Son, Life Ain't Fair -- (11.13.08)

“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Jesus hammers home this theme all in Matthew.

We were discussing this recently in our Sunday School class when I was struck by the dichotomy of it.
On the one hand, I find this concept to be re-assuring.

Before the days when anyone in public schools really gave a whole lot of thought about a child’s self-esteem, you had two team captains on the field (or court or wherever) picking from the whole group of us.

Fairly quickly the crowd would be winnowed down to the “special” kid, who spat on people and ran off; the foreign exchange student, who spoke no English that anyone could tell; and me, the fat kid.

And, inevitably, if the humiliation of being picked last weren’t enough, we would be “skins” and the other guys would be “shirts.”

Oh.. .joy.

So, the concept of the last shall be first seems pretty cool.

But then there is the balance of that.

Essentially, this saying could be summed up with: “You know, kid, life just ain’t fair.”

When I played Little League, one of the inviolate rules was that to play in the game, you had to come to practice.

Technically, that should be rephrased to be: You had a “chance” to play in the game. Because I came to practice every time they had practice. Most times, we practiced on the field just down from my house so I would grab my glove, my hat and my cleats, hop on my Huffy bicycle and head on down.

Usually, I would take my assigned spot in right field and wait.

Then we would be called in for batting practice, which, honestly, was the primary reason I was in the game at all.
As one lady told my dad: “Yore boy cain’t run and cain’t catch, but, dang, he shure can hit.”

So one day I’m out in my spot in right field daydreaming when the coach’s yelling startles me back to reality.

Turns out that our starting second baseman did not show up for practice and my reward for hitting the ball so well was that, if I showed I could play the position, I would start at second base at the next game.

Holy Crap! Second freakin’ base! How is that possible? I would be in the infield. One of the key players on the infield. The other infield starters gave me dirty looks but I didn’t care. Dadgum, I was playing second base! I couldn’t wait to tell my dad, my mom, my grandmother, and anyone else who would stand still long enough.

The coach began to pepper us with balls.

Number one rule in Little League? Keep everything in front of you.

This is easier said than done. You see the coach smack the ball and you see the ball speeding at you. Your natural instinct – the instinct of any highly-developed life form – would be to move out of the way.

If the ball hits you, it’s going to hurt.

But I stood my ground. Nothing – and I mean nothing – was going to get by me.

The coach peppered me with balls for what seemed like an eternity. And when he got tired, the assistant coach came in.

I caught balls in my glove. I batted them down with my bare hand. I blocked them with my legs. I blocked them with my chest. I blocked them with my back. I blocked them with my feet. I dove. I leaped.

We practiced infield pop-ups. We practiced turning double plays. We practiced throwing runners out at home plate. We practiced backing each other up.

It was an absolutely amazing day and by the end of it I was beat to hell. Bruises covered me. But I didn’t care. I was playing second base. I was on the infield.

I could hardly contain myself.

I jumped on my Huffy and pedaled home as fast as my legs could carry me.

I rushed in the house and announced it to anyone and everyone – I was going to play second base this Saturday. Second freakin’ base!

The day for the game arrived. It was away – probably in Speake or Town Creek – so my mom drove me to the field.

We got there. I jumped out, ready to take my spot at second base for practice. That’s when I saw him. The starter. He was out there with the coach fielding grounders.

I walked up and when I saw the coach turn to greet me, I knew how this was going to end.

“Pippen, well you see he showed up. He’s the better player so you’re going to have to sit this out.”

Well, dang.

“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

Yeah, yeah, I know.