Play Ball!

On any spring Friday afternoon in a small town in Iowa, there is a baseball game. It is for anyone who wants to play, who used to play, or who wants to sit, watch, and root for their favorite team. As for me, I used to play pee-wee ball. I was never very good compared to the other boys my age. I had severe allergies, so, therefore, my muscles were not as developed as theirs were. Since I couldn’t play like they did, the coach would have me run bases after he hit the ball in different locations on the field. Since that is what I practiced, I became good at base running.

But this story isn’t about me. However, I will add the fact that on game day, when we were wearing our jerseys, they would make me “Brady” sit to the left of the other bench warmer, whose last name was “Bunch.”

No, this story is about Harry Stamford. He played second base on the team opposing mine. Harry was good. Actually, he was an outstanding player. He seemed to be gifted in knowing where to put the ball in play.

In one particular game, I made it to second. Harry got mad because he barely missed the tag that would have thrown me out. Seeing his disappointment in himself, I began teasing and harassing him when I happened to look down, and I saw a tear in the base. I went on to score, but our team still lost. After the game, I asked my coach about the rip in second base. I asked, “What damaged second base, and why hasn’t it been replaced?” He immediately shushed me as he quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard me.

He leaned into me and said, “During a game about twenty years ago, Harry was on second base when all of a sudden, there was a flash of light, and something hit the bag, tearing it. Harry fell, and so the umpire called “time” to see if he was alright. He said something scraped the back of his leg. We raised his pant leg, and there was a bleeding scratch, so we bandaged it. Harry said he was okay with staying in. After the game, when I was gathering the bases, I saw the rip and reached in. I found a rock. I took it to the community college here in town, where the science professor identified it as a small meteor. Ever since that day, we have noticed that Harry’s baseball skills have improved, and he plays like a young man in his late twenties, but we don’t talk about it.” “Would you believe Harry is 79 years old?”

“Wow! That’s an amazing story, and no, I certainly had no idea he was that old.” After that day, I stopped heckling Harry anytime I was on second base. And I started watching him closer.

One afternoon, before the end of the season, I noticed Harry getting out of his car. He was moving very slowly, although he still had on his uniform as if he was going to play. I walked over to him and apologized for all of the times I had heckled him when on second base. He said, “It’s okay. Just part of the game.” I then took his arm to help him to his team’s dugout. I asked, “Harry, are you okay?” He sat slowly on the bench and replied, “I saw my doctor on Monday. He said I have a fast-moving cancer. He told me to get my affairs in order.” I knelt and said, “Harry, I am so sorry to hear that.” He looked into my eyes and said, “I will miss my wife, family, and grandchildren. I will also miss playing baseball, and maybe you.” I laughed and then told him I would be praying for him.

The other players showed up, and the game was about to start when one player on Harry’s team noticed Harry’s eyes were shut, and he was slumped over. One of the doctors in our small town came to the dugout and, after a few minutes, announced that Harry was gone. A silence grew over the ballfield as word got out. They laid Harry down on the bench, and his best friend went over the flagpole. He lowered the flag but then removed it and used it to cover Harry’s body. He told everyone that Harry was a veteran.

“Now what?” asked one of his teammates. His coach said, “I think Harry would want us to play ball, so let’s go out there and win this one for Harry,” and they did.

The following week, Harry’s funeral was held. There were a lot of people in attendance, and many spoke publicly of Harry’s life and how he had not only helped them in one way or another but also talked to them about God and always asked if they wanted to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Many of them said they did.

Some may look back and say that the meteor gave Harry Stamford some extra strength that day while he was playing second base. I would say that it was God who was so pleased with Harry’s life and witness that He blessed him with what he needed to do the things that he enjoyed.

If you have never accepted Jesus Christ, know that you can. He is waiting for you to accept his offer of forgiveness for your sins. With that begins a relationship that brings hope, encouragement, comfort, and guidance with the added bonus of eternal life. Along the way, you can ask for help with anything. Problems in life, relationships, and healing. Having a relationship with Jesus is the best thing you will ever do with your life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are real. So are heaven and hell. There are no other alternatives. Accept Jesus and truly live life.