Yesterday began as any other day. Coffee, some time with God, cleaning up the house, doing dishes, straightening and getting everything "just so" in order to soothe my soul. (Cleaning soothes me. It just does.) Then, about 11am, preparation began. You see, I'd waited as long as humanly possible to get completely GIDDY about what I knew awaited me. My first. postseason. Braves. game. I need to let you know right up front that I've been a Braves fan since I was old enough to toddle into my mom's room, climb up on her bed and watch baseball 'til time for bed. I was a Braves fan who got beer spilled on me EVERY single time I went to a game at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium. In those days, the games weren't hard to get tickets to because the teams were terrible. Also, the design of the stands made it very possible for someone to set their beer down on the row behind you, accidentally kick it, and thus send it streaming down the back of your shirt. It was a lovely experience. But it was baseball. I grew to love it then and I still love it now. There's a caveat though. I love BRAVES baseball. I probably won't watch the World Series this year because I'm loyal to my team, and when my team's out, I don't care anymore. I still love baseball, but I just don't feel any emotional connectivity to it when my boys are gone.
So...heading to the first postseason game of my life, Chipper's farewell season...I was unhinged with excitement, but I was containing it pretty well. I got out the t-shirts, set out my tomahawk earrings, gathered things for the children who were going to my parents house, we planned our Marta route, I asked Jeffrey twenty two thousand times if he had the e-tickets for paperless entry to the ballpark and then we were off. We dropped off the kids, got to Marta and began riding. My leg was pumping (if you don't know me, that's my stress-release mechanism...I pump my leg), so we were riding and I was intermittently clapping with glee. Jeffrey would just look at me and smile. He cares nothing about sports, by the way. In fact, as we were walking from Marta to the Braves shuttle, someone said to him "Hey! Who are the Braves playing tonight?" He just looked over at me blankly. I said "Cardinals." Now, THAT'S spousal support. He cares nothing about it and doesn't even know who's playing. He just knows it is making. my. life. at this moment. Marta and the Braves shuttle were a breeze (get it? because you get a Breeze card to ride...) and before we knew it, we were at Turner Field.
They were giving away 45,000 tomahawks at the gate, so we got our foam props and headed to our seats. We were way up high in the 400's and once we got to our seats, I was so glad. The view was really magnificent. We could see everything and I couldn't wait to get things started. The atmosphere was electric in every way. People who didn't know one another were all united in a common bond. GO. BRAVES. This was it. This was finally the season we'd go all the way again. It was Chipper's swan song. You could feel the anticipation...it hung thick all over the stadium. The starting lineups were announced and every single manager, coach, player, trainer and assistant was named and came out to line up on down the first base line. Fans were anticipating the big moment and then it was upon us... "playing 3rd base, number 10, CHIPPER JONES!!!!" We lost our collective minds. This was the postseason! The bunting hung all around the ballpark and matched perfectly the huge American flag that was unfurled in the outfield. Every hat was off, every heart had a hand on it and Travis Tritt, country singer and Atlanta native (of "here's a quarter, call someone who cares..." fame) began the National Anthem. We all sang, we were all appropriately reverent and as the second to last cliffhanger line rang out... "o'er the land of the FREEEEEEEEE"... the cheers erupted and we all finished together..."and the HOME of the BRAAAAAAVVVVVVEEEEEEE." That, my friends, is unity.
Now it's time for the game. Kris Medlen came out and blew through the first inning, striking out the side. I've never seen 50,000 people so in sync with one little white ball. Then, came Ross's homer. We knew it. We were going to win. Unfortunately, the game progressed and so did the errors for the Braves, the men left on base and the frustration in the stands. But...it's baseball. It ain't over 'til it's over. During the game we honored one of our country's servicemen and even in the midst of the frustrating score, we were on our feet cheering and expressing our gratitude for this man and all of our men and women in uniform. Then, Timothy Miller soared on God Bless America and once again, we were united. At some point during the game, two Cardinals fans came and sat next to me and even they were kind, appropriately appreciative of Chipper and not remotely obnoxious. It's just a friendly game of baseball after all. I leaned over to Jeffrey at the end of the top of the 8th inning and said "I'm believing for big things in the bottom of the 8th and 9th innings." Truer words were never spoken.
As we all know by now, the wheels completely came off in the bottom of the 8th. The most horrible call in the history of baseball was made, momentum shifted and most of all, some fans completely lost it. As it was unfolding, it was truly surreal. Of the 50,000 of us that were there, maybe 1,000 were throwing things on the field. Maybe not even that many. But, today, the embarrassment is over "Atlanta's fans." To be fair, the feeling that accompanied the actions was completely understandable. It was a hugely ridiculous late and improper call. But, in that moment...in the extremes between the total elation of a one out bases loaded scoring opportunity that could tie the game and the utter despair of a two-out ridiculous call literally out of left field, everyone's metaphorical cup got jostled. And, when our cups get jostled, what's in them spills out.
Interestingly, the unity from prior innings began to fray. And, as those 19 minutes of delay passed, there was division even among the Braves faithful. There were fans throwing beer bottles and actually hitting umpires with them. They were leading the charge of disruption and rebellion over what was an agreeably unjust ruling. There were other fans, half drunk, who were always going to follow the crowd, no matter what the crowd did...so they were throwing their trash on the field as well. Behind them, there were those who, though agreeing with the horribleness of the call, were even more angry at those throwing trash...so they began to swear and taunt and fight with those who were throwing trash. Then there were the eternal optimists who tried unsuccessfully to start chants of "Let's Go Braves!" to try and swing the momentum back in a positive direction. They were drowned out by the boos of their fellow fans before they could even gain strength. Then, there were the rest of us. We were pretty much dumbfounded by what was occurring and since we didn't have the benefit of radio and tv, an understanding of how things were shaking out was slow to unfold. Parents around me were growing increasingly concerned about their young children being exposed to this much language and mob mentality. I saw several of the parents in our section picking up and holding their children, talking to them, covering their ears and some electing to leave all together. What a sad end to a childhood postseason baseball memory.
The most astonishing (and ultimately convicting) part for me was that in the name of support of our team, fans were throwing trash and beer bottles all over our field, in our stadium, leaving our grounds crew to scurry around picking up every single bit of it. Just as they'd get an area cleared, more bottles would rain down from our people and again, our grounds crew would bear the burden of getting it cleaned up. As an announcement was made by "the voice" that continued behavior of this kind would result in our team having to forfeit the game, a chorus of boos drowned out his voice and more bottles rained down. Understandably assuming that maybe a face-to-face communication was warranted, our familiar Turner Field emcee came on to let fans know that while we are the most passionate fans anywhere, the way we were showing it was inappropriate. He attempted to spin the situation positively by encouraging us to use our voices and not throw trash. This resulted in boos...and more trash.
Remember, we all came into that game united. We all believed in the same thing and we were all pulling for it and united behind it. There hadn't been any outside forces introduced, like umpires, to cause our cups to get jostled. At that moment, no one knew what was really IN everyone's cup, we just knew that for the most part, all of our cups were Braves cups. It wasn't until the outside force of umpires was introduced and we were taken to the two extremes of emotion in a matter of seconds that the cups began to run over. Then, in no time, the real issue had been long forgotten in the chaos of turning on one another as we disagreed about how to disagree, making our own people clean up our mess and putting the entire game in jeopardy by our behavior. Through it all, the Cardinals fans beside me were quietly watching us self-destruct. Then, the game went on to its inevitable conclusion clouding the last moments of an otherwise storied Chipper Jones career by controversy and chaos.
Though I was completely shocked last night as I watched it all unfold, it's not an unfamiliar scene. As believers, we do exactly the same thing pretty quickly. We all unite together behind Christ, we attend conferences and churches and camps and conventions, we gather to link arms behind this cause or that because we truly believe in it and, when united, amazing things are accomplished by God for His kingdom and many are drawn to Jesus through the evidence of Him that they see in our lives. But, introduce one outside force (elections? fast food controversies, anyone?) and it's not long before we turn on one another and segregate into our various denominations and belief systems...excluding, judging and taunting anyone who isn't behind the particular line we've drawn. When we get jostled, what's in our cup spills out.
It happens personally too. As I watched the pandemonium unfold last night I was really glad that I wasn't one of those people with a short fuse and no control of my actions. Well, I mean, I wasn't one of those people last night. But, I was earlier that day when I got an email and immediately texted the guy who sent it to me with an incredulous "what in the world are they thinking with this???" comment. I am that person when something happens and I immediately get amped up and emotional before I take time to take a deep breath and consider a more appropriate response. I am one of those people because I have to be better about taking stock of what's in my cup...in my heart. Because the overflow of my heart is on display every time I open my mouth or respond with my actions.
“You don’t get wormy apples off a healthy tree, nor good apples off a diseased tree. The health of the apple tells the health of the tree. You must begin with your own life-giving lives. It’s who you are, not what you say and do, that counts. Your true being brims over into true words and deeds." Luke 6:43-45 (The Message)
The worst part about having sinful actions, emotions and words spill out of my cup? It's not just my reputation that's on the line. I weaken my own witness to be sure, but I also endanger the reputation of everyone that claims to be on my "team" and since I'm on Christ's team...I endanger His reputation with those who are watching. And, much like the Cardinals fans beside me yesterday, others may not have to wait very long to watch us self-destruct. I'm really aware today of what's in my cup. I'm aware of things that have been buried in my cup for awhile and that I've forgotten are there (until the cup gets jostled, that is)... I want my heart to be rid of things that will damage the holiness path I'm on. I also don't want people to have reason to disbelieve my commitment.
So, yes, I went to a game and had an experience I'll remember for a lifetime. But I'm also grateful for the wake-up call that being witness to last night's debacle afforded me and consequently, our kids. Today, as things have come against the kids, we've been able to ask the question: "What's spilling out of your cup right now?" They are allowed to ask us as well. Praying that the Holy Spirit keeps this front and center for me. And, if you know me, you're allowed to ask me...
"What's in your cup?"
