Commentary: The Gospel According to America’s Pastime

I was never a baseball fan. I dutifully played one summer of little league and collected baseball cards because that's what "good American boys" do to please their dads. One afternoon, I strolled into the home of one of my best friends and declared to her family—die hard Cubs fans all—that I hated baseball . . . while her dad and brother were watching a Cubs game, of all things.

With age and maturity, I came to admire Cubs fans. After all, anyone who can remain loyal to those "lovable losers" and maintain the sort of charm year after year that Cubs fans possess is worthy of admiration. As a fan of Cubs fans, I even traveled with my dear friends to Arizona for Spring Training in 2004, the year after the Cubs lost the NLCS. I did it for the fans.

My wife grew up listening to the Rangers with her father on WBAP, and when we were newlyweds, we lived close enough to the Ballpark we could hear the evening games. I never gained the same sort of appreciation for the Rangers, though, that I gained for Cubs fans, that is until . . .

Eric Black

In 2010, that year it became easy to get excited about the Rangers, my family moved back to Texas where I became surrounded once again by Rangers fans. Though I didn't watch many games, I did notice the shirts. You know the shirts, the claw and antlers. Rangers fans wore them everywhere, and I was so confused. What did they mean? Then, when the Rangers made it into the ALCS, I discovered what those strange shirts were all about. Every time a Ranger stole a base, they flashed antlers toward their dugout, and every time a Ranger made a good play, they flashed a claw to their teammates. It was infectious.

Then came poetic justice when Neftali Feliz struck out A-Rod to win the ALCS followed by the celebration I will never forget. When so many other teams celebrate with champagne, the Rangers brought out . . . Ginger Ale?! I almost wept when the announcers explained that the team, out of respect for Josh Hamilton and his struggle with alcohol, opted to include rather than exclude him by choosing to celebrate with Ginger Ale. There would be time for champagne later. I was very near salvation.

The Rangers did it all over again in 2011, this time with different hand signs that I still don't understand, and when they won the ALCS again, they brought the Ginger Ale out onto the field again to celebrate their second ticket to the World Series. Just as in 2010, the Rangers seemed to die out there on the field. It was pretty depressing, and Rangers fans wonder what will happen next year. It reminds me of how Jesus' disciples must have felt when their best chance at winning the kingdom just . . . died out there.

The following day, my son insisted that we go outside and play baseball. His grandfather and longtime Ranger fan reminded him the season is over, and I could feel the disappointment in my father-in-law's voice. My son didn't care. Again today, my son insisted that we go outside and play baseball, and I realize I have been converted by the faith of a child in the game. We had a ball, pun intended. Yes, the Rangers, with a little help from a child, have made me a baseball fan.

Why the Rangers, you might ask? Well, over the last two years, I have watched a professional team enjoy playing the game. They celebrated each others' accomplishments. They made no excuses for failures, nor did they shift the blame to a fellow teammate or their manager. They played with class and behaved with class. I also learned about Ron Washington's second chance, and I watched a news conference in which he talked about his failure and expressed his gratitude for the organization that extended him grace. The Rangers showed me why baseball is such a big deal.

I can't help but think if Christians followed Jesus the way the Texas Rangers play baseball, we would more accurately reflect Christ to a world wondering why the church is such a big deal. If we replaced moral failures with grace, if we celebrated each others' accomplishments, if we accepted blame, if we found ways to include everyone, and if we behaved with class, I think more people would see Jesus through the church. After all, that's why we "play the game."

—Eric Black is pastor of First Baptist Church of Covington.