diving

Steve Lyons will be remembered as the player who dropped his pants.

The White Sox were playing the Tigers in Detroit. Lyons bunted and raced down the first-base line. He knew it was going to be tight, so he dove at the bag. Safe! The Tiger’s pitcher disagreed. He   and the umpire got into a shouting match, and Lyons stepped in to voice his opinion.

Absorbed in the game and the debate, Lyons felt dirt trickling down the inside of his pants. Without

missing a beat he dropped his britches, wiped away the dirt, and … uh oh … twenty thousand jaws hit the bleachers’ floor.

Within twenty-four hours of the “exposure,” he received more exposure than he’d gotten his entire   career: seven live television and approximately twenty radio interviews.

  Fortunately, for Steve, he was wearing sliding pants under his baseball pants. 

Now, I don’t know Steve Lyons. I’m not a White Sox fan. Nor am I normally appreciative of men who drop their pants in public. But I think Steve Lyons deserves a salute.

I think anybody who dives into first base deserves a salute. How many guys do you see roaring down

the baseline of life more concerned about getting a job done than they are about saving their necks?   How often do you see people diving headfirst into anything?

Too seldom, right? But when we do … when we see a gutsy human throwing caution to the wind and taking a few risks … ah, now that’s a person worthy of a pat on the … back.

  So here’s to all the Steve Lyons of the world.

Here’s to the Miracles, a choral group out of Memphis, Tennessee, made up of the mentally retarded   and the stout-hearted. Just see if you can listen to them and still feel sorry for yourself.

Here’s to the hero of the San Francisco marathon who crossed the finish line without seeing it.  (He was blind.)

Here’s to the woman whose husband left her with a nest of kids to raise and bills to pay, but who   somehow tells me every Sunday that God has never been closer.

Here’s to the single father of two girls who learned to braid their hair.

Here’s to the grandparents who came out of retirement to raise the children their children couldn’t  raise.

Here’s to the foster parents who took in a child long enough for that child to take their hearts— then gave the child up again.

Here’s to the girl, told by everyone to abort the baby, who chose to keep the baby.

Here’s to the doctor who treats more than half of his patients for free.

Here’s to the heroin-addict-turned-missionary.

Here’s to the executive who every Tuesday hosts a 5:30 A.M. meeting for Bible study and prayer.

Here’s to all of you reckless lovers of life and God, who stand on first base because you paid a price to get there.

So what if you forget about pleasing the crowd and get caught with your pants down? At least   you’re playing ball in the pros.

Most of us aren’t even in your league.

-max lucado