Watching Baseball

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Watching baseball on television is not my idea of a good time. I constantly glance at my watch, wondering when the misery will be over.

But going to a baseball game, now that’s a different matter. I love to go to the ballpark and see the action up close and personal, rub shoulders with the crowd, and hope for a foul ball hit in my direction. So on Thursday May 20, I was at Turner Stadium with some clergy buddies for what turned out to be an epic baseball contest.

The Cincinnati Reds jumped out early to a decisive 8-0 lead. The Braves managed to eke out a few hits and crawled back to 9-3 by the end of the third inning. Then we settled in for a long afternoon of boring baseball, but I didn’t mind because I was sedated with a cup of glazed pecans, a greasy hot dog, and a $4.50 Coke.

Finally, the bottom of the 9th rolled around. I stretched and gathered my things. A lot of fans had already left. Three quick outs and we’d be on the road in time to beat the worst of the Atlanta traffic.

But wait! Hit 1, hit 2, hit 3! No outs! At least we were going out in style! A walk with the bases loaded. A run or two. Hope!

Still no one, certainly not I, saw the magnitude of the victory that was coming. With the bases loaded, local middle Georgia sensation, Jason Heyward--whose homer won the game the night before--struck out. The next batter, Brooks Conrad, amassed a 3-2 count. It looked like the Cincinnati pitcher was poised to smoke him. If that happened, one more out and the game was over.

But Conrad’s bat erupted with a crack that sent shivers down every spine in the stadium. The ball sailed for the left field fence. The Cincinnati fielder leapt high and touched the ball with his glove, just enough to tap it over the great divide. Home run! Conrad’s grand slam won the game and set the stands to shaking from fans delirious with relief and joy.

The moral of the story? Don’t leave the game in the 8th inning. And if a baseball game can create that kind of surprise and sensation in the bottom of the 9th, just think what God can do!

On Good Friday, Satan was gleefully thinking, “Game over!” Then on Easter morning, Jesus hit a walk away homer with the bases loaded. Satan shook his head in numb disbelief. He never saw that one coming. And if Jesus could come back to win a game so completely in the bag as that, Satan’s cocksure confidence was gone. In fact, it was worse than the Prince of Darkness thought. Easter was just the beginning because the God who raised Jesus from dead revels in surprise comebacks.

Forgive me if likening Easter to a baseball game offends. But that Thursday in Atlanta, with Turner stadium shaking in awed triumph at an impossible win, somehow the one made me think of the other.