Redemption comes to those who wait, forgiveness is the key.
TOM PETTY, Lonesome Sundown
The mass appeal of sporting events is, I suppose, that it offers the spectator the opportunity to vicariously experience success and failure throughout the course of the event itself and, ultimately in the end, with a win or a loss. In football, every yard, every first down, every point obtained is celebrated. In baseball, each hit, great pitch, strikeout or defensive play is relished by the fan. Conversely, the missed tackle, blown coverage, homer ball, or error is often the cause of spectator hand-wringing and teeth-gnashing.
But one play does not a game make, usually, though it is often heard that such-and-such play or so-and-so player either won it for us or cost us the game. The beauty of team sports, however, is that the end result is much more likely to depend upon the play of the whole team, and the culmination of numerous plays throughout the contest. So failure, even a glaring one, often leaves a glimmer of hope for redemption.
I think Russ Gliadon and Alexi Casilla know what I mean.
Historically, not much has been expected of Johnnie kickers, although it has grown in importance over the years. We have come to expect that a touchdown is 7 points, the “extra” point all but a given. And a tag-up from 3rd base on a pop fly with the game on the line is something a speedy player is just supposed to get done – game over.
As they say, however, “That’s why they play the game.”
When SJU did not tie Bethel with time a-wasting, the air went out of the place and Mr. Gliadon surely felt like it was all on him, he let the team down. As fate would have it, the unlikeliest of opportunities landed in his lap just minutes later. Redemption could be his, and St. John’s’, if he could just kick a ball through the uprights from farther back than any Johnnie has ever done before. Throughout the 4th quarter on Saturday I would look at the flags around the field, and they were mostly limp. As it became evident that such a field goal would be the only thing to save the day, I looked again at the flags, and saw that a whisper of wind had developed from the north, Gliadon’s back, as if God knew what was at stake and what was resting on this young man’s shoulders.
He kicked and we watched and we waited, and the ball had just enough to clear the crossbar.
Amen!