At their home opener yesterday, the Boston Red Sox celebrated their 2007 World Series championship. Joining in the festivities at Fenway Park were a number of Boston sports heroes, including the Celtics’ Bill Russell, the Patriots’ Tedy Bruschi, the Bruins’ Bobby Orr, and 88-year-old Red Sox legend Johnny Pesky, who helped hoist the 2007 championship pennant. But there was another participant, someone who has been known as something less than a hero in Beantown: Bill Buckner.

It was Buckner’s error in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series that led to a rally by the New York Mets, an extension of Boston’s long string of seasons not winning the World Series, and Buckner being labeled as the “goat.” When Buckner was introduced to the crowd yesterday to throw out the first pitch, he was given a lengthy standing ovation, which brought tears to his eyes

“It was hard for me to do,” said Buckner about his return to Fenway, adding that he initially wanted to decline the invitation but prayed about it and decided to accept. “I really had to forgive, not the fans of Boston per se, but I’d have to say in my heart I had to forgive the media for what they put my family through.”

Thank you, Bill Buckner, for reminding us that we should be willing to forgive those who have wronged us, just as our Father in Heaven has done for us.

The fact that major league baseball teams want to attract Christians to their stadiums concerns New York Times baseball writer Murray Chass. These thousands of ticket-buying believers who want to spend money on hot dogs and peanuts and a souvenir or two and then maybe hang around after the last out to listen to a Christian band and hear a couple players give their testimony appear to be a major threat to the game Chass holds so dear. He’s bewildered that even the Jewish owners of the Washington Nationals apparently have no problem with this tainting of the game. For Chass, these “Faith Nights” at the ol’ ballpark need to be legislated out by the powers that be:

The idea has caught on in baseball because clubs want to sell tickets. That’s why Major League Baseball will never halt faith nights. Anything for a few dollars more. But it has no place in baseball. Baseball crowds are made up of people of all faiths and no faith. No segment should be singled out.

It doesn’t matter to Chass that these special Faith Night events take place either well before or after the actual games, or that in this age of celebrating diversity that Christians ought to be celebrated, too. But maybe Chass is right; with all the foul-mouthed, drunken fans that usually end up sitting around you and your family, who’d want a bunch of Christians in the stands to spoil the party?

Christian athletes have a unique platform for sharing their faith, but some are more effective than others. Take for example New York Yankees pitcher Andy Pettitte, a professing believer who faced the press earlier this week about his steroid use. As Pettitte fielded a question asking whether he considered himself a cheater, C.J. Mahaney of Sovereign Grace Ministries listened carefully to Pettitte’s denial and later wrote on his blog:

As I watched Pettitte, I noted how high-profile Christian athletes miss opportunities to present culture with a compelling alternative: someone who has been genuinely convicted of sin and confesses those specific sins. Instead, the norm for these athletes (who are professing Christians) is to conform to the evasive language so common when someone has been caught.

Mahaney went on to contrast Pettitte’s confession with that of another, lesser-known player whose name also appeared on the infamous Mitchell Report list: Daniel Naulty, who pitched for the Yankees and the Minnesota Twins. In an interview with WORLD’s Mark Bergin, Naulty, a believer who’s now in Christian ministry, was concerned about the effect his actions were having on others. Bergin wrote:

Paramount in his mind were the other players he’d beat out for roster spots. Naulty believes he never would have climbed higher than single-A ball had he not juiced. Doping took him from a scrawny 86-mph pitcher out of college to a muscled 95-mph stud three years later. “I was watching my so-called friends leave big league camp, beginning another grueling year in the minors, while I kept sticking needles in my butt and patting them on the back as they were dismissed,” Naulty recalls. “I am deeply sorry for the damage I have caused others with my terrible choices.”

In his blog post, Mahaney added:

Naulty embraced his moment to speak and he spoke clearly, specifically, and humbly. Pettitte missed his moment.

Now, what about your moment of confession? Your moment is coming, and so is mine. And this is what concerns me the most—that I will miss my moment.

Take time this weekend to read all of C.J.’s convicting post, as well as Mark’s excellent profile of Naulty and the path he has chosen.

HT: Justin Taylor

Doug Glanville played for the Chicago Cubs, Philadelphia Phillies and Texas Rangers from the mid 1990s to 2004.  He writes an op-ed for the Times, and it’s a refreshingly authentic and personal and fresh angle on the temptation to take steroids:

Human nature wants to put the brakes on that rate of change. While your clock is ticking, faster, stronger and younger players are setting up their lockers next to yours. They usually have better sound bites and lower salaries, too. In 1998, I was the new kid in Philadelphia, battling Lenny Dysktra for the center field job. Five years later, I was mentoring another new kid, Marlon Byrd, so he could replace me. Faced with that rate of career atrophy, players are capable of rash, self-serving and often irresponsible decisions. Enter steroids.

The best thing I’ve read on it so far.

Are the baseball playoffs eating into your precious reading time? Why not do as Stephen King does? During Friday’s Red Sox–Indians game at Fenway Park, Fox showed the author sitting in the stands reading The Ghost. In an interview with Chris Myers, King said,  he “could read 18 pages between innings normally. But now that Fox is doing the games, I can read 27 pages between commercial breaks.”

Where’s the strangest place you’ve seen someone pull out a book?