Adventures in Syberspace

This is Not The Year

The one question Cubs fans get asked more than any other this time of year is a simple one: Is this the year? That is…will the Cubs, after a 108 year drought, finally win the World Series? They’re poised to do so, having secured the best record in all of baseball, their pitching rotation solid, their lineup of hitters dominant. Some would even say that there is some urgency to win now. Sports Illustrated picked them to win. One national columnist, in fact, recently said that they must win the title this year. Their pitchers are getting older, other teams are catching up…they better not miss this chance.

I say Hogwash. Malarkey. This is precisely the attitude that should be nowhere near Cub Nation at this moment. For starters, baseball players, perhaps more than any other athletes, need to be relaxed in order to excel. The more pressure they feel, the worse they tend to do. But these are professionals, so I’m not as worried about them. I’m much more worried about us, the fans. See it’s not the failure that trips us up; it’s the success. We know exactly what to do with failure—failure is a familiar friend. She feels like home. Success…this is new. And we don’t handle it well. Consider 2008.

2008 feels eerily similar to this year. The Cubs had the best record in the National League, and it was the second straight year they’d qualified for the playoffs. It was also the 100th anniversary of the last World Series team so naturally we all drank the Kool-Aid and believed that this was The Year. Why wouldn’t it be? I was, in fact, at Game 1 of that first playoff series. Chicago took an early 2-0 lead and the optimism in the park was palpable. Until the Dodgers hit a grand slam. They went on to lose the game, and then the next two. Three and out. Not what we had in mind. Cub Nation wasn’t just disappointed; we were confused. Hurt. This was supposed to be our year! It wasn’t.

Let me go back a bit further. Consider the Atlanta Braves of the 90s and early 2000s, who won 14 straight division titles. It was unprecedented, and will likely never be matched. They were absolutely dominant. Do you know how many World Series they went to? They went to four. You know how many they won? Just one. Every year, diehard Braves fans must have thought: This is The Year! They were the best team in baseball for many of those years, and have exactly one (1) round trophy of flags to show for it.

Fans of other sports may have a hard time understanding this. Take basketball. In the NBA this year, there was about a 95% chance that the Cavaliers would make the Finals. Because when you have one of the most dominant basketball players on your team, he can touch the ball on virtually every possession, impose his will, and guarantee success. In baseball, you can have the most dominant player on your team, but he only gets to bat every ninth time. You can have the most dominant starting pitcher on your team, but he only pitches every five days.

And baseball is funny. People don’t want to admit it, but there’s a fair amount of luck in baseball. It truly is a game of inches, and sometimes inches separate success from failure.

Which brings us back to this year. Once again, the refrain is thrown about. “This is our year! We have the best team so it’s gonna happen!” Well here’s the deal, folks. You know how we’ll know it’s our year? When we’ve recorded the final out in the final inning of the final game of the World Series, and our team is on the field celebrating. Then and only then will we know.

And it’s way better for the emotional health of every Cubs fan to assume that this is in fact not The Year. Isn’t this the way we best enjoy gifts? The ones we don’t expect, that we don’t feel entitled to…those are the ones we appreciate the most. Sure we have a great chance to win it all, a better chance than the rest of the teams, but it’s not even close to guaranteed.

So Cubs fans, join me in basking in the glow of a historically great regular season. Wait expectantly, full of hope, for a World Series, because I believe with all of my heart that it will happen. But it may not be this year.

This is not the year. Until it is.

What I Learned About Parenting from the Mets

While most of Cub Nation was experiencing schadenfreudian delight at the untimely demise of the New York Mets last weekend, I was experiencing something a little different: learning what not to do as a parent from Mets manager Terry Collins.

For those of you that missed it, the Mets were in a must-win situation in Game 5 of the World Series on Sunday night, down 3 games to 1. The Mets’ Matt Harvey had pitched eight scoreless innings and his team led 2-0, with just three outs to get. Collins had already made his mind up that he would bring in his team’s closer to get those three outs. When Harvey heard he was being pulled, the cameras caught him vehemently lobbying to stay in, saying: “No way. No way. I'm not coming out.” Earlier in the season, Harvey had gone through some controversy related to how many innings he was willing to throw, having missed the previous season due to reconstructive surgery. Some fans thought he was soft and was putting his own well-being before the good of the team. Finishing the game himself would put some of that controversy to rest, and would end his season on an emphatic note.

About that time, the fans joined in too, chanting “We Want Harvey.” So Collins had a decision to make: do I make what I believe is the right baseball decision, to bring in a reliever whom I’ve counted on all season to succeed in such a situation, or do I listen to the emotional plea of a young man who wants to finish what he started, and the fans who want the same? He relented, and sent Harvey out to pitch the ninth. It did not go well. After giving up a walk and a double, the lead was down to 2-1. At that point, he brought in his reliever, who gave up a run on two innocuous groundouts. The Mets went on to lose the game in 12 innings, and the series 4 games to 1. After the game, Collins bravely took full responsibility for his call, and said “I let my heart get in the way of my gut. I love my players. And I trust them.”

So how did I make the jump to parenting? Because I saw myself as a parent in the way Collins talked about his players. I love my children, and I trust my children. I want to make decisions as a parent that will make them happy. And there will be times when I will be tempted to make a decision that may bring them happiness in the short run, but will be detrimental to their well-being in the long run. I may be hesitant to follow through on that decision out of fear for how my children will respond. I may even get second-guessed after the fact. But it’s the right thing to do.

So in the same way that baseball players need their managers to make the best decision for the good of the team (and by extension the fans), so do children need their parents to make the best decisions for the good of the family. And in both situations, those decisions may not be received well, by our children and by others. The “We Want Harvey” cry of the fans is not unlike the response of our kids’ friends or their parents, who will also want to sway you from whichever decision they may disagree with. The “I’m not coming out” from Harvey is like the “Oh yes I am going to that sleepover” from our teens and tweens. It’s our job as parents to, at times, make unpopular decisions, and we should expect disagreement. But we are the parents! We have to trust that we’re acting with the best interests of our children in mind, and trust that it will benefit them even if they don’t like it right now.

With the benefit of 20-20 hindsight, we now know that Collins shouldn’t have “trusted” his pitcher, not because Harvey’s a bad player but because the manager needed to keep the bigger picture in mind. Just as winning a championship for your team always has to trump a loyalty to a certain player, putting your children in a position to succeed in life has to trump their short-term self-interests.

Love your kids with all of your heart, love them till they can’t take it anymore. But never stop making decisions with your gut. Here’s hoping Joe Maddon does the same.

An Open Letter to the Girardi Family

Well hello Girardis! I realize you don’t know me, nor would you have any reason to care about me and my fellow Cubs fans for that matter, but I’ll get right to my point.

We need you. Actually, that’s not true. We need your dad, Joe Girardi, to be the 59^th manager of the Chicago Cubs. And the reason I’m talking to you about it is because your dad told reporters that each of you gets a vote in what he decides to do next. And if he’s serious, what that means is that it really doesn’t matter what your parents wants to do: you outnumber them three to two, so it really comes down to the three of you.

We assume you’re Yankees fans (as you should be with your dad as manager there the previous six seasons), so it may feel like it’s been a long time since they’ve won a World Series: four whole years! Here in Cub Nation, it’s been over a hundred. 105 to be exact. Your dad played for the Cubs on two different occasions, so maybe he’s told you about that. That’s not a drought, children; that’s Death Valley.

Your dad is a proven winner. He won Manager of the Year in his first season with the Marlins, taking a team of nobodies to the verge of a playoff berth. He then won a World Series with a team having the highest payroll in baseball. This is exactly who we need on the North Side, someone who can work with prospects and with highly-paid veterans.

So why would you have any interest in leaving New York? On the face of it, I don’t know why you would. New York is a great place to live. But just ask your dad: so is Chicago. Have you been here lately? Picture a cleaner, less crowded New York, plus our large body of water adjacent to the city has fresh water instead of salt. Plus, you probably haven’t seen the Bean, have you? The Bean is great, you’ll love it.

And yes, the Cubs did have a chance to hire him back in 2007 when you still lived in the Chicago area, and your dad was looking for a job. Heck, it was his dream job back then. They chose experience over talent and desire, and well, it didn’t work out well.

Is this a little pathetic, a grown man groveling at the feet of children? Absolutely, but we Cubs fans are a desperate lot. Is this selfish of me to ask this of you? Of course it is. And trust me, I don’t feel good about it. Asking you to leave your friends and your routine for a new life in Chicago. But it’s come to this.

See, everyone wants to accomplish something in his life that no one else has. For a baseball manager, that something is bringing a championship to the Chicago Cubs. There’s no greater hill for your dear old dad to climb. And you’ll get to be a part of it! You won’t believe your eyes, when you watch the joy that your dad will bring to millions, when he hoists that World Series trophy over his head. There will be nothing like it.

So when it’s family meeting time around the dinner table, I hope you’ll take this to heart. Please, think of us. Think of history. And if I’ve convinced any of you, remember that this is Chicago, so feel free to vote early and often.

Carpe Derrick

Hall of Famer Cal Ripken, Jr. was 22 years old and in his third year in the major leagues when he won his first World Series as a member of the Baltimore Orioles. After the win, believing it would be the first of many, he was quoted as saying: “I think our World Series has found a home.” It would be 13 long years before he would return to the playoffs. Even though he played in more regular season games than any other player in the history of baseball, he would never play in a World Series game again.

This brings us to Derrick Rose. Allow me to recap. Ever since that fateful day last April when Derrick Rose went down with a torn ACL, the entire city of Chicago has been breathlessly following his return. A carefully orchestrated string of videos produced by Rose’s sponsor Adidas fueled the fire of every Bulls fan, anxiously awaiting the end of the 8-12 month rehabilitation period his doctor promised. Another NBA player named Iman Shumpert tore his ACL on the same day as Rose, and he returned to games in early February. Bulls fans figured it would only be a matter of time before Rose followed suit. We were wrong. February turned to March, and then April. Rose returned to practice, and although his doctor has said that playing in games is the next step in the rehab process, still no games. It became apparent that Derrick wasn’t coming back this season, and most Bulls fans had resigned themselves to it.

And the understandable “common sense” reasoning went something like this: the Bulls aren’t very good this year. The Heat look unstoppable. Why risk reinjuring the knee when a return would mean being humiliated by the defending World Champions and the best basketball player in history not named Michael Jordan?

Then Monday night happened. Everyone on the planet penciled the Heat in for a blowout. Two starters in addition to Rose were out, and the Heat had lost just two games total since February 1^st. No one, not even the players’ mothers, thought they had a chance to win a game in Miami. But the “next man up” Bulls didn’t get the “Heat in 4” memo and they stunned the Heat and the world by winning the game, taking a 1-0 series lead. Yes, the Bulls got blown out Wednesday night, but they took home court advantage away from the best team in basketball and made it a series to watch.

So what does this mean for Derrick? Does it change anything?

It is true that no one knows what Rose’s reattached ACL feels like except for Derrick Rose. No one can judge another person’s experience, and if Rose is hurt, he shouldn’t play. But everything, including Rose’s own statements, suggests that he is healthy enough to play, but is holding back because he doesn’t have any interest in putting himself in danger if it won’t lead to a championship.

And look, the Bulls don’t look good enough to win a championship this year. But this is what makes sports so much fun. You never know what will happen. What if the Bulls find a way to win 3 more games and advance to the next round? What if they make it to the Finals? What if they somehow win it all without their MVP.

Furthermore, what if Derrick waits till the fall of 2013 and he blows out his knee in the first game of the season? A devastating injury can happen any time, at virtually any moment of any game. Rose has the opportunity right now to help his team, and maybe, just maybe, to be a part of something special. We all hope and expect Derrick to play for his hometown team for another 10 years, and to amaze us time and time again. But we don’t know if that will happen. We do know that we have this moment.

So Derrick…seize the day.  Not because you’re earning $16 million this year. Or because everyone else is playing through their pain. But because there are no promises in the world of sports, or in life.  It’s a leap of faith, to be sure. Trusting that the knee won’t give out. That you won’t crumple to the ground again, like you did in agonizing fashion last April. But if you’re healthy, it’s worth the risk. Cause Cal can tell you that you never know when that chance will roll around again.

I Was a Teenage Tim Tebow

Tim Tebow is the Stairway to Heaven of writing. Anyone who even barely knows how to play guitar can play some portion of the Led Zeppelin classic. And everyone who writes even the teensiest bit has written an article about Tim Tebow in the past few months. This is mine, published in the Chicago Tribune today in the Perspectives section.

God and Stevie Johnson

 

On Sunday November 28th, the Buffalo Bills (not very good at football) forced overtime in a game against the Pittsburgh Steelers (generally pretty good at football). Overtime is sudden death-- first one to score wins. At one point, the Bills QB threw a perfect (it literally could not have been thrown any better) deep ball to wide receiver Stevie Johnson (above), right in his arms in the endzone...and Stevie dropped it (video here, if you can bear to watch it). The game would have been over, the home crowd would have gone nuts, and Stevie would have been a hero. Instead, the Steelers went on to win with a field goal, and Stevie felt terrible. He also felt angry at God. Here's what he said on his Twitter account immediately after the game:

I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!! YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO...

His response got a lot of media attention and his later tweets had him retracting his statement, saying he wasn't blaming God at all. But let's be real. That's precisely what he was doing.

It is very interesting to me that Johnson did this, because while you often hear players praising God after a victory, you don't ever hear them blaming God after a loss. Clearly, he was tweeting out of his frustration and anger, and wasn't thinking as clearly as he would have liked. And who hasn't felt this way?

I find this to be such a teaching moment. Here's why. Those of us who espouse faith can sometimes fall into this (usually unspoken) deal we think we've made with God that goes something like this. I agree to praise you, give you glory, and generally be a good person most of the time. And YOU agree to not allow bad or even unfortunate things to happen to me. As long as life goes along "as it should," this arrangement works out really nicely. And it's easy to praise God, because...what's not to like? When things don't go the way we want them to, out come the fists, shaking skyward: "I thought we had a deal!"

Nope, no deal. Here's the deal. We praise God in all circumstances, and trust that even when things don't go the way we'd like, God's purposes are at work. Stevie Johnson is a young man and so I think he'll learn as he gets older that life doesn't always go the way you hope it will. (He really could have learned this lesson had he spent any amount of time with Buffalo Bills fans, but oh well). The message of the Bible is that life is hard, but God is good.

Keep being honest, Stevie. That's what the psalmists teach us. But at the end of the day, God is God and He will work all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28), many times in ways we don't understand.

How the Cubs Gave Me a Car

For those who'd rather I just cut to the chase, you can find out the very basics here and a little longer story here (notice the name on the caption above my story...strange). Also, all the pictures (with captions) are on my Facebook page, here.

For those interested in the longer version, this unlikely story begins on May 21st. Like a normal, relatively die hard Cubs fan, I was surfing on cubs.com and saw a story mentioning that the Cubs and Toyota were giving away a car (coinciding with the installation of a new, controversial Toyota sign above the left field bleachers), but you had to sign up during a game at Wrigley between May 25 and 30. I had no plans to be at a game during that time period, so I forgot about it. The following Sunday, a friend of mine offered me tickets to that Thursday's game (May 27 against the Dodgers). I decided I would go to the game and take Foster and Grace, and I also invited my friend Graham. The game was very exciting, a taut 1-0 pitchers' duel won by Ted Lilly. We stayed till the end and as we were walking out, I saw the "Fan Services" window out of the corner of my eye and for some reason, remembered that giveaway. I said to Graham: hey, you want a Prius? He obliged and we walked over to the window and I asked about the Toyota giveaway. The guys behind the counter didn't seem to know what I was talking about-- they had to sort of look around for the sheets, but they eventually found them and we filled them out. But I honestly wouldn't have been surprised had they thrown them out after we left. I immediately forgot I ever signed up for it.

Fast forward to Monday, June 7th. I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize and a woman named Jennifer tells me I've been selected as a semi-finalist for a "sweepstakes"-- I start to get annoyed when I hear this word, thinking it's some scam. I wonder how she's gotten my phone number-- then she says Toyota Prius and Wrigley Field. I remember signing up for the drawing, and start listening a little more intently. The deal is that I have a one in six chance of winning a new Toyota Prius but I have to be there Saturday afternoon the 12th before the Cubs-White Sox game. I realize that my plan was to leave Saturday morning to fly to Texas in order to rent the vans for the high school Mexico team that will be leaving later that afternoon. She tells me she'll have to move on to another contestant. So I tell her to give me a minute to see if I can make it happen. I call the van company and they tell me I can do everything remotely. I then realize that I can change my flight to the later flight (with the full team) at 5:30. However, they don't even know whether they'll have the event, which I surmise later was because they had to wait until the Chicago City Council approved the sign. I actually streamed the city council meeting live on Wednesday to see if they would vote on it, because if they didn't approve it, the whole thing wouldn't happen. They approved it, and Jennifer called me back Thursday morning to tell me it's on.

I asked my friend Bob to join me for the game (I got 2 tickets to the game) and my co-trip leader Steve advised me to make the whole thing a surprise for the team, just in case I won. The other cool piece of this is that my 12 year old Kaila got invited to the game by my sister-in-law and niece, so she took the train down with me, and she even got to meet Sean Marshall before the game.

So Bob and I get to go inside the offices and the other six contestants and their guests are waiting. We introduce ourselves, share our stories, and watch the US-England World Cup game (see below).

They come in and draw our names out of a basket, which was the order that we'd draw our numbered baseballs out of a bag. I drew 2nd, and drew ball number 1. We then moved onto the field, but not before seeing a Prius drive onto the right field warning track. Our guest Cub shows up in the person of Ryan Dempster (he would be drawing out the winning ball) and turns out he's one of the nicest guys you could ever imagine. I chatted him up about the Blackhawks, knowing he's from Canada and a big hockey fan.

Then it's time for the drawing. Now the deal is that I really wasn't nervous at this point, because I honestly did not think I was going to win. A one in six chance to win is...well, it's better than one in a hundred, but still, as my friend Peter pointed out, if someone told you you had a one in six chance of living, you'd be pretty bummed out. So I received the whole experience of going to Wrigley as the gift, pretty darn certain that that would be the end of it. 

The moment for Ryan to draw came, and again, I wasn't nervous. I was ready to cheer for the person that won. He drew out the ball, and did a great job of hiding the number. Then he revealed the number: 1. This was my immediate response:

Life immediately jumped into "surreal" mode. It was like an out of body experience. I remember staring at the red warning track gravel, as I doubled over. I walked over to Dempster, who offered me a handshake, but the only appropriate thing to do at this point was to hug him.

Kaila was a good ways away with my sister-in-law Chris, and they hadn't announced my name yet but she could see me hugging Ryan. Chris turned to Kaila and said: "Your dad is hugging Ryan Dempster-- I think he just won the car." The contestants began to congratulate me and I immediately had the thought: "this is definitely a dream. I'm going to wake up any minute." I hear someone on a cell phone talking to the press box: "Syler Thomas, S-Y-L-E-R." I then hear my name announced over the PA. I look to see Kaila and jump up in the air to celebrate with her from afar. I took my picture with Ryan Dempster, and they then invited me to get in the passenger seat to be driven off the field. The guy inside was very nice and congratulatory, and it still seemed way too hard to believe. I got out of the car once it left the stadium and found out later that that was actually my car, not a proxy but the real thing. I didn't take a good look at it except to note that it's white (Blizzard Pearl to be exact). Bob and I walked back into the Cubs offices to get the paperwork, and new Cubs owner Tom Ricketts walked by. In a "why not" moment, I stopped him, introduced myself, and thanked him for the Toyota sign since it meant I got a new car. He was very nice and let me take a picture with him. I also met Cubs chairman Crane Kenney who was equally friendly and congratulatory.

I know I should have been more prepared for it but I honestly couldn't have been more surprised had someone stopped me on the street and told me they were giving me a car. I spent the next two hours in shock, calling various family members. My mom called before I could call her, saying: Well I guess since you haven't called me yet, you didn't win. I responded: Not necessarily. "Freaking out" would be an understatement. Same goes for my sister.

Our flight to Texas was delayed to the point where I got a ride from Chris, who took me right to the airport, with just enough time for me to run to the gate as they were boarding, and I told the abbreviated story to the incredulous team, who all thought I was in Texas.

I absolutely loved being able to immediately step on the plane and head off to one of my favorite weeks of the year, taking my youth group to build homes with Casas por Cristo in Acuña, Mexico. This might sound like a cliche but winning a car really was the second most important thing happening that day, which is probably why it was such a shock.

I almost forgot this part of the story (which my mom thinks is the best part): I had been driving a '93 Toyota Camry with 187,000 miles, with no A/C and no radio. I actually love the car, and was kind of sad to sell it. But I did. AND...you know who bought it from me? My friend Bob who was at the game with me. Worked out well.

Picked up the Prius 2 weeks ago. Here it is, first night on my driveway. 

 

The Cubs logo does come off, and will eventually. (In case you missed it above, all the pictures worth sharing are on my Facebook page with comments, accessible here.)

Heidi's comment about the car was the best. "You have loved the Cubs for so many years. Now they've loved you back." The Cubs may never give me a World Series championship. But they gave me a car. For now, that will have to do.

Cubs.com: Have you been paying attention?

I got an e-mail today from cubs.com asking me to sign up to receive free game-day photographs sent to my AT&T phone. I don't have an AT&T phone so this doesn't apply to me, but I love how they sell it: "Get pictures of Carlos Marmol closing out another Cubs win, Alfonso Soriano crushing another homer onto Waveland Avenue & more exciting moments...."

Wouldn't you think if this was sent by cubs.com that someone who had some knowledge of the Cubs would have been consulted before sending it out? Carlos Marmol doesn't close games out. He's got 3 saves, but our closer is Kevin Gregg. And Soriano? Hitting home runs? Onto WAVELAND? The guy hadn't hit one before last week since June 7th, and only 3 of his 16 home runs have come at Wrigley. And none that I recall landed on Waveland. I just want to throw it out there that I'm available for editing e-mails if anyone at cubs.com wants to not embarrass themselves anymore.

On Father's Day Weekend, about my Grandfather-Father-Son Trip

In May, I took Foster to Houston for his birthday, and my dad met us there to stay in a hotel and go to a Cubs game. Foster has just recently started getting into sports in general and the Cubs in particular. I bought him some Cubs baseball cards over Spring break and I was using them like flash cards to help him remember the names of the players. We arrived into Houston, went to the hotel, had a quick swim on the top-floor (though indoor) pool, then went to the game at Minute Maid Park, just down the street from the hotel (picture below taken from our hotel room).

We got there early, and the gates hadn't even opened yet. When we got inside we went towards the Cubs dugout along with quite a few other Cubs fans (we're everywhere). I was really hoping we could get Foster a ball, but everyone wanted a ball, so I knew the chances weren't good. Here are some pictures I took, my favorite Cub Reed Johnson, Aramis Ramirez chatting with Lou one day before separating his shoulder, and a good one of Soriano.

Then Joey Gathright ran over and grabbed a ball that was sitting not far from us (in fact, you can see the ball sitting on the grass behind us in the picture below).

I wanted to yell to him, but didn't. But it was like I was communicating telepathically because he looked over at us as if to say: "Someone want this?" I said: "Right here!" And even though I called for it, there were still plenty of people who could have snagged it. Sure enough, the ball came right to me, I reached above the smaller young woman standing in front of me, and caught it. "Here you go, buddy. Happy birthday." At that moment, I thought: whether we win or lose, or this is the worst game ever, our trip has been a success. (Note: it was Joey's last great play as a Cub as he was traded to the Orioles the very next day).
We were sitting behind home plate (incredible seats) next to another Cubs fan, but there were mostly Astros fans around us, view from our seats below.

There were 2 particularly obnoxious Astros fans sitting in front of us who thankfully left after the 3rd inning. The game didn't start well with our pitcher giving up a two-run home run in the bottom of the 1st inning but we came back, Soriano hit a home run (remember when he did that?), and we were leading for most of the game. Lo and behold, the obnoxious fans returned in the top of the 9th and decided it was time to start heckling the Cubs. Soriano came up and they started yelling, "Soriano! Have you even been on base tonight?" Then it was quiet, so I said, "He actually hit a home-run earlier, guys. So technically, no, he wasn't on base. But he was on them all briefly." They felt a little embarrassed, but were undeterred. They continued to razz him, and I was thinking: "Please hit a home run. Please hit a home run." And right on cue, Soriano drilled another one. I went crazy and might have gotten myself in a fight but chilled out. We then spent a day in Galveston with my mom and stepdad. Foster and I bonded, we had some quality time with the grandparents, the Cubs won, he got a ball...what a weekend! And Foster has the ball to prove it.

My thoughts on God and sports, published in the Daily Herald

Find the story here. What do you think about what I said?