Baseball, Fathers and Forgiveness

I recently finished reading my first John Grisham novel.  I suppose that’s a little surprising, seeing as I’m a legal professional who loves to read. But I’m not that big into “thrillers,” even legal ones. So, I guess it’s not surprising that my first Grisham would be his very non-legal, non-thriller short novel about baseball: Calico Joe.

Set in the 1970s, Calico Joe tells the fictionalized account of the events leading up to a fateful at-bat between two major league ballplayers: Joe Castle and Warren Tracey. Castle, a rookie for the Cubs with the hottest bat in baseball, faces off against Tracey, a veteran, but fading, pitcher for the New York Mets.  The story is narrated by Warren’s son, Paul Tracey, who was an avid 11-year- old baseball fan in the summer of 1973, the season of the notorious confrontation between his father and his idol.

Written from the vantage point of 30 years later, Paul recounts his childhood as the son of a professional baseball player, while giving the play-by-play of his present-day attempts to reconcile his father and Castle before Warren Tracey’s impending death of cancer. Warren is a hard man, arrogant and abusive, and his self-absorption destroys his relationships, particularly with Paul.  Warren’s not much different during Paul’s adulthood, though Warren’s cancer allows him the opportunity to finally voice his long-held regrets. In contrast, Joe Castle, or “Calico Joe,” is all a good sportsman should be: full of gentility and grace on and off the baseball diamond.

Paul’s boyish idolization of Castle puts him into a conflicted emotional state as Warren Tracey pitches to Castle in a Mets-Cubs game on August 24, 1973. Spoiler alert: in an act of sheer spite, Tracey “beans” Castle in the head, permanently injuring him and ending his professional baseball career. Thirty years later, Paul, who has since married and started a family, does his best to bring Tracey and Castle together for one sole purpose: to give his dad a chance to make at least one thing right in his life before he dies. Tracey and Castle do meet, and (spoiler alert), an apology is made by one and forgiveness is extended by the other.

Oddly enough, the character who gave me most cause for reflection by the novel’s end was the person telling it: Paul Tracey. There’s much to like about Paul. Though the product of a broken home, he’s caring, courageous, responsible, and a devoted family man. Paul is nothing like his father, something he takes pride in.  Much as the older brother viewed the prodigal in Jesus’ parable, Paul sees his father as the bad guy, the one who spoiled talent and relationships on a hedonistic existence. The reconciliation between Warren and Joe is, as far as Paul is concerned, an act of penance for Warren than an instance of restorative forgiveness. As for the chances of Warren Tracey trying to make things right with anyone else in his miserable life, Paul says “fat chance.” Ironically, while Paul can accept Joe Castle forgiving Warren Tracey for ruining Joe’s life, he will never forgive his father for ruining his.

Calico Joe ends with Paul satisfied with how things turned out between his father and Joe.  And despite the apparent resolution between Warren and Paul, it’s neither satisfactory nor really healing. Both men remain wounded and broken.

The most glaring unresolved relationship in the story, however, is the most important: that of each man with God. Warren never seeks God’s forgiveness, and ironically, just like his father, neither does Paul. Apparently secure in his own “good” life as an adult, a life without the mistakes of his father, Paul misses out on the forgiveness that could have redeemed and brought healing to them both. His own self-absorption in being the man who isn’t his father, makes him even more unlikely a candidate to find the forgiveness (and consequent healing) he desperately needs.

Calico Joe is a well-crafted tale, with substantive characters, and valuable insights, particularly on relationships between fathers and sons. But its most poignant lesson is that without Jesus, seeking, arranging, or even extending forgiveness is nothing more than another good, but empty, work. For without receiving the forgiveness of a just and holy God, each person’s at-bat on Judgment Day is sure to end in a strike-out. 

Photo credit by Matthew Stratton in creative commons. 

The Comeback

I’m not from Chicago. I’ve never even been to Wrigley Field. But this last Wednesday, I was as die-hard a Chicago Cubs fan as they come. Yes, I stayed up until nearly 1 am listening  to World Series Game 7 (baseball is, I think, the best sport to be broadcast over the air waves), hoping against hope that the Cubbies could pull out one more victory against the Cleveland Indians. And they did, in one of the most dramatic World Series games baseball aficionados could have imagined.

So, why, if I’m not a true Cubs fan, did I sacrifice sleep (and stable nerves) to wish them onto victory? Because I love comebacks, especially those made by underdogs. With 108 years since their last championship title, the Cubs were due for winning the Big One. Down in the series 3-1, they fought their way through three more games, two in enemy territory, to make baseball history. The Cubs’ comeback appeals to me, and I think to most people, because it gives us hope that things can be different, that the odds can be beat, and the tables can be turned. That sort of sentiment extends beyond the baseball diamond.

On the eve of Election Day, we Americans feel a lot like the Cubs. Donald Trump’s campaign slogan “Make America Great Again” has resonated with a lot of voters for good reason. The average American, no matter what his political affiliation, would like things to be different. We’re hoping that somehow the next four years might bring, among other things,  economic growth, racial reconciliation, the defeat of ISIS, and restored international prominence for our country. In other words, we’d like an American comeback.

As a Christian, it’s especially difficult for me not to be discouraged at the state of my country. America’s condition is beyond a simple presidential prescription. The very soul of our nation is sick; it needs spiritual renewal as only God Himself can bring. But it’s not just the body politic that needs the boost. The American Church, faced with the consequences of decades of losing its savor and hiding its light, is facing hostility and apostasy simultaneously. We’re down 3-1 in the series, and it looks like we’re going to be playing the next couple games at Progressive Field, not at Wrigley. We need a spiritual comeback—a revival.

But as much as I hope and pray for these political and spiritual comebacks, it’s me that’s most often in need of a second wind.  I assess my life, with all its facets, and find slumps where I want to see progress.  I consider what needs to change about my game and find the necessary work daunting.  I want to be a World Series champ, but the stats say it’s been awhile since I’ve been a serious contender.

Thankfully, God has good news for me, as He does for America, and for the Church. “Have you not known?” asks the prophet Isaiah. “Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, neither faints nor is weary. He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, but those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Comebacks are possible when we rely on God’s inexhaustible strength and trust in His never-failing care. Without that reliance and trust in Him, a true comeback won't ever happen. Some of the Cubs, I think, would suggest Isaiah’s playbook as the best comeback strategy. And as the 2016 World Series Champions, I think I’ll take their advice.