Category Archives: Sports

Whippersnapper Envy

Tonight at the table tennis club, I played two teenage guys who haven’t been coming to the club very long. I beat Ben the first time we played, back in October. But he improved very rapidly, and the next time we played, he beat me in a close match. Tonight, he beat me three straight. He zoomed right by me. That’s what the club does. You play guys much better than yourself, learn from them, and improve. Most guys, when they begin coming, experience a burst of quick improvement. That’s what happened with Ben.

Another kid has just started coming. He’s very scrappy, hard to play against. I beat him Saturday, 3 out of 5. But tonight, he beat me 3 out of 5. I’ve been playing much longer. But he’s full of energy, never tires, and has the confidence of youth. He doesn’t realize he’s not supposed to be able to beat me.

This really stinks. Especially since I remember, once upon a time, being just like them.

I went out for tennis in high school, my junior year. I started out as the number 9 player on the junior varsity team, and only the top 8 play in a match. In the first match of the season, I got to play someone from the other school after he had already played his real match. He was the other team’s number 3 player, and he beat me 8-0 (we played a single 8-game set back then). But I improved quickly. I constantly watched the varsity guys to see how they stroked the ball, recognizing that “form” is everything. And it paid off. I quickly climbed up the team rankings, knocking off player after player. And a couple weeks later, when we played that same team again, I was the number one player on our JV team. And in a nail-biter, I beat the other team’s number 1 player. And I just realized I’ve started four sentences in this paragraph with “and.”

The next week, I was moved up to varsity, where we won the conference championship and placed third in Central California. The next year, another championship year, I was the team captain.

Okay, I’m bragging. Reliving glory days. Mid-life nostalgia. But it’s to make a point. I know what it feels like to be able to improve very rapidly. But after you do that, you hit a wall, where improvement becomes very difficult. That happened to me in tennis. And that’s where I am right now in ping pong. I watch these young whippersnappers (at age 49, I qualify to refer to other people as whippersnappers), how they take hold of the sport and zoom right by me in ability. I can stroke the ball better. I have loads more experience. But they beat me. And it’s grossly unfair. God knows it, but he won’t do anything about it.

Churches sometimes grow rapidly, then hit a wall where continued growth is very difficult. New Christians grow spiritually, then experience a period where living the Christian life is suddenly difficult…and it stays that way for the rest of their lives. “Normal” life is hard. And hard is good. It means you put effort into it. If I’m gonna beat these young whippersnappers–and I know I can–it’ll take more than will power. Unfortunately, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to pray about it, asking God to grant me victory over these immature novices who need humbling. But if I keep losing, I may resort to prayer. Maybe even throw in some fasting. I really really want to beat these guys.

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How Many Michael Jordans Are There?

I was listening to ESPN radio today on the way to play ping pong. They were talking about the upcoming NFL combine, where draft prospects work out for NFL scouts and try to impress them. The show host asked a guest something like, “So how do you feel about the fact that the Reggie Bushes and the Matt Leinarts and the Vince Youngs will be there, but they aren’t going to work out?”

My question is much more significant: are there more than one of each guy? Why the pluralizing? Can the first two teams each get a Reggie Bush?

When Ron Artest was being shopped around, and some people were calling him one of the best players in the NBA, I heard a different ESPN announcer say, “Artest is good, but he’s not in the same category as the Kobes and the Tim Duncans and the Shaqs and the Lebrons and the Dwayne Wades and the Kevin Garnetts.” What? There’s more than one Kobe? More than one Shaq? Do the alternate Kobes and Shaqs also hate each other?

This is something you rarely see in writing, but you hear spoken all the time. Doesn’t make sense to me why people do it. Imagine saying, “May can be a hot month, but it doesn’t compare to the Junes and Julys and Augusts.” If there’s only one of something, why talk as if there are many of them?

  • “There are many great heroes in the Bible. I’m talking about the Gideons and the Davids and the Abrahams and the Solomons and the Apostles Pauls.”
  • “The King James is a popular Bible, but I’d recommend a contemporary version, something like the NIVs or the Living Bibles.”
  • “After Jesus was crucified, the disciples–the Peters, the Johns, the Bartholomews, the Jameses–hid in fear.”
  • “I enjoy being around the other members of the worship team–the Terrys, Tims, Chrises, Larrys, Jodys, Marshas, Pams, and Daves.”
  • “My two all-time favorite situations comedies are the Seinfields and the Mashes.”

Okay, so this is a silly thing people do. I’ve made my point. I’m trying to figure out why this affects God’s eternal purposes on earth–you know, the world evangelizations and the social justices and the discipleships and the eternal lifes–but I’m coming up empty.

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Those Who Do, Do

Next fall, ESPN takes over control of Monday Night Football, which ABC has ruled since it began. Tony Kornhiser was recently named as one of the new crew of announcers, and people are criticizing him because he never played football. Howard Cossell didn’t, either, but he was unique. Dennis Miller didn’t play football, and he bombed. But a variety of football players have bombed, too, over the years.

Over the years, I’ve often heard ministers discount other ministers by saying, “He never grew a church,” or, “He wasn’t a successful pastor.” Therefore, I have nothing to learn from that person. My Dad never led a church of more than 120. Therefore, to pastors of larger churches, he has nothing to contribute to them. If we did a seminar on pastoral relationships, and had pastors of churches smaller than 200 lead it, the pastors of churches larger than 300 or 400 wouldn’t attend. They would assume they have nothing to learn. Which is stinkin’ hogwash, because small-church pastors are often great at relational issues. But hey–small equals inferior. Small equals “not as successful as me.”

If they haven’t done it, then they can’t relate.

Which brings us to our President and VP. They never served in combat, and yet they’re leading a war in two countries, exercising authority over real soldiers and real generals. Lincoln never served in combat. Neither did Franklin Roosevelt. But sometimes, you just get lucky when it comes to who’s in charge, I guess.

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I Resent These New People

Because of sickness and miscellaneous conflicts, I haven’t been to the Three Rivers Table Tennis club since December 27. I finally made it last night. Turns out that the Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette newspaper ran a big article on the club, and it caught the attention of lots of ping pong players.

There’s a difference between “ping pong” and “table tennis.” People play ping pong recreationally in their basement or the church fellowship hall. People play table tennis as a sport. The latter are snobs. They consider themselves better, more serious, than mere ping pong players. I’m a snob.

Anyway, the place was packed last night. We have nine tables, which means 18 people can play at once. Rarely is every table busy. But last night, they were all busy, and there were a dozen or so people waiting around for an empty table. Probably half of the people last night were newbies. And I resented their presence.

Last week, when I attended the cluster coach training in Hillsdale, Mich., some of the pastors talked about the attitudes of regular church attenders toward newcomers. One person said that soon after he became pastor of his church, his wife and kids sat down on a front pew and another lady in the church asked them to move, because that was her pew. Another pastor told of a parishioner asking some first-time visitors to move, because they were sitting in his place. Visitors can be such a nuisance, huh? They don’t know how things are supposed to work.

Well, last night at the table tennis club, I felt the same way. I’m on a first-name basis with most of the guys and enjoy chatting with them. But last night, I didn’t get a chance to chat with the regulars. These new people were sitting in places I normally sat. They didn’t know the proper etiquette (walking behind a table to retrieve a ball while a point was in progress, for instance), and didn’t know the rules (11-point games, alternate two serves at a time–none of this serve-five-points, 21-point game stuff). Because they were cluttering up the neighborhood, I didn’t get to play nearly as much as I normally do. I had to be courteous and helpful to these new people–that can be such a strain–and play guys who provided little or no competition. What a burdensome hassle. My comfort zone had been invaded by the primitive Mongol hordes.

I wish they would go away. It was much more enjoyable when our club was small and we knew everybody.

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Deflated

I suddenly have no interest in football. I’ve been paying closer attention this year than I have for many years; Pam has even gotten into it. But after the Colts lost today, I feel totally deflated, like I don’t care about the NFL anymore. Sure, I’ll watch games again next week. But I didn’t realize how much my renewed interest was dependent on the Colts. As I type, the Panthers and Bears are playing, and I haven’t even been watching it.

I’m bummed. Maybe I’ll call in sick tomorrow. The work of the Kingdom can continue without me.

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My International Night Out

Tuesday is my “Guys Night Out,” the night I spend three hours at the Fort Wayne ping pong club. It’s also become somewhat of an international night. Like last night.

I started out playing Benny, who is from Cuba. I beat him last week, but he clobbered me last night, 3-0 (we play best of five games). Not a good start for the evening. Benny smashes harder than anyone else in the club. When he winds up with his forehand, you might as well crawl under the table, because you’re not gonna return it, and if you try, you might get hurt. I make a big deal out of his smashes, and Benny gets a kick out of it. When he smashes one hard, and I just wrap my arms around my head in protection, he just smiles broadly.

Then I played Ahmed. He’s been there the past two weeks, but I hadn’t played him yet. He plays up close and very fast. I’d seen him really go at it with some of the better players, and I didn’t expect to fare well against him. He won the first two games, but I figured out some things that were working, and I ended up winning the match in the fifth game (though it went into the ping pong version of extra points). Ahmed looked Arabic, and I figured he was from Iran, Iraq, maybe Lebanon or Jordan. Somewhere in that vicinity. But as we played, I recognized Richard Prabhakar’s accent. He was Indian. After our match, I spent some time just talking with Ahmed. Sure enough, he’s from India. Arrived a couple of months ago, and now works for Cooper Tire in Auburn, Ind. We had a nice discussion.

Then I played an American–Mike, whom I’ve never beat, though I’ve come very very very close several times. One of these weeks, I’ll prevail. Mike’s an engineer with ITT, working on weather satellites.

Next was John, who is from China. I’ve never beaten him, and probably never will. But I played respectably last night. After our match, he gave me some tips which turned out to be good advice. He told me I was passing up some shots which “I know you can hit.”

Then I played Ran, also from China. He’s been in Fort Wayne just three weeks, and works for Essex Wire. Speaks great English. While John is serious, Ran constantly sports a big smile and loves to joke around. A delightful guy. I beat him, by the way. Beat him a couple weeks ago, too, though it went down to the wire. In talking afterwards, Ran pointed to John (who was playing Ahmed at the time), and asked me where John was from. “He looks Japanese,” Ran said. “Mortal enemies,” I replied. He smiled. “Yes, they bombed my town during the war.” But I told him John was from China. Ran visited Hong Kong in 1995, and I was there in 1996, so we had some things to talk about there. He didn’t care for Hong Kong. Too big, crowded, and fast-paced for him. I liked Hong Kong, but agreed that is was too big, crowded, and fast-paced for me.

Next came Rick, who looks Jamaican but is actually from Panama. I’d never beaten Rick before, though again, like Mike, I had come mighty close. Last night, I beat him in five games. He was not moving very well, had a limp or something, but he refused to make any excuses which would lessen my victory. Classy guy.

Then I played another American, a newbie to the club named Brent. Won easily.

So last night, I ended up with a winning record, 4 matches won to 3 lost. And five of the seven were foreigners. Two of last night’s victories came against guys I didn’t expect to beat. So although I started out with a whupping from my Cuban friend, the evening was salvaged.

I enjoy the international guys. I’ve traveled enough that I find things to talk to them about. Plus, they’re all just so doggone interesting. I love hearing their stories. And it helps me appreciate the reality of the fact that the mission field has come to us.

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NCAA Bracket Busting

I correctly guessed 24 of the first 32 games in the NCAA basketball tournament. That’s not bad. The whole left side looks pretty good. But the right side is in shambles, thanks to Kansas. I picked Kansas to end up in the finals, against Illinois. I’m not sure why. I just kept filling out the brackets, and Kansas kept surviving, and then there they were, in the final. Meanwhile, I turned traitor on my favorite team, Arizona, letting them get bumped off in the Sweet 16. My other favorite team, UCLA, I picked to get beat in the first round, and they did. Where is my loyalty? My faith?

But Kansas–that really blew things for my bracket. Who in the world is Bucknell? I don’t even know where Bucknell is located. Since the mascot is the Bisons, I’m going to take a wild guess and say Bucknell isn’t located in Massachusetts.

Well: Go Illinois. I write that totally devoid of passion. I couldn’t care less about Illinois. Nor anyone else in the Big Ten, for that matter. I skew toward the western teams. So I’ll be cheering, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, for: Washington (no enthusiasm), Utah (moderate–a classmate of mine, Greg Deane, played at Utah, then played a couple years for the Utah Jazz), and of course Arizona (high enthusiasm). And New Mexico. Almost forgot about them.

And how can I not root for the Cinderella team, Vermont, which knocked off Syracuse?

Another good tournament. Always a highlight of the year. Someday my bracket will work out.

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The Civility of Ping Pongsters

I continue playing ping pong regularly. Mostly, I’m going to the club on the east side of town, which meets on Tuesday nights and Saturday afternoons. It has a lot of good players, as opposed to only a couple players coming to the one on the west side of town (my side). Last night, I played 8 or 9 matches during the three-hour period. I beat the guys I should have beat, and lost to the ones who were better than me, though I put up a pretty good fight and won a couple games off of guys who had previously beaten me 3-0 (we play best of 5 games, with 11-point games).

About 25 guys were there last night, and I’ve played probably 40 different guys during the past two months. Two guys, both named Tom, are clearly better than everyone else. They are the upper tier. Then there is a tier of about 8 guys who are very good, and fairly well matched. I was surprised last night when, in separate conversations, two different guys put me in that group. I’m definitely on the bottom end of it looking up, but it was flattering.

This is just about the nicest bunch of guys I’ve ever been around. It’s not a church thing–just a secular, city club that happens to meet at a church. But I’ve never been around a more gracious, nice, friendly, courteous bunch of guys. Not a single person there acts stuck-up, gets upset about losing, or otherwise displays a bad attitude. Like a bunch of Mormons or something.

By comparison, I think of the church softball, basketball, and volleyball leagues I’ve played in. My goodness, if you want to find unsportsmanlike jerks, go play in a church league. Why is that? And why are pastor-athletes sometimes the worst of the bunch? Would the character of the ping-pong club plummet if a preacher showed up to play? Hmmmm.

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Max is Back. For How Long?

Just got back from playing ping pong. Max, our 82-year-old leader, was in the hospital for three weeks. He has a tumor, his kidneys got infected and nearly shut down, things don’t look good. But he was playing, and could still whip me. We played for a while before he lifted up his parka and showed me the colostomy bag. Hmmm. I felt guilty hitting balls past him, because it was painful watching him slowly amble to retrieve balls. But at the table, his reflexes are plenty good. “I’m still as good as anyone in Fort Wayne, any age,” he told me.

I’m not sure of that. I’ve been going to a well-developed table tennis club on the other side of town. Lots of really good players there. There are a few that I think could beat Max–not in his prime, but now. Which shouldn’t seem like such a big deal–young guys ganging up on an 82-year-old with cancer and a colostomy bag. But there are some.

After the others left, I hung around to talk to Max. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since before he entered the hospital. He said he hasn’t been in the hospital since World War 2. Pretty fortunate. Now a bunch of things are hitting all at once. I sense that he’s lonely. I know he has at least one son in town, but I don’t know if he’s close to anyone. He just seems alone. If he didn’t have an athletic outlet, I get the impression he would just shrivel up and be gone. I asked him if his hospital stay went well, if they accomplished what they wanted to accomplish. He just smiled and said, “Oh no. This thing isn’t going away.”

How do you live with that?

On the way home, I pondered on whether I should have had prayer with him. Just say a little prayer on his behalf, him and me, the only ones left in the church. That’s what a minister would do. It doesn’t really fit me–it’s not something I would normally do, just have spontaneous prayer with someone who needs it. But maybe I should. Whether or not it “fits” me is irrelevant.

Maybe next week. He needs to feel less alone. I think the fact that I, at last, hung around and inquired–with genuine concern–about his condition at least counted for something in his mind. Probably most people don ‘t know what to say, figuring his days are numbered. And they are. But he needs people to come alongside him. I’ll give it a try.

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Super Bowl Recap

So New England won. I guess it was an exciting game, for people who care about either the Patriots or Eagles, but I’m not in either of those categories. I watched dispassionately, not caring who one.

I did, however, care about the commercials. As always. Not a great year for commercials either, for that matter, but there were still some good ones. I liked the beer commercial, where the pilot jumps out of the plane. And the mistaken robbery and cat-murder ads (by Ameriquest). But my favorite was the one involving US troops returning from Iraq, and being applauded as they go through the airport. That was a truly moving ad. I heard today that that is the only time the ad will air; Annheuser Busch won’t be airing it again. Kind of like Apple’s famous “1984” ad, which also aired only once (though I saw it several times in a Master’s course on advertising at Ball State; we spent considerable time studying that ad).

Then there was Paul McCartney. It was simply a fun half-time show. Those old Beatles tunes really hold up well. I hoped he would end with “Freedom,” but I suspect he didn’t want to appear to be endorsing US and Brit military action in Iraq. Maybe. But that’s okay. I loved the songs he did.

So much for today’s deep spiritual insights.

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