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Our youth group took a little excursion to Atlanta last week. They took me along with them, presumably to serve as a chaperone. We spent the day at Six Flags and the evening at Turner Field. Six Flags was fun, but I have to commend our Pastor to Students for scheduling our departure at 3:45. Always leave them wanting more. Besides, the Braves were playing the Astros and we needed to get to the stadium in time to grab a bite to eat before the game started.
Even though we were on a tight schedule, we stopped for a group photo before we entered the stadium. At this point, I realized why I was needed on this trip. The group had gathered around a statue of Warren Spahn for the photo. Standing all alone just a few yards away was Hammerin’ Hank Aaron. Well, a statue of him was standing just a few yards away. In the interest of history, I suggested the group change statues. Happily, the group indulged me.
Now, we have a wonderful photo with our youth surrounding the man who became the home run king by breaking Babe Ruth’s record for most home runs in a career. For what it is worth he is still the king as far as I am concerned. I have not watched any baseball this past week, so I have only heard reports that Barry Bonds hit his 756th home run. However, I did not actually see him hit it, therefore, I cannot really be sure that he did. Seriously, Bonds breaking Aaron’s record only serves to highlight much of what is wrong with major league baseball in particular, and pro sports in general.
Still, there is something special about spending an evening in a ballpark. We were in the upper deck for the game last week. We had a great view of the field and the park. Just across the aisle from our group was a young man who was quite animated. He had his ball and glove with him and he was constantly chattering, encouraging his Braves. As the game progressed, it became apparent that this young man was not just an overly enthusiastic fan. Rather, he was special.
There was another man with him — his father. He just sat there quietly watching the game and his son, camera in hand. Just watching them together, I could tell that coming to the ballpark was their thing to do. As I watched the young man enjoying the game, I imagined some of the challenges that he and his family must have faced through the years. Yet, there he was with his dad at a Braves’ game.
There, for an evening was an example of something that is right with baseball. A father and a son with special needs were able to do something they both enjoyed together. They were at the ballpark and all was right with the world. Watching those two watch the game was the best part of the game for me. I wonder how many games they have seen together. Whatever that number is, it is a number that means something.
Joy and peace,
Ed
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