In the next few paragraphs, I am going to use some common baseball terms and rules that I hope to clarify, but if that completely bores you to death, I beg you to stick with me. This post is not about baseball, but about something far more important.
The word “Take” in baseball means something very specific. You might hear a coach tell his batter to “Take the pitch.” “Take,” in this instance, can be loosely translated, “Under no circumstances are you allowed to swing the bat!” The pitcher might throw a perfect strike, but if the coach tells his batter to “take,” the batter should absolutely not swing.
There are any number of reasons why a coach would tell his batter to “take the pitch.” One reason was on full display at a tournament I helped run a few years ago. The team up to bat had a runner on first base and only one out. The coach wanted to get the runner to second base without the batter hitting into a double-play. So, he gave two signs. The first was to the runner: “Steal second base.” The second sign was for the batter: “Take.”
Only, the batter did not take. On the pitch, the runner ran to second base like he was told, but the batter swung, hitting a line-drive to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the line drive, meaning the batter was out. But because the runner on first base had stolen second base and couldn’t “tag-up” (another baseball-ism), the first baseman stepped on first base, rendering the runner out. With that double play, the inning was over.
Now, if you are not a baseball fan and those terms and rules are confusing to you, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the batter was told not to do something, but he did.
You should bear in mind that this was a meaningless tournament game among twelve year-olds. There were no college or pro scouts watching anybody play. There was no prize money up for grabs. It was an end-of-season league tournament and the only thing at stake was a cheap trophy they would probably throw away by the time they were in college.
And in this meaningless game, a batter missed a “take” sign and hit into a double-play. Incidentally, the batter was the coach’s son, and after the play, the coach met his son at the middle of the field, yelled at him for missing the sign, and then shoved him in front of everyone there.
His own kid.
He shoved his own kid.
A grown man shoved his twelve year-old son for missing a “take” sign in a meaningless baseball game.
I want to give this dad/coach the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe that he is an otherwise good parent and what we all witnessed was an outlier and not an accurate reflection of his character. I want to do that because I would hate for someone to make a final decision on who I am on the basis of one act. I want to believe that he first got into coaching because he loves his son, and in spite of this one moment of weakness, that love is still there.
I think about this event when I read Revelation 2:1-7. In Revelation, chapters 2 and 3 are a record of 7 letters written to different churches, where Jesus both celebrates what they are doing well and chastises them for what they are doing wrong. He speaks to Ephesus first, and his words might have fit perfectly on a youth baseball diamond.
I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil, but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned your first love….” (Rev. 2:2-4).
This church in Ephesus was clearly doing things that were worthy of celebration. They were mistreated but patiently endured. They did not tolerate evil within their ranks but exposed it. That was good! But whatever good they had done was being compromised because they had abandoned their first love. Unfortunately, Jesus didn't say what that “first love” is, and while speculation abounds, it probably has something to do with their devotion to Jesus himself. Maybe at one time, their patient endurance and exposing evil was a product of their first love and loyalty to Jesus, but they were careless and now their “good” has been reduced to empty habits. You don’t have to love Jesus to be a good person and do good things. Therein lies the warning: They were good people doing good things, but had forgotten the very reason why they worked so hard in the first place. They abandoned their first love.
I think about that every time a coach berates children for missing ground balls, pop flies, and “take” signs. I think about that every time a coach screams at an umpire for missing a call. I think about that every time a dad (it’s always a dad) gets ejected from a youth sports game.
Again, I want to give these parents the benefit of the doubt. No one gets involved in youth sports because there is glory to be found on the field of play. They certainly don’t get involved because the pay is too good to pass up. Parents volunteer to coach their kids’ teams for one reason only—they love their kids.
I want desperately to believe this dad who shoved his kid for missing a “take” sign—and countless more like him—first got into coaching because he genuinely loves his son. But shoving his son in a meaningless baseball tournament played by 12 year-olds reveals only one thing: He has abandoned his first love.
By the way, this truth extends far beyond youth sports. Good men and women first got into a profession because their work was good and they were good at their work. But the temptation to climb the corporate ladder seduced them and they abandon their first love. Civil servants run for office in the hopes of representing their neighbors with integrity. But the political machine and desire for power pulls them further away from their community and they abandon their first love. Even religious officials can follow God’s call into vocational ministry out of a deep desire to serve the Lord and feed his sheep. But in the allure for celebrity, they step on the very people they are called to serve and they abandon their first love.
Revelation’s letter to the church in Ephesus warns all of us—the President, the pastor, the parent volunteer—that none of us are immune to the threat of abandoning our first love. But it is also hopeful. As Jesus continues, he insists that this does not need to be the last word.
Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the works you did at first (Rev. 2:5).
It was not too late for Ephesus to return to their first love; Jesus’ warning gave them the chance to go back and undo the mistakes they had made. I pray it is not too late for this dad to return to his first love, and maybe reconsider whether or not he is the right coach for the job. He has a chance to return to his first love, heal what he has damaged, and renew a right relationship with his son. And I pray that those of us who have done the same would have the courage and humility to repent, admit our wrong, heal what we have damaged, and return to our first love. It is not too late.
Don’t miss the great irony. The coach who shoved his son first got into coaching because he loves his son. And now that he has shoved his son at the center of a baseball diamond for all to see, he has potentially destroyed the very love that motivated him in the first place. Baseball was the means by which he could share a loving relationship with his son. Because he abandoned that, baseball is now the means by which a loving relationship is in grave jeopardy.
If you are a youth sports coach, remember why you volunteered in the first place. Don’t destroy a relationship with the one you love because of a missed “take” sign, errors on the field, or an untimely strikeout. Hug your child. Buy him ice cream. Build up his character. When you are sixty, you do not want to sit alone on your couch with your son refusing to visit you on Christmas because thirty years earlier he didn’t perform to your expectations in a meaningless baseball game.
Parents, volunteer youth sports coaches, I beg you: Do not abandon your first love.
Today if you hear his voice, harden not your heart.
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