call to men (mostly slobbish, out-of-shape guys who take pride in their slobbish out-of-shapeness) to dress up a bit and, well, "wear the pants" of initiative in life:

Another one in this same vein was for Flo.tv. This commercial applied the "buck up" theme to a particular male/female/sports relationship triangle in which a guy lets his girlfriend walk all over him when he would rather be watching the game. CBS sports anchor Jim Nantz's comment at the end: "Change outta that skirt, Jason." (Ironically, Nantz divorced his wife of 26 years last October, so I'm not sure his words and example are the best to follow concerning the aforementioned male/female/sports relationship triangle.)

Apparently, a lot of women had trouble with this next ad from Dodge, as it came off "ridiculously misogynist and hyper-masculine" in its portrayal of men's brooding anger at having to deal with women's demands before making "Man's Last Stand" and choosing to drive a Dodge Charger. While I'm no expert on the matter of misogyny, there does seem to be a fair amount of emasculation the men in the commercial are trying to withstand (albeit with a pretty shallow course of action in simply owning the car of their choice):

Perhaps the one spot I liked most was Dove Men+Care's "Journey to Comfort" ad. Though I have no plans to buy their product (sorry, Dove, but I feel comfortable enough in my own skin not to care that much about it), I could relate to the frenetic life documented in the commercial, as well as the sense of accomplishment that comes with having (so far) survived it.

Whereas the typical Super Bowl fare might (and did) include the typical "cars, cash, and cuties" commercials, this year's collection seemed more geared to appeal to a man's needs as much or more as his wants. Though wrapped in humor, subtle acknowledgments of a man's desire for purpose, respect, adventure, and success seemed to upstage the normal bounty of commercials boasting of beer and babes.

The thing I take from all this is - newsflash! - there's some real confusion out there as to what true manhood entails, so much so that it's become a national joke during the biggest television event in the world. Have we really come to a point where men are so comfortable laughing at and thinking of themselves as mere "male wannabes" that advertisers have recognized a whole new market to target?

Bubbaville, Super Bowl, Love

When we lived in Colorado, Megan and I hosted an annual White Trash Super Bowl Party.

We took our inspiration from the Colorado Springs neighborhood in which we bought our first house - "Bubbaville," we affectionately called it. You see, we lived down the street from the local Salvation Army; the police helicopters flew over our house every night as we happened to be in the center of their "suspicious behavior" circuit; and our neighbors (with whom we awkwardly shared a driveway) used to loudly ride their four-wheeler around our house for fun.

The idea of an actual party came a couple years later, after we had moved out of Bubbaville and into a different neighborhood across town. We encouraged our friends to embrace their "inner white trash." For our part, we let our then-very-young children run around in nothing but diapers; Megan put on a ton of cheap jewelry and frizzed out her hair; I didn't shower, fix my bedhead, or wear anything but sweats and a white T-shirt. We thought about putting a couple vehicles up on blocks in the front yard, but in the end opted for dragging a bunch of stuff out of the garage and putting up a couple of cheap pink flamingos instead.

Here's an invitation I sent out via email one year:

Our friends gleefully showed up and played their parts: guys wore "wife-beater" T-shirts, fake mullets, and jeans with holes (a la Def Leppard); gals got "creative" with their makeup, giving themselves fake hickeys and black eyes as if they had just fought AND made up with their boyfriends/husbands in our driveway. There were other little kids running around in diapers and pull-ups, and we all sat around laughing at each other - sometimes watching the game, always watching the commercials.

It was funny...and fun...and wrong. Megan felt it...and so did I.

For someone like me, whose sense of humor can seem unfortunately more developed than his sensitivity, having fun at the expense of others is all too easy to be all that good. I learned a long time ago not to use humor as a weapon, but there have been plenty of instances - some public, most private - when I have broken my own cease-fire agreement. The only thing quicker than my brain is my tongue, which can be unfortunate for others when the former follows the latter in an all-out pursuit of anything funny.

When we moved to St. Louis and I got my first full semester of seminary under my belt, the Holy Spirit zeroed in on a couple of areas in my life that caused me to regret and repent of some prejudices I never thought I had. Despite growing up in a county with next to no racial diversity, my prejudices rarely involve race; instead (and as my "white trash" years should have first clued me in), I have to watch out for "education prejudice" - judging others on the education (or the sense of education) I perceive them to have or not have.

While there's more nuance to it than I can describe in words, basically it's a very quick process that goes something like this: if I think I'm smarter than you are, I win; if I don't think I'm smarter than you are, then I ask the question again and again until I can figure out a reason how and why I could be. (Ironically, the ridiculous part in all this is that I assume by default that I'm actually dumber than everyone, which is another example of how sin ratchets up my insecurities and feeds the aforementioned cycle.)

Thankfully - mercifully - I've grown in my understanding of God's love for me through the words and wounds of grace, but the Super Bowl (of all things) and the memories of the "white trash" parties of the past serve as an annual reminder of my need to love others as God loves others, which often - and often simply - means not making fun of them.

As Paul wrote to the Philippians (and as a good friend once shared with me because of my arrogance):

"And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God." Philippians 1:9-11

Go Colts.

(Note: To relive last year's Super Bowl (and commercials), I live-blogged it here.)

Leading Off

"Progress always involves risks. You can't steal second base and keep your foot on first." Frederick B. Wilcox

I'm about to enter new territory this spring. No, I've not been offered a new teaching position anywhere, nor have I yet to receive a multi-book publishing deal. No, I have not decided to try to finish our attic by myself (God have mercy), nor have I come to the attention of anyone for anything in particular of late.

My new territory? I'm the new junior varsity baseball coach at Westminster...in St. Louis...home of the Cardinals...and supposedly the most intelligent fans in baseball.

Gulp.

Baseball at the high school level in St. Louis is quite the deal, but not as I initially imagined. When I played high school ball back in the day (pitcher, infield) in rural Illinois, there was little overlap of the seasons and most of us played three of them (fall and spring baseball, basketball in the winter). These days in metropolitan St. Louis, kids play two sports in the same season (right now it's basketball at school and baseball or soccer as part of a "select league" run by former pro/semi-pro/college athletes) and all summer long (again, in these "select leagues").

While I've not had any first-hand experience with these "select teams" just yet (some examples: Gamers, Pirates), I've listened a bit and have been able to piece together a few things about them: they're fairly competitive, incredibly time-intensive, way expensive ($2,500+ for over 100 hours of instruction), and supposedly the best shot a kid has to get recruited/drafted to play college or pro ball, as coaches and scouts tend to prefer this "one-stop-shopping" to watching prep games that might only feature one all-star.

Of course, hearing the boys talk about the possibilities is one thing; listening to parents dream about them is another - in many ways, the kids are more realistic than the adults in evaluating themselves and their chances to make it past high school ball. As I've yet to see many of them in action (we've had three days' worth of optional "open gyms" for individual tee work and soft-toss, but the official start of the season isn't until March 1st), it will be interesting to see who's more accurate - the kids or the parents.

As Monday is MLK Day and schools are out, Westminster's varsity baseball coach and I are attending the I-70 Clinic, an annual gathering of high school and college baseball coaches from around the Midwest held at Greenville College and hosted by their baseball team. I have no idea what to expect, but I'm looking forward to going and seeing what I can learn about coaching high schoolers in a game I've played and always loved. I'm also hoping to pick up some tips on coaching amateur baseball in a professional baseball town.

Play ball.

My Counsel for Mark McGwire

I suppose you can call it "news" if you want, but is it really any surprise to hear from Mark McGwire himself that the former Cardinals first baseman/Major League Baseball single season home run king used steroids? Let's be honest: this doesn't exactly rank up there with "man bites dog."

Some of my students have asked, from an ethical perspective, what should happen to McGwire? Should he still be included on the home run list(s)? Should he still be considered for the Hall of Fame (he's been on the ballot for the past four years)? Should he still be the batting coach for the Cardinals this year?

Here's what I think: If McGwire really wants to do what is right and honorable, he will HIMSELF 1) request to be removed from the home run list(s); 2) request to be excluded permanently from Hall of Fame consideration; and 3) vow to do his very best to ensure that none of the Cardinals he coaches this year are juicing. Only then will he have any credibility in baseball, as well as any hope of leaving a legacy redeemed from his past.

Maybe - just maybe - others might follow McGwire's lead, with baseball being the better for it. I'm not naive and doubt many (if any) would, but I would sure think a whole lot more of McGwire as a person and, yes, even as a baseball player who played hard, made some mistakes, but had the character - finally - to deal with them honestly.

And Joining Me in the Booth This Evening...

Sound bites from my 9-year-old as we watch the Yankees trounce the Angels:

Me: "Boy, C.C. Sabathia sure has good control tonight."

Her: "Yeah, I never know where the ball is going to go when I pitch."

Me: "He's got them swinging at a lot of bad pitches."

Her: "Yeah, I swing at everything...pretty much."

Me: (as A-Rod successfully steals second): "It's a good thing he slid or he would have been out."

Her: "Yeah, I hate sliding. It gets me all dirty."

She is the Tim McCarver to my Joe Buck; the color commentary to my play-by-play.

There's No Crying in Baseball

Thanks to my friend, Mark, I was one of the 47,296 (new record attendance at Busch Stadium III) who watched the Cardinals' last game of 2009 in the chilly October air. Unfortunately, the Redbirds lost to the Dodgers, 5-1, putting the final touches on one of the worst post-season collapses I can remember (at least we had great seats for the bitter end - section 162, four rows back, halfway between third base and left field).

When I wasn't shivering (it was 60-degrees when the game started, and at least 45 by the game's end), I watched Fredbird try to entertain a less-than-enthusiastic crowd.

And, when I just couldn't take it anymore (i.e. after the Dodgers scored two runs in the 3rd to be up 3-0), I tried to drown my sorrows with a Coke and a bag of peanuts. Didn't help.

Alas, what was in many respects a very good season through August, fell short of being a great season by September's end, and the October postseason was, needless to say, forgettable. I can't believe how poorly we played the past six weeks, nor that we got swept by the Dodgers (who we beat 5 out of 7 times this year already) in the NLDS.

Indeed, there's no crying in baseball; there were, however, more than a few sighs at Busch Stadium tonight.

Cardinals in Seven

The Major League Baseball playoffs officially begin today and the Cardinals are in the thick of the race. Unlike 2006 (when the Redbirds surprisingly won the World Series), I'm not concerned with the pitching; it's the hitting that worries me. I won't bore you with statistics, but let's just say we could improve in the offensive department.

Back in 2006, I wrote a post on baseball called The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Here's an excerpt:

The joy of baseball in October is that, if and when we have a spare moment (and can actually get the channel to come in), odds are there's going to be a baseball game on, one that a whole lot of people here in St. Louis (as well as throughout the country) are watching closely. Call us nostalgic, but this takes us back to when such shared experiences through one real-time medium made us feel more in touch with others than we sometimes do now.

I still feel that way - even more so now that our local ESPN radio affiliate is carrying all the playoff games in addition to the Cardinals'. It's fun listening to different announcers broadcast from different cities for different teams. It feels like folks are paying a little more attention to the same thing, which in our highly-diversified media, doesn't happen all the time. It's one game at a time - best of five for the pennant, best of seven for the Series - and anyone who cares about baseball is watching or listening.

Personally, I'm hoping for a Cardinals/Yankees series, as these are the two most classic franchises in the game (yes, Red Sox and Cubs fans, you heard me). I hope it goes seven games, and I hope the Cardinals win. But even if they don't, as the weather chills and the leaves fall, watching a game or two, popcorn in hand, will be a most enjoyable way to spend an evening in October.

I'm saying Cardinals in seven. Care to make your prediction?

Some Thoughts from Baseball Heaven

As the St. Louis Cardinals are twenty games over .500 with a magic number of 26 to clinch the division (and a real chance at the World Series), I thought I'd let everyone in on the secret to our success.

Some might think it's starting pitching, and that's part of it; Chris Carpenter, Adam Wainwright, and Joel Piniero are statistically as good as any threesome in baseball. Some might think it's the end of July trades for Matt Holliday, Mark DeRosa, and Julio Lugo, and that's part of it; the team has been on something like a 23-9 tear since acquiring these guys. Some might even think it's the recent acquisition of John Smoltz, and that's part of it; after setting a club record for consecutive strikeouts in his first game in San Diego and his second quality start last night, indeed the Cardinals may have a true fifth starter.

But the key to everything is Albert. Pujols. El Hombre. The Mang.

The beauty of Cardinal baseball - certainly this year as well as historically - is that the Redbirds and their fans usually don't have to put up with the egos and shenanigans of players whose personal lives and contracts ridiculously distract from their contributions. From old-time Cardinal greats like Stan Musial to future Hall of Famers like Pujols, by and large, the Cardinals as an organization have usually attracted and employed baseball players rather than baseball celebrities.

There's a big difference between the two. Can anyone imagine Alex Rodriquez in a Cardinals uniform? Manny Ramirez? Milton Bradley (whose name I still giggle at when I think of the board games of my youth)? No way.

But here's the thing: even if the Cardinals organization temporarily lost their minds, came up with the money, and went after one or more of these guys (or guys like them), Albert is the great perspective bringer. Statistically as well as personally, Albert is the best player in the game - he is the ceiling, the bar, the standard - both, on and off the field. And yet, because of his spirit and humility (which are so much a result of his Christianity), he is a leader - the leader - for the ball club, and the one from whom his teammates naturally take their cues (and remember their places). As a result, the Cardinals are a team, not a show.

Growing up 100 miles north of St. Louis, I was a Cardinals fan from the beginning. Now, living in this city and attending more than one game a summer, I'm daily amazed at how much St. Louisians love their baseball...and how much of what they love has everything to do with who Albert is. There is no one - no one! - in this city who does not speak well of Albert on or off the field, and it feels like a very "once in a lifetime" chance to get to see him do his thing day in, day out.

Die-hard St. Louis fans don't need or want east coast glitz; we won't tolerate west coast attitudes. St. Louis is and has always been about baseball - the game - and Cardinal players like Musial and Pujols who have and continue to represent all that is right and good about it. This is not idol worship - neither Musial or Pujols have ever demanded that; rather, it is about enjoying the goodness of God to others, and rejoicing in the fact that we, by God's grace as well, happen to be here to experience it firsthand.

"The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again." - James Earl Jones in Field of Dreams

500

If anybody's still reading, you know I've been dragging my feet a bit on this, my 500th post here at Second Drafts. The reason is partly due to the fact that I haven't had much to write about (or time to write about it), and partly because I've been waiting for just the right topic to inspire me for this post's supposed significance.

Significance, however, is overrated. So, to bring some closure (at least for now), I thought I'd give you a peek into what I'll be doing over the next four months and simply call it a post. Of course, I may throw a picture or thought up here every now and then just to surprise folks, but for now, consider this the official start of my blogging sabbatical.

In the meantime, here's what I plan to be doing:

May
1-3: First official Dunham family camping trip of the season
8-10: Meet with potential ThirtySomewhere publishers in Colorado Springs
14-15: Covenant Seminary baccalaureate/graduation
23: Westminster Christian Academy graduation
29: School's out for summer

June
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
5-7: Clayton Community Theatre's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
12-14: Clayton Community Theatre's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
15-27: Westminster Christian Academy Summer Seminar in South Dakota
29: St. Louis Cardinals game

July
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
19-25: Dunham family trip to Florida
27: St. Louis Cardinals game

August
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
10: St. Louis Cardinals game
13: Westminster Christian Academy first day of school
31: ThirtySomewhere manuscript to publisher

In terms of the work, I tend to write best in the early morning, so when I'm not traveling or working the bookstore, my daily schedule will involve getting up at 4:30 or 5 a.m., writing for 3-4 hours, and then editing/revising a couple hours that afternoon. My goal will be 1500-2000 solid words (about 4-5 pages, double-spaced) per day. If I can put together 100-125 good pages and edit them together with roughly the same number from Doug by end of summer, we'll be in great shape.

So, stay tuned/subscribed for the occasional pic or progress report, but any prayers and general words of encouragement for the project are greatly appreciated.

Have a great summer.

Saturday Morning Summary

Here's the latest:

• I finished up the third quarter of school at WCA on Wednesday by doing a six-hour grading blitz all day on Thursday, then meeting with dozens of parents Thursday night and Friday morning for parent/teacher conferences. Apart from the hassle of getting ready, I enjoy talking with parents - I get to be pastor, counselor, and friend during the time. Spring Break in one more week!
• The girls and I had a really good bike ride yesterday afternoon, riding from Maplewood all the way to The Hill and back. Though a bit chilly, the girls did great, though I'm probably not going to take them out on a busy Friday afternoon again (too much traffic). I wish we had some trails around here (or a bike rack for one of our vehicles to be able to drive to some).
• I'm working the bookstore all day today (that is, 9:30-2:30) - the first Saturday shift I've worked all year. I'm bringing two administrative assistants (a.k.a. "Frick and Frack") with me, so I'll at least have some entertainment if things are slow. 
• Speaking of books, I'm reading too many right now (roughly eight). I'm also having problems staying awake between chapters. I hate when that happens.
• Somehow, I've fallen behind in my online seminary studies again. I just don't have the time/really enjoy sitting and listening to recorded lectures from five years ago, especially on this particular topic. My teaching and learning class is going a little better, but I've got some work (read, write a case study, etc.) to do before class Tuesday night.
• Last night, I watched part of the Mizzou/Oklahoma State game from the Big XII tournament. Mizzou apparently won (I went to bed), and looks to have a pretty easy path to winning the tournament against Baylor as Kansas and Oklahoma were upset earlier on. But don't count on them just yet: historically speaking (and I'm talking decades here), the better Mizzou's chances tend to be, the worst they do. And yes, you can quote me.
• Speaking of sports, there's a great cover story on Albert Pujols in Sports Illustrated this week. Sounds like Albert got my email from a month ago...or not.
• For those who haven't figured it out yet, the new Facebook design is actually Twitter with a blue paint job. I still don't get the fascination.

Have a good Saturday, folks.

A Letter to Albert Pujols

Dear Albert,

I'm sure you've heard the news about Alex Rodriquez admitting to using illegal substances to enhance his baseball performance. While I've never been much of an A-Rod fan, I am a fan of yours...but I confess I'm nervous.

I'm nervous, Albert, that you're a fraud as well - like Rodriquez...like Bonds...like McGwire. I'm nervous that your name is on a soon-to-be-released list of drug-doers, and if and when the evidence gets too overwhelming to refute, you're finally going to come out and say how sorry you are - not for what you did, but for the fact that you got caught.

And that's going to break my heart, Albert, along with millions of others who look to you as at least one - just one - player who happens to be great because he is rather than because of the drugs he does.

Which player are you, Albert? Can you say - before God and everybody - that you're honestly and truthfully the real deal? I need to know, because right now I have very little reason to care about baseball anymore. I'm sick of the business of it and of the players who will do anything for an edge.

I just want you to do your best, Albert, because your best is enough...or at least I think it has been. Has it been your best, Albert, or the drugs' best? I'm sorry I'm asking, but baseball has left me no choice.

I don't pretend to know the pressure you're under, and I don't mean to come off sounding ultimatum-ish, but if you fall, I'm done with baseball. I love the game (or the idea of what it used to be) and have always thought of you as an old-school player in a 21st-century uniform, but if you're no different from the overpaid junkies who can't hit a baseball unless they're on something, it's over, Albert. I'll never watch a game again.

Help me, El Hombre. You're my only hope.

Nervously,

Craig

Live-Blogging the Super Bowl

Based on absolutely nothing resembling an informed pick, I'm taking the Steelers over the Cardinals, 28-21. I'll add a few thoughts and observations throughout the evening below concerning the commercials, halftime show, and overall Super Bowl spectacle.

• Dumbest post-game question of the evening (asked of Steeler quarterback Ben Roethlisberger): "What did you learn about yourself tonight?" Seriously?
• The Steelers are thanking President Obama?
• If anybody wants an example of modern day idolatry, check out how football players bow down to the Lombardi trophy. Golden calf, anyone?
• Okay, the eTrade baby made me laugh. "Shankapotamus." Hilarious.
• Game over. Steelers win.
• Pittsburgh scores. With the extra point, that puts the score at 27-23 Pittsburgh. How about those prognostication abilities, eh?
• Question: Why are the sideline television reporters always women?
• Note to self: Avoid GoDaddy (as if I didn't know that already).
• I can hear the "I want to thank the Lord Jesus Christ" already: Warner to Fitzgerald, touchdown. Cardinals lead 23-20. Whoa.
• Safety for the Cardinals. 20-16, Pittsburgh.
• Pepsuber?
• Touchdown Arizona. It's a one-possession game at 20-14. Seven minutes to play.
• Cardinals making a come-back? Warner starting to pick apart the pass coverage.
• Coke Zero take-off of old Mean Joe Greene ad at least funnier than what we've been subjected to thus far. Cash4Gold ad with Ed McMahon and M.C. Hammer humorous (especially Ed's "Goodbye, old friend" line).
• Fourth quarter. Would sure like to see Warner and company make it a game, but the penalties are killing them (91 yards worth so far).
• More ads: Transformers (bleh); Career Builder (not bad); Heroes (the football version with Elway, et. al. wasn't bad earlier on). Liked the insects taking off with the Coke bottle (my girls liked that one, too).
• Dumb penalty (running into the holder) against the Cardinals gives Pittsburgh the ball back with four downs on the 5-yard-line. Cardinal defense holds but Steelers score, making it 20-7 Pittsburgh.
• First round of second half ads: Coke: Avatar; Bridgestone: Hot Item; Denny's: Thugs; Monster: Need a New Job? Did everybody just spend money on ad space instead of the ads themselves? Lame.
• Well, I give the Boss an A- for great sound and energy; only thing I would have changed is Bruce playing less to the camera (the dialogue with Stevie seemed a little contrived, as did the stageslide into the camera). Still, a rockin' performance.
• Listening to "Workin' on a Dream" now - first time I've heard it. Catchy, but it sounds a little too Boomer-ish for me. Now we're talkin': "Glory Days." Man, the band sounds great (Bruce, too).
• "Born to Run" - that's more like it (albeit a shortened version). My six-year-old just told me, "Dad, you should be doing that." In another life, maybe.
• Okay, Springsteen's on with "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out." Why start with his guitar on, but then toss it (literally) before the end of the second bar? Horns sound good.
• Wow. Harrison's 100-yard interception return for the Steelers is not how the Cardinals wanted to end the first half. Can't believe he stayed in bounds all the way (they're now reviewing). Steelers up (at least for now), 17-7.
• Signal's back. Not sure Pixar's next film, Up, appeals all that much to me. Cardinals intercept with two minutes to go before halftime. Bring on the Boss. 
• Missing the current batch of commercials due to the train running by our house (for some reason, it leaves us with either a scrambled frozen picture or a black screen with a "No Signal" in a blue box). Guessing I missed nothing, or (more likely) the best ad of the evening.
• Cardinals score, making it 10-7. Two great throws by Warner (despite almost biting it on the TD throw). Surprised by how much older Tiger Woods looks in the Gatorade commercial (guess age is catching up with him as well).
• Beginning of second quarter. Will Ferrell in Land of the Lost? Sad. Looks like they didn't even try to tap into the 70's retro-coolness of that show from my youth. Actually laughed at Pepsi's "I'm Good" ad, but the female ten-and-under crowd are digging the Budweiser Clydesdales. Steelers up 10-0. 
• Steelers up 3-0. So far, the "Refresh" Pepsi commercial is decent, but the Bud Light commercials have blown chunks. I never thought the "Drinkability" campaign was all that strong in the first place, but it's certainly not when they try to make it Super Bowl funny.

Summarizing on a Saturday

I recognize the past week has been less than impressive in terms of original content. Here's an attempt at righting that wrong:

1. As I see it, the selection of Joe Biden as Barack Obama's running mate makes a lot of sense...in the short term. Biden personifies age and diplomacy more than Obama does, and his infamous tongue will serve well in swatting away John McCain's attacks, thereby letting Obama do what he does best in focusing on the positive. Long term, though, the Democrats are going to be stuck after eight years, as no one's going to elect Biden because of his age, and I don't think even Hillary will be in the picture by then (though I still wouldn't count her out in this race - stranger things have happened).

2. If McCain chooses Mitt Romney, I think he's done. The two don't even like each other, and both bolster the "rich, white guy" stereotype that unfortunately marks the Republican party. Maybe this is why Romney is actually a VP possiblity - it sends a message to the conservative base that McCain really is one of them - but that's not going to be too motivating to moderates and undecideds weary of the stereotype. Picking Romney doesn't seem very much of a maverick move for the Maverick, but I'm not sure who else in the Republican party would be. How about Ron Paul?

3. With the Olympics finishing up tomorrow, I have mixed feelings about these Games in China. My hope is that, through all the interaction with other countries and greater exposure to democracy, something would stir in China that, down the road, would bring real change to the lives of her citizens. My fear, however, is that any such seed will be rooted out, no thanks to the softened stance of mainstream American journalists (particularly NBC, who patronizingly broadcasted the Games) and the IOC's UN-like oversight of the whole spectacle in general. It will be interesting to see what comes of the investigation of China's women's little girls' gymnastics team, and what the world's response will be to the verdict (if indeed any is given).

4. I register for fall classes at Covenant this coming week, and then start the following Tuesday. I wish I had a little more of a breather between my summer course and the beginning of five new hours this semester, but I don't get to vote. If all goes well, I should finish a master's in theological studies in May of 2009 (that's this coming spring!) and a master's in educational ministries in May of 2010. Neither is that far away, but it still feels like miles to go before I sleep, as these folks must similarly feel.

5. Speaking of sleep, I have an uncanny ability to get some. I swear I was asleep twenty seconds after my head hit the pillow every night this week. My co-teacher, Larry Hughes, says I must have a clear conscience; I assure him it's just that I'm tired.

6. I really like my classes at Westminster, and boy howdy, is it ever easier doing this the second time around. Whereas the first year seemed so much like walking in the dark and trying to teach something along the way, this year would seem to be the one in which I really figure out what exactly I'm teaching and the best way to teach it. I've got a great schedule, some cool kids (ones I've had and ones I haven't), and I'm pretty pumped about taking bigger steps this year toward being a great teacher.

7. The new header above is not final. My friend, Kent, is playing with a couple design ideas after some feedback I gave him on the one above, so I should have the final one up soon. Hang with me.

I've got pictures and smoke detectors to hang, a few books to finish, and some email to catch up on this weekend, so I'll wrap it up. If you're still around, thanks for reading.

Summer Plans

My friend, Ed, asked for a post on what summer holds. Here it is.

1. I'm one of seven Westminster teachers taking 28 high school students on Summer Seminar to South Dakota for two weeks in June. Over the course of a 12-day trip to and through the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota, students will explore the theme of “shalom” (restoration) through three, two-day course cores in literature, ethics, and science. The culmination of the course will be a writing project that integrates a travel journal, a guided project (literary analysis of readings, poetry, photography, etc.), and their understanding of the Christian worldview (I'm in charge of this "integration" part). Should be fun.

2. Speaking of Westminster, I'm hoping to take a half-day a week to work on my teaching. I've kept a semi-detailed calendar of what I covered (either intentionally or unintentionally) each day this past school year, and I'd like to give that some evaluation and attention in order to figure out what I actually taught and how to do it better. Armed with some honest feedback from my students and revised scopes and sequences from the Bible department, I want to put some good work into how to teach as a more effective translator.

3. In addition to thinking about teaching, I'll be participating in a class offered by Covenant titled "Spirit, Church, and Last Things" online this summer. After my experience with Ancient & Medieval Church History this past semester (good class, but I wasn't as consistent as I wanted to be in keeping up), I'm not all that thrilled about online learning, but you do what you've got to get in the classes you need to finish a degree.

4. I've got piles of books from a variety of genres that I want to read. Personally, I'd also like to get back to more devotional reading and journal writing as, for better or worse, the blog has taken over the time I have in the past done both, and I can feel the difference in heart and hand. There's just no replacement for meditative reading and writing, but I've not done much of either for a long while. Oh yeah, I'm also supposed to be writing/finishing the first draft of a book this summer.

5. I'm working on some leader development training and initiatives for Memorial for this summer and fall, and hope to do some planning/recruiting for those. Unfortunately, this is an area that got bumped to the back burner this past school year because of my first year teaching, but I'm glad for the request and opportunity to still be involved in this way a year later. I think our family is also going to start attending a small group over the summer, which should be interesting (I'm not really much of a small group guy).

6. While I've not really gained any significant weight, I'd like to shed some pounds and actually get back on an exercise regimen of some sort. For whatever reason, I just enjoy exercising my brain much more than I do my body. Guess I'm just too Neo-Platonic for my own good.

7. We may get some tickets to a couple Cards games in July - just when it's hot enough to really be miserable. I imagine I'll do a fair amount of yard mowing, grilling, and sweating this summer, not to mention cursing the I-64 construction still going on (it will be interesting to see how increased tourist traffic during the summer months affects things; so far, we've managed, but it's getting old).

8. We'll also make a few weekend trips to the farm over the summer, as there's nothing better than sitting with a cold glass of iced tea out on the back patio listening to the corn grow. I'm sure there will be pictures.

9. While buying a house and moving is, I suppose, still a possibility over the next couple of months, the further we get into summer, the less excited I'm going to be about it. Obviously if the bank warms to our terms soon, we're not going to walk away from things, but we're not exactly going house-hunting either.

10. Of course, the best part about summer will be being home more with Megan and the girls - playing in the backyard, going to the library, reading books, renting and watching a flick, seeing friends, and just being a family. We've tried to keep formal activities for the little ladies to a minimum, so we're hoping it will be pretty laidback. I want/need to read to them more at night (Megan's been handling most of that all school year), as I don't want to miss the window here - they're all just growing up so too fast.

In a nutshell, that's our summer.

Coach's Couch

After an opening six-game homestand, the St. Louis Cardinals are 5-1, winning two of three from the Colorado Rockies and sweeping the Washington Nationals by way of (surprise) great starting pitching and an offensive line-up that's finding the gaps in the outfield.

In my mind, the biggest liabilities the Redbirds have are its middle relief (to quote my friend, Nick: "Isn't Russ Springer, like, 50?") and perhaps too good of a start to the season (pardon my pessimism, but I'm bracing for a bit of a letdown on the upcoming roadtrip, which will be lousy since we're playing the likes of Houston and San Francisco).

Still, after watching my first game of the season this afternoon (we don't get FSN Midwest, so we can only watch games on KSDK - usually Sunday afternoons), I must admit it was fun seeing the Redbirds play today. It felt like good, honest baseball, and here's why:

• The new guys (and there are many) are all still fighting for jobs, realizing that part of their evaluation includes their attitudes; in my opinion, traded veterans like Scott Rolen and Jim Edmonds did more whining than playing over the course of the past few years, and that got old fast


• From what I've read, most of the players seem to have their heads screwed on straight and are still in awe of making it to the big leagues; gone are the likes of Scott Spiezio and the late Josh Hancock, who sadly let baseball become something they did between drinks


• We're playing who we have and not pining for who we don't; in other words, because of the early success, there are fewer laments along the lines of "If we only had (insert favorite Cardinal on the DL here)," which has huge mental implications for those in the starting line-up (not to mention the fans)


• Statistically speaking, we've yet to allow a team to score in the first three innings of a game; it's amazing how much this plays to Tony La Russa's coaching strengths (he's better with a lead than without one, though he's not bad then, either)

Can the Cards win 100 games this year? Most have said it's doubtful, but I wonder, especially if they can play the game as kids just happy to be here rather than as free agents looking for their next contract. We also need to get El Hombre in sync (strangely, he's had a slow start, though he's still batting .353 and is on base over half the time from walks), as he's key to keeping the younger guys in line, both on and off the field.

I'm taking the ladies to our first game on the 18th, as the Cards host the Giants (it's Anheuser-Busch Wall Calendar Night - woot!). I'm sure we'll all have a better feel even then for where the season may really be going.

Any readers who are Redbird fans? What have I missed?

Play Ball!

The Cardinals officially open their season at home today against the Colorado Rockies. I'm interested to see how much all the off-season changes (and there have been many) pay off, particularly the much-mentioned bringing up of "homegrown" players from within the system. We still have no pitching (a starting rotation of five righthanders?), but it's baseball, so it can't be all bad.

Now if somebody could get something done with Crater Ballpark Village, St. Louis might be taken seriously as a city with an actual downtown. Here's what it's supposed to look like if it's ever finished (er, started); here's what it looks like now (and has for a year-and-a-half). While the city decides what to do, can somebody at least sod this eyesore so families can picnic before a game?

Play ball!

Mizzou-Rah

My college roommate at Mizzou and TwentySomeone co-author, Doug Serven, blogged his thoughts concerning the big Missouri/Oklahoma game this weekend. Doug is an R.U.F. campus pastor at OU, so he feels some loyalty tension, but as his feelings about Missouri football are mine (and as his blog doesn't have permalinks - come on, Serven!), I'm posting them here.

I have struggled over what to write about the Missouri Tigers. They are the number one football team in the nation. This happened last in 1960, and they promptly lost that game to hated KU. I don't even like typing those letters in a row.

So it's huge. I've suffered through almost 20 years of personally caring about Mizzou. The football team was 3-8 all four of my years there. I saw most if not all of the homes games in person. I was taught to have extremely low expectations.

They continued this trend through the nineties, except for a brief bright spot with Corby Jones at quarterback and Larry Smith as coach. I remember Julie and I went to homecoming while we were in seminary, and Mizzou was playing Texas. That seemed like a stupid choice to me, and I was prepared for another loss. But they won! I couldn't believe it. They went to a bowl game that year, and it had been a long time. I think they lost.

Brad Smith was supposed to be the next big deal. He was really, really good, but then we'd lose to KU in the last game and tank out in a bowl. I couldn't watch anymore. I think this season is the first time I've watched a whole game from start to finish. It was just too painful.

So there hasn't been much to cheer about. I went to the OU game here, and I felt conflicted. I have grown to appreciate and enjoy the Sooners. I like to cheer for a team that wins sometimes, and they win often. It hurt me when they lost to LSU and USC in those championship games. So I stood there and was confused. But, as Mizzou had the lead at the start of the fourth quarter, I knew I wanted them to win.

And they lost. It ended up not even to be that close, since Mizzou scored in the last minute to close the gap to 10 points. But I was glad OU won. They had a chance to play for another championship. Until they pooed down their leg in Lubbock (another game I attended).

So now: is Mizzou the best team in the nation? I doubt it. But someone has to be there, and no one else has held it or seems to want it. So it might as well be the Tigers. OU fans are spoiled to be sure. But I'm rooting for MU; if they win they will play for a national championship! If they lose, I'm sure I'll hear about it.

But remember this: it isn't Texas; it's Mizzou. They aren't your natural rivals. Be happy for them if they win. After all, they're your second favorite team.

Go Tigers.

Lemonade Concessions: Baseball's Underbelly

I took my five-year-old to the Cardinals game tonight. We had two free tickets (courtesy of the St. Louis public library system), right behind home plate in the upper deck - nice.

We took the train from Brentwood to downtown, found our way up to section 451, and decided to get a lemonade as our one treat of the evening. The girl working the stand was very nice and told me the prices (which were not very nice). Sensing my hesitation at plopping down $6.50 for a lukewarm lemonade (complete with souvenir cup), she said she'd "work something out" by giving us a refill if we wanted one "all because of the little lady" (i.e. my daughter, who played the part and smiled adorably).

While I usually consider myself pretty shrewd when it comes to reading people, I somehow missed it on this one. Taking her at her word, I gave her $6.50 for a lukewarm lemonade (complete with souvenir cup), told her I'd be back in a couple of innings, and we made our way to our seats.

Three innings later, I went back to the stand with cup in hand. Because I didn't want to get the girl (she was probably all of 20) in any trouble in front of other customers, I made sure the stand was empty before I approached, put my souvenir cup on the counter, and asked her if I could have the promised refill. Sure, she said; no problem.

As she prepared the second lemonade, I made small talk, observing that it must be a lot nicer working games in the cooler temperatures of September than the beastly weather we had in August, to which she smiled and agreed. Then, as she put on the lid and gave the lemonade a shake before handing it to me, I mentioned how much I appreciated her "working something out" with the refill, wondering to myself if I should give her a tip or something because she was about to give me a two-for-one deal.

I didn't have to wonder long; all of a sudden, the smile was no more and it was business as usual. The girl put the second lemonade on the counter, stuck out her hand, and said I owed her $3.25. I balked, realizing I'd just been had.

Pausing, then pulling out my wallet, I let my disappointment and disapproval come out a bit more than I would have liked: "It would have been nice to have known you were going to charge me on the front end." Her silence confirmed her initial intention to "work something out"; namely, that I would come back and pay $3.25 for water, ice, and a lemon (minus a second souvenir cup). What a deal.

Realizing I was in the presence of Vegas-like genius, I paid her the money, grabbed my second lemonade, and staggered back to my seat, spending the next three innings dumbfounded at how I had just been had in a very legal way. My daughter enjoyed the second lemonade, which helped, but I was still reeling from somehow missing the free refill bait and switch.

To make matters worse, the Cardinals lost, 13-11. Worst of all: because it was a school night, we had to leave at the end of the fifth inning when the Redbirds were losing 7-0 (yes, for those keeping track, that's 17 runs we didn't get to see).

Thankfully, though, we did make it home with our $9.75 plastic souvenir cup.

Saturday Smatterings

Some links for an overcast, rainy Saturday:

• Disappointing stuff with Rick Ankiel and HGH. Thankfully, Bernie Miklasz (as always) calls it like it is.


• Reggie Kidd's post on bickering in the PCA is overwritten but powerful.


• Beware of microwave popcorn several times a day. Several times a day?


• Just in case anyone was wondering if you can make a living writing books, Susan Wise Bauer enlightens us.


• Apparently, more people are hoping for girls than boys these days. Maybe we should start a consulting service.


• Seriously, how do you "lose" a 70-pound tortoise?


• I'm not sure the affliction of saying stupid things in public is limited only to town meetings. This is hilarious.

Hot Time in the Cool Town Last Night

It's the first beautiful weather weekend in at least a month. Apparently, St. Louis had the third hottest August on record this summer, and we've been here for a majority of it. All this made made last night's Cardinals game with my three youngest that much more enjoyablem, as it was an absolutely perfect evening complete with low temps and a cool breeze. We had a great time watching the Redbirds pull up to .500 ball, a place they've not been since April 15th.

Despite my lack of faith in July, manager Tony LaRussa, along with a couple key younger players in Ryan Ludwick, Brendan Ryan, and especially Rick Ankiel, have really surprised me. Now just a couple of games out of the National League Central, the Redbirds have the most momentum of any team at the start of this September. It would be fun to make the playoffs again.

In other sports news, this weekend Mizzou beat Illinois 40-34 in the Arch Rivalry game last night at the Edward Jones Dome. This may not seem that big a deal on the opening day of college football (especially compared to the Appalachian State upset of Michigan), but having spent two years in Marching Mizzou back in the early 90's, trust me when I say it's not everyday Mizzou alum get to take pride in their football team.

As the girls and I left Busch Stadium last night, downtown St. Louis was packed with folks wearing Mizzou black and Illinois orange, as well as all the fans wearing Cardinal red. It was fun to see the city so alive and to be with three lively and lovely ladies to enjoy it.

Stick a Fork in Us

We're done.

On Barry Bonds and Baseball History

It's been a while since I've talked a little baseball, so with the All-Star Break upon us and the season being half over, I thought now might be a good time. My Cardinals have been playing better, but I was hoping they'd have made it back to .500 by now. According to the PECOTA version of the postseason odds at Baseball Prospectus, the Cards have less then a 2% shot at making the playoffs while the Milwaukee Brewers have an 85% chance (hat tip: Viva El Birdos). In short, it doesn't look good, but there's still half a season left.

It was interesting reading the buzz generated by Barry Bonds and the San Francisco Giants coming to town this past weekend. Bonds is only five away from breaking Hank Aaron's all-time homerun record of 755 and, up until last week, Cardinal fans were deathly afraid he was going to do it in St. Louis. The overratedly "classy" Cardinal Nation booed Bonds every time he came to bat because of the whole steroids thing, which seems incredibly hypocritical considering their once-beloved Mark McGwire all but confessing in a congressional hearing a couple years ago to his own steroid use in breaking the one-year homerun record in 1998.

But I digress.

I don't particularly love or hate Bonds as a player, but I do wonder how baseball history will judge him. This passage from David James Duncan's The Brothers K, in which one character writes of the rise and demise of Roger Maris, would seem to apply:

"Insofar as the word 'radical' implies a drastic departure from accepted thinking and practices, it is only accurate to say that this crewcutted all-American Midwest farm boy (Roger Maris) was in fact the first famous radical of the Sixties. Who but a radical would sacrifice all-around excellence to focus on a single, iconoclastic facet of his experience? Who but a radical could earn so much antipathy from the meat-and-potatoes populace for so little reason, but still go on choosing public misery for the sake of his cause?

As this increasingly two-dimensional, nerve-powered, lifetime .260 hitter mounted his anxiety-ridden assault on the most famous feat of the three-dimensional, muscle-powered .342-hitting bon vivant whose bat built Yankee Stadium, even the most rabid New York fans began to feel that something odd was going on. Mickey Mantle also hit a lot of home runs in 1961 - fifty-four of them, in fact. But the contrast between his and Maris's homers was vast.

The Mick was just a canonical hero on a roll - a contemporary legend in chivalrous competition with legends of the past. Maris was a new kind of creature altogether. If Ruth was the Sultan of Swat, Maris was the Technician of Boink. For the sake of these boinks he had virtually given up the game of baseball, or at least given up the all-around game he'd played better than anyone just a year before. And the trouble that resulted was, in a sense, the same trouble into which the entire industrial world has fallen: obession works. Not beautifully, and not without tremendous costs. But for Roger E. Maris it worked sixty-one times.

Numbers, for all their vaunted accuracy, can be amaingly inaccurate little doodads. When Ruth's record finally teetered and fell, Maris found that in the opinion of many he hadn't scaled a height or conquered a legend at all: he'd become an object of dislike. Many people felt and even behaved, as if he were more the assassin of a legend than a conquering hero. When the Holy Relic Manufacturers trotted out their '61 in '61 trinkets, the stuff wouldn't sell; when the kids took to the sandlots the following spring, they went right on pretending they were Mantle and Berra and Mays; when Maris himself began his '62 season in a slump, the fans booed his game and emotions into a complete collapse; and when the Yankees traded him away to St. Louis, instead of retiring his number, they casually handed it to Graig Nettles a few years later."

This is why St. Louisians love Stan "the Man" Musial - he did it all (offense and defense), year in and year out. Bonds and McGwire may hold homerun records (albeit with asterisks because of steroids), but guys like Mantle and Musial (or for a more local and contemporary example - Albert Pujols) tend to garner more honor over the long haul for their overall quality of play.

On Josh Hancock

At the risk of perhaps stepping on a few St. Louis toes, I wanted to contribute a few thoughts to the ongoing discussion surrounding the death of Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock last weekend. I would have done this earlier, but time did not allow. I also wanted to wait for the police report before throwing something out here not substantiated by the official investigation. On the backside of that investigation and report, my perspective has not changed.

Living in St. Louis, I've been amazed by the outpouring of sentiment from what is called (annoyingly so, in my opinion) "Cardinal Nation". People have created makeshift memorials and left flowers outside of Busch Stadium; you would think everyone actually knew the guy and just had him over for dinner during the last homestand or something. Though I appreciate the show of sympathy/empathy for Hancock, his family, and the Cardinals organization, the depth of it seems questionable to me, and mostly a function of Hancock being semi-famous.

While I respect the Cardinals as being one of the better organizations in baseball, I have been intrigued by how much of a hero they seem to have made Hancock. Granted, he was on the team and part of the Cardinals "family" (one of the most overused and misdefined terms of the past week), but would the Cardinals have done half as much of the public memorializing that they have if Hancock had actually killed someone driving drunk a week ago? Would a victim's family have stood for that? Would the public? Are you kidding me?

Listening to the first half of the press conference on the radio yesterday, I was once again reminded how hypocritical the media (as well as our country) is when it comes to issues of morality. Immediately following the Cardinals' opening statement, multiple reporters in the room began asking about the team's alcohol policy for the clubhouse and on the plane. The implication of the questions was clear: the Cardinals (having once been owned by Anheuser-Busch and still playing in Busch Stadium) must have contributed to Hancock's death in some way, and surely you're going to do something about that to protect "young" ballplayers like the 29-year-old Hancock (who also happened to be an adult). Since when does the media care about morality, legislated or otherwise?

Though the Cardinals did not allude then to any need to make changes in their current policy (Hancock, after all, was drinking at Shannon's, not at Busch), in this morning's Post-Dispatch, I read that the team caved to the pressure with a "CYA" move, pulling alcohol from the team's clubhouse (though not from the visitor's clubhouse), as well as choosing not to serve alcohol on return plane trips since players would be driving home from the airport. Are they going to stop handing out marijuana in the clubhouse and on the plane as well? Oh, wait a minute - Hancock (again, a 29-year-old adult) somehow got that all by himself.

I realize I may sound somewhat cynical, but I have yet to hear anybody raise these questions in the midst of the swirl of emotions surrounding Hancock's death. I don't mean any disrespect to Hancock or his family and I'm sorry he died, doing so with so little personal resolution in his areas of addiction. I'm sorry for the Cardinals and the hurt their personnel have experienced in the midst of what is (so far) their worst start as a team since 1990. I'm sorry for the fans - particularly the young ones, who are again having to understand that, as glorious a game as baseball is, those who play it can be not so much.

But most of all, I'm sorry we live in a fallen world that still believes the lie that morality covers a multitude of sins. Last I checked, that was still love's job.

Take Me Out to the Build-A-Bear

We, along with 50 other friends and acquaintances who benefitted from Megan's Ticketmaster-like talents (minus the service charge) are due to go to our first Cards game of the year tonight. Unfortunately, I'm concerned rain may spoil our fun: there's a 40% chance of precipitation forecasted for both today and tonight, and while that's less than 50/50 odds, it's in situations like this that we always and inevitably come out "winners".

The girls are pretty pumped to go, and Megan's parents are in town from Tulsa to go with us as well. We'll take the Metro in to avoid traffic and feel urban, as well as cart in all the drinks and goodies we can to avoid spending anything at the stadium (though I'm not a beer drinker, the principle of an $8.50 Bud Light is immoral, so this is our family's little personal protest).

In addition to taking in the game (or the rain - whichever we get to watch), the girls have gift certificates from the grandparents for the Build-A-Bear Workshop that they've been holding on to since Christmas and plan to redeem to "build" their very own "Cardinal Bear" (which seems more than a little confusing in terms of the scientific classification system of animals).

As you might be able to tell, I'm not all that excited about the prospect of four more stuffed anythings in the house (you'd think I'm a taxidermist with as many stuffed animals as we have around here). But, at least they'll be enduring symbols of the little ladies' pre-pubescent loyalty to the home team (or that's what they'll tell me when we're standing in line for half-an-hour missing the one inning in which the Cardinals actually score a few runs...).

Opening Day 2007

Baseball opens today, April 1st (no foolin'). Cardinals host the Mets tonight at Busch. Glory. In honor of the occasion, here are two favorite quotes about the greatest game ever invented:

Terrence Mann (played by James Earl Jones) in Field of Dreams:

"Ray, people will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. 'Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around,' you'll say. 'It's only twenty dollars per person.' They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack.

And they'll walk out to the bleachers, and sit in their shirt-sleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game, and it'll be as if they'd dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.

People will come, Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Ohhhhhhhh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come."

Fox Mulder (played by David Duchovny) from The X-Files:

"I'm reading the box scores, Scully. You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers. I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same."

If those aren't enough to get you excited about 162 games between now and October, read artist Makoto Fujimura's experience with Cardinal baseball last summer (it's kind of long because of the Yankees references, but be sure to read to the end for the Redbird redemption).

Play ball!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I know, I know...too many baseball posts of late. But it's hard not to get excited, especially since we live in a city that will play host to some of the games later in the month (hopefully way later in the month). Granted, if I were a betting man (which I'm not), I probably wouldn't put many chips on our chances (same old story: pitching wins the World Series, and we don't have much), but you never know in baseball's "second season" - anything can happen.

Maybe it's because October is my favorite month or it's just the weather changing, but I love this time of year - with or without the playoffs (and even the World Series). The colors are beginning to appear, another bountiful harvest is taking place on our family farm, and people everywhere tend to enjoy the transition from summer to autumn. It's just a great time.

The beauty of it all, of course, is it's just better with baseball. One October several years ago, Megan and I watched nearly every playoff and World Series game Fox broadcasted. She always had some project she was working on; I was recovering from a long day at the Glen. We ate lots of popcorn, drank lots of Coke, and cheered both for and against the Yankees (let's be honest: you can't really love baseball and hate the Yanks - just something about those pin stripes...).

As it was last year, this October is going to be tricky for us to watch for a couple of reasons: one, we're too cheap for cable, so we don't get ESPN at all, and only get a fuzzy Fox in our basement apartment; and two, it's not like we don't have other responsibilities (studying, teaching, parenting) we need to attend to during the afternoons and evenings the games are on.

Still, the joy of baseball in October is that, if and when we have a spare moment (and can actually get the channel to come in), odds are there's going to be a baseball game on, one that a whole lot of people here in St. Louis (as well as throughout the country) are watching closely. Call us nostalgic, but this takes us back to when such shared experiences through one real-time medium made us feel more in touch with others than we sometimes do now.

So here's the question: Who are you picking to win the pennants and the World Series? Get your predictions in now. And go Cardinals.

Holding Our Collective Breath for the Redbirds

My oldest and I went to our last Cards game of the season on Thursday night, during which something (barely) resembling baseball was played by the home team. I'm not kidding: it was the worst major league game I've ever watched in person, as the Brewers beat the Birds, 9-4.

On Friday night, my sister, Jamie, and her family came down from Illinois to see the Cards whup up on Milwaukee, 10-5, complete with (another) Pujols homerun and a crowd that actually had a pulse after Albert resuscitated them. Jamie's family stayed with us last night after the game and, while I was a little jealous, I tried not to let it show.

Today, my second-born and I watched on TV the Cards beat (barely) the Brewers, 3-2, thanks to Scott Spiezio's bases-clearing triple in the bottom of the eighth and Jeff Suppan's solid pitching performance. (Note: I have no idea what La Russa was thinking unintentionally/intentionally walking the eighth batter to make the Brewers pull their pitcher for a pinch-hitter, who then promptly knocked in two runs. I like Tony, but sometimes I think he overthinks things.)

And now, I'm checking to see if the Braves finished off the Astros for us so we can rest Chris Carpenter on Sunday and save him for Tuesday night's first game of the playoffs against the Dodgers/Padres (if we make it that far) instead of having to clinch this silly division tomorrow.

Geez. You would think I'm a fan or something.

I Hate To Say "I Told You So..."

...so I won't. Instead, I'll let the guy at Viva El Birdos do it for me, as I've been saying this about the Redbirds all summer long (talk to Megan to verify - she's tired of hearing it by now).

The Sanity of Baseball

I almost cried at the beauty of this post at Baseball Analysts. Maybe it was the vintage 1962 picture or the almost cosmic convergence of all things baseball, but the sense that the world seemed a lot more sane then than now was almost too much to handle this morning. Call me a freak (or more accurately, an idealist), but this sense of sanity is what I love about baseball.

Thursday Links

I've got four of the last six reviews that are posted up at Writers Read. It must be a slow reading summer for the other writers (or maybe they're actually getting some writing done, which if so, I'm jealous). Anyway, if you're looking for a next book to read, check it out.

Speaking of writing, Megan has written 93 articles this month and is aiming for a total of 150 by the end of July for a website that both of us wonder if it's even going to exist. The woman is a machine (though a cuddly one at that), researching and writing five articles a day for weeks.

I've been working a lot this week on two major projects: the leadership development initiative (I need to find a new descriptor - "leadership development" is so overused) for Memorial; and lesson plans for teaching Old Testament to high schoolers this fall at Wildwood Christian School. Both have been a lot of fun and a lot of work, but this is "the jazz" for me.

I'm still looking for any of your recommended informative podcasts to subscribe to, so offer your recommendations here. I'll try anything once, as long as it comes with a seal of approval.

Finally, here's a new baseball site I came across today called The Baseball Analysts that makes me wonder if these guys might need a second hobby. And I thought I loved baseball...