The desire of every high school athlete is a full scholarship to college. I was speaking to a local softball team yesterday. I asked them to imagine that I could give them a full scholarship. The only thing I needed them to do was to try out. The terms of the scholarship state that if every "at bat" is a home run; if every ball is fielded cleanly; if every throw is on line; and every pitch a strike, then you will get the scholarship.

I asked them if they could achieve that. "No" was the unanimous answer. Of course you can't because no one is perfect.

I became a baseball fan during the magical season of 1961. I lived for the trek to the mailbox for the morning paper. Turning to the sports section, I would devour the scores, especially those of the New York Yankees, where the nation focused on the home run race between Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. These two players fascinated me. Though Maris won the home run race that year, Mickey Mantle was my hero. He moved with grace and hit with power, and his statistics were incredibly impressive.

As I grew older, however, I learned of many poor choices made by Mantle. His decadent lifestyle and forty-year abuse of alcohol had shortened his career, prevented him from reaching his full potential, and clouded his mind.

Hockey Chat:  In the Stanley Cup Finals 2004, Calgary’s Ville Nieminen's hit on Tampa BayVincent Lecavalier in Game 4 of the was definitely a cheap shot, taking a run at him from behind and smashing his head into the glass.  As a result the Flames’ top defenseman had to sit the next game out on suspension, hurting his team this time and not the opposition. Many would say that ugly hit deserved revenge.  Rather than take a cheap shot in return, the biggest retaliation a team can have is winning the game by playing hard-nosed, fair hockey. That is exactly what the Lightning did by taking the series and winning the Stanley Cup.

My brother Judd stopped by to visit the other night. It’s always great to see him. He is in the process of transforming his life and is now a triathlete. So far, he’s competed in two triathlons, and I’m so proud of him. While this kind of competition is not uncommon for many former athletes, Judd’s situation is a little different.

I was the youngest varsity basketball coach in Indiana. I studied older coaches to gain knowledge, but one area to which I never paid enough attention was when to talk and when to keep quiet. I learned the hard way: by my second year of coaching, I’d received more than ten technical fouls, not for bad language, but for opening my mouth at the wrong time. These failures made me wonder if I’d ever master control over my tongue.

Solomon knew that there is a time for speaking and a time to guard our mouths, and many of us would do well to learn his lesson. All too often our lips keep moving when we should be listening. We fall too easily into traps made by our own speech; we forget that if our mouth doesn’t open, we will not be creating a trap to fall into.

For four years I watched my little girl, Julianna, walk, run, and twirl her way through our church. For thirteen years I watched another girl in our church, Kindra, live her entire life confined to a wheelchair. One Sunday, Kindra’s mom brought her to church with a new spring outfit. I noticed that there were new shoes, but they sat in Kindra’s lap. After the service, Kindra’s mother gave the shoes to my wife with the request that our daughter wear them. For the next few services, I observed the mom watching Julianna move about the church property in the shoes that Kindra could not wear.