For context about the story I'm about to tell, allow me to give you some background.
From the time I was a small child, I loved sports and competition in general. I especially got wound up if I were a participant as opposed to being a spectator. My "career" as a player began at age 8 when I started playing in the recreation leagues at Bloomfield Park in Lakewood, California. Flag football, basketball and baseball were the sports I played in those days.
I even remember the names of the teams I played on... the Falcons, Indians and Pioneers. We didn't have full uniforms... just team shirts but I cannot adequately describe the feeling of pride and invincibility I felt when I put on that shirt and looked in the mirror. And on game days... oh boy! I could not wait to get on the field or the court.
Just imagine the transformation of Clark Kent to Superman. That was me... minus the strength, the flying ability and the blue tights. But in my mind, when I put on that team shirt, I was ready to take on the bad guys, aka the opposing team.
So, that was my mindset and motivation growing up. The other piece of context necessary for the full picture was my life situation and circumstances at the time between the ages of 16 to 19.
I moved in with my brother, Bill and his wife in the fall of 1975. I was 16. I had escaped an undesirable home life in Iowa and landed in Norwalk, California. There is so much more I could say about this period of time but for the sake of brevity, I will focus on the details most pertinent to this story.
I started attending church at 16 and it became the focal point of my existence. Our apartment was right across the street from the church and with my brother on staff there, I spent an inordinate amount of time on the church grounds.
One of the first mentors I had as a young Christian was my youth director at the church. His name was Greg. He was a big guy, strong and athletic. Greg had a wonderful sense of humor and a big heart. I admired him greatly.
In the summer of 1976, when I was 17, we got together with a few churches for softball games. I mean, it was church team softball but that old spark of my competitive nature still burned strong! I looked forward to each and every game. I didn't care what or who it was... I wanted to win!
Youth Director Greg was a huge part of our team. Probably our best player. He could hit the ball a country mile and when he would throw the ball, you would swear that it was shot out of a cannon. He was a pitcher in high school and obviously had all the physical tools necessary for a gifted athlete. And he was very competitive in nature also.
In 1978, my brother was called to pastor a church in a neighboring city. After a couple months, I followed him there.
One of the first things I did at my new church, was to put a softball team together. Our church had a Christian school affiliate with some athletically talented high schoolers. Needless to say, I took full advantage of that resource to fill out my line-up.
As I organized the softball league for that summer, I wondered how it would feel to play against Greg and my old team. I don't know what it was but I had such a burning desire to beat my old team and we did just that. By the midpoint of that season, we were undefeated and I was having a blast with my new team.
So, we were 5-0, having beat all 5 teams that we had faced, we were set to begin the second half of the season where we would face the same 5 teams again. I don't recall who we were playing but I took notice that Greg was in attendance as a spectator. I thought it was cool that he was there, seemingly to watch his friends, my brother and me. What actually took place sort of blew me away.
In about the second inning, Greg was standing by the backstop, his hands gripping the chain link... actively rooting against us. I was floored. I was bewildered! I was hurt!
He kept it up for the entire game. To be fair and honest, he never said anything derogatory about us. He never criticized the umpire. He wasn't particularly ugly in his actions. But I really felt that he violated our friendship and our bond. Even if, for competitive sake, he wanted to see the only undefeated team (us) lose... he could have rooted for that outcome in the privacy of his mind.
During that game, between innings, my brother and I discussed and plotted our revenge. We decided that we were going to give Greg a taste of his own medicine during his next game and we did just that.
A few days later, Greg's team was playing and my brother and I were there, hands grasped onto the backstop and making a spectacle of ourselves, rooting for the other team. We were loud, rude, vocal and ruthless... um, at a "church" league softball game.
I'm sure Greg knew what we were doing and why we were doing it but the rest of his team, who had been our friends for years, seemed stunned and baffled. Understandably so. We didn't seem to care about them. We were on a mission and Greg's teammates were the collateral damage.
I felt enthused and locked into our mission until about the last inning... when I started to wonder what in the heck were we doing. After the game, we quickly got into my brother's car, before any of them could approach us and drove away. There was no, "We got him back!" we just drove in silence as the gravity of our actions settled in.
As the days and months passed, I tried to push the memories of that event out of my mind but found that task to be impossible. At times, in an effort to soothe my conscience, I would attempt to rationalize my actions but that tactic never worked. My guilty conscience haunted me.
I don't recall when and how... but at some point, I made an attempt at an apology to Greg but it seemed to fall flat. It was obvious that I had broken a bond that would never be fully healed. What I did was wrong, immature and very unchristian.
What did I learn from that situation?
1. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," says the Lord. Dabbling in revenge may feel good but as with any sin, it only feels good for a season. No matter how right and just it feels at the time, there is always a shelf life for that emotion.
2. Conversation Feeds Understanding. Why didn't my brother and I call Greg, after the game in which he rooted against us, and simply have a conversation. Why didn't we seek to gain greater understanding of his motives. Even if his explanation didn't satisfy us, at least we could have demonstrated character and integrity... which would have helped all three of us.
3. Guard Your Testimony. If you claim Christ, demonstrate Christ. Probably the most important lesson of this episode is that we came off as hypocrites to our faith. I mean, no Christian is perfect but just being a decent human is pretty low hanging fruit, is it not? I failed but I learned.
Regrets... I've had a few
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