Throwing it Back

Today I only caught a few glances at the Cincinnati Reds game against the Philadelphia Phillies. I wasn't expecting much, especially after a 22-1 loss the night before. Yet, the glances that I made in contact with the television definitely sparked something inside of me. Follow me along if you will.

It's the top of the 6th inning. The score is 3 to 0 Phillies. Jerry Hairston Jr. is on 1st base afer a single to left field. Joey Votto just flew out for the first out. Now Brandon Phillips comes to the plate. Phillips definitely doesn't have the strongest offensive statistics; however, his RBI total (56) leads the team.

It didn't take long before he would receive another two. One swing was all it took for a ball to be sent into right field for a homerun. I watched the pitch, watched the hit, watched the ball travel into the stands: not a big deal. Yet for some reason, I was glued to the television as I saw who caught the ball. A boy, probably around the age of 10 or 11 caught the home run ball while wearing his Philadelphia Phillies uniform.

I'd imagine it didn't take long for the cheers in his seating section, and the entire stadium to chant, "Throw it back, throw it back..." Especially considering that an opposing player hit the home run.

But the kid's just 10! If that. Every kid that goes to a major league ballpark dreams of the day that they can touch the same ball that major league baseball players have touched! It's a part of history. It's a moment that the kid will never forget.

I remember when I got my first game ball. It's so funny now, because it's honestly one of only two or three moments I remember from Riverfront (Cinergy) Stadium as a child. I believe I had to be probably around 8 years old at the time, and we had front row seats on the Cincinnati Reds side dugout. I remember telling the man to the left of me that I had never had a game ball from a MLB game, and how I always tried my hardest to have one. It seemed like two seconds later that the man (apparently fairly famous) got the attention of a few Reds players, and they handed me a ball as he explained to him that I had never had one.

What a moment! And now, this kid had the same opportunity as me, yet was presented with a different challenge. The ball he had always wanted was now his. Could you imagine how he felt?

"Throw it back, throw it back..." The chants grew louder, the television camera was pointed directly on him. I watched in anticipation. His father looking towards him didn't move--it was almost as if he was allowing his son to make the choice.

I turned the corner to glance at another television. The next picture on the tv was a ball on the outfield grass. Apparently the boy agreed with the chanters and threw it back. Was he peer pressured? Doubtful. His father gave him the decision, and in the moment of his answering he threw all he wanted onto the field. It was at that moment that he realized something far greater.

I'm a part of something far greater than just a ball: I'm a fan. I'm a single person in this big stadium. I'm a part of something bigger than I can imagine. The boy didn't settle for what he wanted. In his time of trial and tribulation- he prevailed. He made the decision on his own, and he realized that what he wanted, didn't necessarily have to make him happy.

I sit and I wonder what the world would be like if everyone could just understand the same mentality that the boy had. Everyone wants something. We all have cravings, and wishlists, and desires. We're looking to be the best out there, but I promise you nothing will ever crave our hunger. Nothing will satisfy us until we take the same perspective of the boy. You see, he was given a crossroad. Keep the ball or throw it back. We're given this crossroad everyday! Our crossroad is through Jesus Christ! Accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior and live, or condemn and live an eternal life in Hell.

I hope you realize today that you're given this crossroad throughout all of your life. It's your journey, and your choice to make. I hope you come to realize that the mentality of the boy lives in all of us: Every single last one of us.

Because when it comes down to it, a baseball is just a baseball. A father is just a father. A glove is just a glove. Until you realize that things really do come together for a reason. Then, and only then can you play catch with the Father.