I Want to Be on That Man's Team

     The other day, a colleague of mine who knows my unshakable devotion to the Saint Louis Cardinals passed me an article from Sports Illustrated, on the great first baseman, Albert Pujols.  Glancing through the piece, which really was beyond the comic-book quality of most SI articles, I caught Albert saying that he did not want to be remembered as a baseball hero.

     What he did want to be remembered as, I'll tell you in a minute.  But first let me affirm that Albert Pujols is going to retire as either the greatest or the second greatest (to Lou Gehrig) first baseman ever to play the game.  If he retired tomorrow, he'd be in the top five or six, easy.  The man is not only a hitting machine.  He is intensely focused on whatever he can do to help his team win a game.  Witness these plays, in the last week.  Albert is on third base, one out, in a close game.  The ball is slapped back to the pitcher on two hops.  The pitcher fields it cleanly, looks Albert back to third, and then lobs the ball over to first.  As soon as he sees the lob, Albert breaks for the plate, and beats the throw from the first baseman -- though he has no great speed at all in those bulky legs.  Another play.  Runner at first, nobody out, ball hit into the right field corner, an easy double.  It seems there's going to be a play at the plate.  Albert takes the relay and, with his back to the plate and a mental clock running, fires immediately -- to the shortstop, behind the batter who has idly rounded second, nailing him and squelching a big inning.  Another play.  Runners at second and third, fly ball to medium right field, runners tagging.  Albert cuts off the throw to the plate and fires to third for a double play.

     He's in the same mold as the great Stan Musial, in some regards: rather quiet, a little less down-home than Stan, but also an ordinary fellow.  Albert came to Kansas City as a teenager from the Dominican Republic, and he still speaks with a thick accent, palatalizing his final n's, so that they sound kind of like ng's or gn's.  His work regimen is notoriously rigorous, as was Musial's -- that old lefty with the odd peekaboo stance used to take forty five minutes of extra batting practice, and stayed in shape during the offseason by playing winter ball.  But the most important thing they have in common is that they are both devoutly religious family men.  Musial was a good Polish Catholic from the coal mines of southwestern Pennsylvania (Donora, to be precise; and he shares the same birthplace and birthday with another lefty outfielder of note, Ken Griffey, Junior).  Albert Pujols I believe is some sort of evangelical Christian, but it is the most important thing in his life, and he is forthright about it.  He and his wife have a passel of children; they have adopted at least one with Down Syndrome, and they have established their own foundation in Saint Louis for other Down Syndrome children. 

     But I'm not so much interested in his philanthropic work, though that is considerable.  It's what moves his heart that interests me.  He said to the SI reporter, "I only want to be remembered as a man who loved the Lord."  That is how he talks, when he talks.  And it occurs to me that even if you considered it only as a social phenomenon, the love of Christ -- Christ's love for us, and our love for Him -- is the most remarkable thing in the history of the world.  Our faith is not for philosophers squinting at the difference between a Scotist and a Thomist, or not for them principally.  We need theologians, sure, if for nothing else than to keep certain riffraff off the streets.  But the faith is at once too profound for Thomas Aquinas, and simple enough for John Vianney; and the Gospels baffle Augustine, and yet a child can grasp them.  I could herd a dozen academics into a room for a semester and have them bicker about whether anything can truly be described as "good," and yet in one flash a simple ballplayer can beat them silly, merely by seeing the good, because he is in love with it, because he is in love with Him.  "Love is an eye," said Richard of Saint Victor.  What else but a divine love could turn a troubled teenager into a man so wise and so heartily good that his family radiates peace and joy?  I have seen the same thing in one of my students this year, who literally took the plunge a few weeks ago, under orders from his professor: "Why delay?  You'll be baptized before Easter."  He had led a life filled with lust and violence, and now all his fire burns with gratitude for Christ.  That young man is going to be a great preacher someday -- soon.

     And all these simple people who love Christ, who may not be able to persuade a single skeptic that God even exists, know what they know by their love, and are far the wiser for it.  They are my brothers and sisters, my teammates, in the oldest and most glorious communion the world has seen; a communion that has brought the world the odd idea that only in love is there freedom; because Truth has said so.

Comments

[Beth from TN]

Amen and amen.

[Sr. Dorcee Clarey, SGL]

I am reminded of someone who once commented on how St. John's whole identity is summed up in the phrase: "the one whom Jesus loved." It should be the same for us: the way that we, for instance, should sign ourselves at the end of a letter or refer to ourselves. How quickly we forget this truth of our entire identity. Albert is one who remembers.

[Truth Unites... and Divides]

Dear Tony,

I did not know this about Albert Pujols. Much, much thanks for posting this appreciation of him! I would also extend my applause to not only Albert for "getting it" and being a sold-out, on-fire Christian, but also to his pastor, his local church family, his wife, and perhaps to the Cardinal team chaplain as well for encouraging and supporting Albert.

Also, when I was a kid I loved basedball and reading about the history of baseball. Although a Giants fan, I also deeply appreciated and respected the Cardinals too. I remember reading the exploits of the Gashouse Gang with Dizzy Dean and his younger brother Daffy, the great Joe Medwick, and other beloved Cardinals from the 30's and 40's. Later on, came the brilliantly intimidating Bob Gibson and the base-stealing wizardry of Lou Brock and the fielding magician Ozzie Smith.

Cardinals are NL baseball history along with the Giants and Dodgers, storied franchises one and all.

Yankees = atheists and unbelievers.

Cardinals, Giants, and Dodgers are Christian co-belligerents representing the Catholics, the Protestants, and the Eastern Orthodox of the National League against the big and mean American League Yankees.

(Tongue in cheek about the Yankees. Showing my bias for National League brand of baseball. No DH!!!)

[Jim Kushiner]

Thanks, Tony! I'd been struck hard the past few days of our Orthodox Holy Week seeing the love of Jesus for us: "He girded himself with a towel" and washed their--our--feet, then goes volutarily to his Passion to free us from the death that we brought upon ourselves! Who can fathom the depths of humilty and the heights of the Love of God for us! Is it just possible that His Love is what gives meaning to The Cosmos in which we live, or should I go back to reading the drivel of the materialists? Christ is Risen! (Sorry, Pascha brings this "devotional stuff" out of me!) Well, God bless Albert Pujols (except against the Cubs!)

[Michael]

>>Tongue in cheek about the Yankees. Showing my bias for National League brand of baseball. No DH!!!<<

The AL is a far stronger league because of it.

[mcmoderator]

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