Ragballs and Rifles

John 8
1But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group 4and said to Jesus, "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?" 6They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.
But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." 8Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.
9At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
11"No one, sir," she said. "Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."

With a baseball player in the house, we have ball buckets all over the place. They fall into three categories:
1. The pearls. Reserved for the pitchers and catchers. Very hard and very white. Top of the food chain.
2. The utility bucket. Everyday practice balls, infield drills, BP, outfield drills. In Alabama, because of the distinctive red clay infields, they take on the hue of a golden retriever.
3. The ragballs. The lowest of the low. Most are the color of the rust. The stitching is ripped up, but they do serve a purpose. Soft toss drills and tee work. Some of the balls in this bucket eventually need to be culled, as they don’t even resemble a baseball. And what fun we have with these balls.

You know, a boy from the Deep South can make a game out of anything that resembles a ball, and throw in a gun and you have a real recipe for frivolity. We are no different than Ralphie, in “A Christmas Story”, craving that Red Rider BB Gun, with one exception; the caliber and the price tag grows over time. I took about 10 of these beaters down to the gun range on the family farm and here is what happened:

Game 1: Skeetball: Invented by SteveO and his cousin Matt. Flip a baseball up in the air like a clay bird. Try to make a direct hit with a 12 gauge shotgun. My niece Katie, an adept photographer, took a digital video of her testosterone laced brother’s and cousin’s escapade with unbelievable results. Instead of powdering it like a clay bird, a direct hit on that poor Spaulding sphere resulted in a home run that Barry Bonds only wishes he could produce. That ball cleared the sandy pit of our range, over the 100 foot loblolly pines and rested in an unknown place among the diamondbacks and the possums on a half shell (armadillos).

Game 2: Rifle Golfing: Invented by the dads and the boys. Toss an old ball out on the ground, get my Cowboy Carbine Repeater (remember Chuck Connors in "The Rifleman”?) and blast the pitiful orb until it rolls so far down the range that you can’t hit it anymore. Call us the Clampetts if you want to, but it was great fun. The winner is the guy who could roll it the furthest. The ball, simply put, was shot to hell.

Ok, you ask. This guy is really a mad hatter. What do these stories have to do with the scripture above? Of note, it is one of the most hauntingly beautiful stories of the New Testament, save the Passion, in my mind. The image of Christ writing on the ground with his finger…the security in His voice… a man’s man, no doubt.

Oh…back to your question…I think I have the answer, but you will just have to tune in next time, it is still rolling around in the mad hatter.

Mark the Mad Hatter
Prov 17:22