My dad loved to watch baseball, and he especially loved the Atlanta Braves and he even more especially loved the great Hank Aaron. I have no idea how many Sunday afternoons I flopped on the big red and black pillow on the floor of our den and watched Atlanta Braves baseball with Daddy ... probably too many to count, I suppose. When we would travel to Georgia to see Daddy's family or to Florida on vacation, we drove through downtown Atlanta and would pass the stadium where the Braves played. And every single time, Daddy would put his hand on the car window and say, "Knock one out of the park for me, boys."
Perhaps it was my dad's love of baseball that spurred me to play softball for several years during my youth. I played on my church's team, and we were, if I do say so myself, quite good. Occasionally, I played third base, but most of the time, I was our team's resident second base gal. Now when I say that we were a good team, we really were a good team ... good enough that we won the area tournament several years in a row. And that was a big deal in our little town of Red Bank ... a really big deal. And because it was such a big deal, a few of us began to think that we were a pretty big deal and began to get sort of ... well ... sort of arrogant when it came to our abilities on the field. Looking back, I'm amazed that God waited as long as He did before He took me down a great big old notch, and I've never forgotten how He did it.
It was the third game of the tournament, and I was playing second base. Our team was ahead by three runs in the top of the fourth inning when a gal who was called "Killer" by her teammates stepped up to bat with the bases loaded and no outs. I don't remember the pitch that she connected with, but I do remember seeing the ball heading toward me as she whacked a powerful line drive. My arrogance shifted into overdrive as I yelled, "Mine, mine, mine! Double play!" to our shortstop gal on my right, more than confident that I would catch the ball, throw it to her and we would get two outs. What happened next will forever go down as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life ... I put my glove in front of my face as the ball flew toward me, and I missed it completely. But not only did I miss the ball, it hit me ... squarely in the neck ... hard. I remember dropping to the ground clutching my neck with the ball sitting on the ground in front of me while the other team scored four runs to go ahead and eventually win the game. Thankfully, it was a double elimination tournament and our team went on to take first place ... but to this day, I remember feeling completely responsible for my team losing that game.
Now back to my neck ... the ball hit me so hard that it left marks on my skin that matched the stitching on the softball. I had a big goose egg that took over a week to disappear, and the whole side of my neck became one gigantic bruise. My coach wouldn't let me play the rest of the game, and I had to sit on the bench knowing that my arrogance had wrecked my team's undefeated season. You can be assured that when I came back to play the following night, I was more than a bit humbled and more than aware that I wasn't the perfect softball player I thought I was.
This evening when I got home from work, I gulped down some dinner and headed out for a walk with Ollie the wiener dog. Some of you may remember me writing previously about how sometimes I stop and run in the field with Ollie on our way home, and over the last couple of weeks, I've discovered that Ollie loves, loves, loves to run through the leaves that are falling from the trees. Near the end of our walk, Ollie bolted into the field and immediately began to bark and hop toward me as he tried to get me to play. I couldn't help but smile at him ... he so enjoys playing and running and barking and rolling in the grass and the leaves. I took off after him and we ran back and forth in the field until I was out of breath. I leaned over and rubbed his head and told him I was pooped, and that's when the line drive hit me.
I don't have many low blood sugar episodes any more except in the middle of the night, but as I stood back up, my head began to spin and my palms began to tingle ... sure signs that my blood sugar was dropping. I was mentally griping at myself for not eating more dinner, for not bringing any snacks along with me, for running in the field with Ollie at the end of a fairly long walk ... and that's when a friend who was picking up her son from soccer practice saw me and Ollie and stopped to say hello. Even though I knew I had just been hit by a swift line drive, my pride and arrogance immediately kicked in when she offered to give me a ride home, and I said, "No ... I'm good." But as I tried to stand up and my head swirled, I remembered that night at the softball game, and I changed my mind. "I think I will let you take me home if you don't mind," I said as I tried to keep my legs from trembling. When we got to my house, I climbed out of her car and went straight inside and ate ... a lot ... and within a few minutes, the tingling in my hands and the spinning of my head had ceased.
You would think I would learn that God doesn't want me to be proud or arrogant ... you would think I would learn. "A man's pride will bring him low, but a humble spirit will obtain honor." Proverbs 29:23
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