The phone call that I had been waiting for came last
Sunday night around 6:45. I went out into the garage,
and grabbed a baseball glove hanging on the wall,
something I had done probably a couple of thousand
times. This time, however, I was about to do something
I had never done before in my rapidly advancing years.
I was not heading out on my bike, as I had done many
times in my youth to go to a pickup game in the
neighborhood, or to a league practice or baseball
game. Neither was I headed out in my car to coach a
baseball or softball practice or game, to throw
batting practice or hit infield. Nor was I headed out
to a church fast-pitch or slow-pitch softball game.
No, this time, as I reached for my grown son's
15-year-old catcher's mitt, and a slightly used
baseball from the ball-bag, I was going to play catch
with World Series Champion, Clint Wynn. Slightly
nervous, but already with a grin on my face, I made
the short trip across the neighborhood to visit with
one of the members of the team that captured the
hearts and minds of a town, a state and perhaps the
entire nation. You see, being married to a Christian
newspaper editor, and an occasional contributing
writer to His Voice has its perks, and I was about to
cash in on one of them.
I arrived at the Wynn home a few minutes later and
introduced myself to Clint's dad, Ron. I had
previously met his wife Trish earlier in the week and
had spent part of a lunch hour talking to her about
how special it must have been to have experienced what
the parents of 2. 6 million children dream about every
year. In talking with Trish, she described how the
media constantly peppered them with questions in
Williamsport, usually with many different ways of
asking the same question. However, she did get asked
one question that she answered directly to a reporter
from the Atlanta Journal Constitution that never made
it in print. The question was, "Have you ever
been or will you ever be as proud of your son as you
are right now? " Without hesitation, Trish
replied, "Yes, the day Clint was saved."
Clint, at nine years old, had figured out what many
never do. Clint and his family are members at Cross
Point Baptist Church in Perry, and clearly have their
priorities in order.
So now, I was about to meet Warner Robins Middle
Schooler, Clint himself, World Series Champion
pitcher, and Christian Athlete. It doesn't get any
better than this. Clint came strolling out of the
house, and already as tall as I, gripped my hand, and
I said, "Wanna play catch? " He grinned,
grabbed his glove, and I tossed him the ball. Out in
the front yard, Clint, after loosening up a few
minutes, started firing 70 mph . . .
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