Posted tagged ‘Basketball’

Making Grown-Ups Too Quickly

July 31, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                       July 31, 2015

                                         

As a high school basketball coach and a middle school football coach I am around adolescent athletes a good bit each week. I love relating to them, seeing them create life-long friendships with teammates, and improving on their skills and understanding of the sport they are competing in.

There is growing concern about a multitude of things related to middle school and high school sports. “Helicopter parents” is a new term that is used to describe parents who are always hovering over their children to make sure that the coaches are seeing that the next Peyton Manning is right there on their football field in a twelve year old body.

We also have the “transfer craze”, where athletes are changing schools because School A has a better team than School B, plus the attached thought process that says, “I’ll have a better chance of getting a college scholarship if I play for School A!”

      Helicopter parents spend unbelievable amounts of money to have Johnny play for a club basketball team, go to several basketball camps, and outfit him with gear that an NBA player would wear…because if Johnny is going to play for Kansas, or UConn, or UCLA someday he’d better get started now.

And so grade-school boys are treated like celebrities and middle school girls start walking with swaggers because their lives are consumed with playing a sport…one sport…year-round…too excess, but nothing is too excess in the eyes of their parents.

We cut out the years of their lives where they can just be kids, playing whiffle ball in the backyard with the neighbor kids, catching fireflies at night, and having a sleep-over in the home-made tent in the basement made out of bed sheets and blankets and propped up by chairs. We eliminate the need for kids to just be kids, like it’s a wasted period to be avoided like acne, and we rush them into being grown-ups who haven’t reached puberty yet.

But the tragedy in addition to that is that when you don’t let kids grow into their lives it’s like cutting off a body part that will hinder them in some way at some time. Johnny gets to his junior year in high school and is sick of his sport, and he’s angry with his parents for making him play it excessively. Brenda’s knees ache all the time to the point that Motrin is her best friend. Tim thinks he’s a loser simply because he is very athletic, and his parents have told him he should be with all the money they’ve spent on him over the years. Judy can’t stand being around her dad because all he ever talks to her about is volleyball.

A life rule that we just can’t seem to remember is everything in moderation! Excess does not lead to success! In fact, more often than not, excess is the curb on the road to sadness.

In a few days my wife and I are having a cook-out for all the girls I coached for five years in high school. We will talk about some of the games, and a couple of our opponents, but we will mostly talk about what is going on in their lives now, the meaningful team bonding experiences they had, and the former teammate that passed away a couple of months ago. It will be a gathering of young ladies who have moved on in life and are understanding that the most important things do not have to include a round 28.5 inche basketball!

Making Decisions That People Yell At

January 26, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  January 26, 2015

                                         

There were groans and catcalls from one side of the gym, and, ironically, cheers from the other side. It was a “jeer cheer smoothie”, a mixture of abuse and praise that left you unsure of the quality of the taste. For the next hour and twenty minutes I received a lifetime supply of the sweet and sour partial satisfaction and partial disgust.

     Although basketball coaching is how I spend most of my free time when I’m not with family, I still officiate a few high school basketball games each year and a few Junior College games. If my calculations are correct this is my thirteenth year of blowing the whistle. Last Saturday I was blowing the whistle as the “R” of a three man crew. “R” for those who aren’t fluent in “referee language” stands for “referee”, and for that game is the head official for the crew. I talk to the captains, talk to the coaches, check the scorebook, and make decisions where there might be a discrepancy.

Saturday’s game was one of those hotly contested games where players from both teams were prone to make unwise decisions…at the same time! The result was that every other time down the court one of the three officials had to blow his whistle and announce a verdict. A decision had been made in his mind and the results produced people pulling their hair out and others jumping in celebration.

Most basketball games are not like. I’ve been wearing the black and white stripes for many games where it seems as an official I just seem to be there watching the players run back and forth…under control…playing smart…playing as a team.

The games, like Saturday’s game, where the officials feel like they have to continually render judgment calls are the toughest games to referee. It takes common sense, the ability to instantly slice a play into pieces in your mind to determine what caused the contact, how much unnecessary drama was added to the moment, who played smart and who played dumb, who wants a bail-out, and whether or not we had a similar play at the other end of the court. As an official fairness is paramount on our list of values. We recognize that their are two different parties with vested and different interests. No one wants to be the game loser, and each play of the game is just a smaller version of that win-lose scenario.

As a coach I know the officials that are wise and that I trust, and I know the officials who whenever the whistle is blown it is like a mystery is about to be revealed. It’s interesting that my “seasonedness”, or less kind people would say “old age”, has brought me to a point where I have very few disagreements with coaches who have been around for a few years. I have to earn the trust of new coaches, but, on the other hand, they need to earn my trust as well. When they recognize my fairness and consistency they know that the verdict of the game will be on them and their players; and, on the other hand, when I as an official see how they coach their players, adjust to game situations, use common sense, and manage the game, I become more open to hearing their concerns about certain plays and questions that sometimes I don’t even have an answer to.

Fans are a different story. Fans are spectators. Games and decisions are never to be determined or swayed by spectators. They are their to watch and cheer…and yes, to jeer. I watch a lot of basketball games as a fan, and do not always agree with the decisions of the officials, but I never feel it is justified or acceptable to yell obscenities at the officials.

Many people have asked me over the years why I officiate? Why do I allow myself to be subjected to such verbal abuse and ridicule. In an increasingly unpredictable world where people feel compelled to shoot one another, throw sucker punches, and intentionally minimize your humanity, why put yourself into that arena?

Because I love the game! Pure and simple, uncomplicated and yet sincere, I love the game!

Don’t get me wrong! I blow calls. I have whistles that I wish I could take back. I replay certain situations in my head as I struggle to fall asleep that night. I’m not perfect…far from it!

In fact, ask most spectators after any game and they will usually tell you that I was wrong close to half of the time…sometimes more!

Does God Care About Sports?

March 31, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          March 31, 2014

 

About a week ago our local newspaper ran two different columns from the sports editors in response to a letter from a young girl who was inquiring about the level of God’s interest in sports.

The writers gave some excellent examples in the affirmative to the question. God does care about sports…just not as much as we do! God does love sports…just not as much as some people who wear spikes on their shoulders, paint their faces black, and wear Raider jerseys.

Sports has an important role in our culture, but sports sometimes becomes our culture. The lines get blurred on what is healthy and what is fanaticism. When lines get blurred the weird and unthinkable starts sneaking in the back door that has been propped open. People start bulking up, but bulking up isn’t good enough! Sometimes steroids and other “Miracle-Gro” hormones get added to the equation to give the athlete an advantage for now…and consequences later.

Sports has replaced the Sunday Worship Service, ironically, as what is worshiped. People will go to a Saturday night service so they can watch the Sunday afternoon Broncos’ game…or just not go to church at all!

Once again, ironically, as a Baptist pastor I must applaud the Mormons. Last weekend the BYU women’s basketball team was playing a Sweet Sixteen game against undefeated Connecticut. The Cougars hung tough, but lost to the undefeated Huskies. But long before that game was played it had been determined that if BYU would not play a game on Sunday, March 30.

Wait a minute! This is the NCAA…March Madness…hoops hysteria!

The Mormons would not let sports shape what they firmly believe in. I find that level of commitment a bit lower in Protestantland and the Catholic culture.

God cares about sports. He cares about people realizing their potential and purpose. Shooting a long jumper with a fluid stroke that more times than not results in the “tickling of the twine” is a gift, but it often gets confused with purpose. God’s purpose for our life…I pray…is more than how well I can flick my wrist in the releasing of a basketball.

God cares about sports and the positives they can teach…the work ethic…the incredible learnings from being part of a team…the friendships…the physical development as a result of getting in shape.

He cares about the opportunities that sports can bring into a world that aches with disappointments and negative diagnoses. If it hadn’t been for sports Michigan State’s Adreian Payne would not have met an eight year old girl named Lacey who had been battling cancer. Sports, namely being a 6’10” center on the Michigan State basketball team, was the avenue that brought him into Lacey’s hospital room at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing, Michigan.

But it was a little girl’s battling for her life that brought perspective into Adreian’s life.

God cares about sports, and he also cares about whether or not we can keep a healthy perspective on things that are temporal and things that are permanent.

I still love shooting the long jump shot, although my knees seem to be protesting it more and more, but more than that, I love coaching basketball and being used to have a positive impact on young people’s lives.

God cares more about my impact on the younger generation than he does about how sweet the rotation on the basketball looks as I shoot it towards the basket.

The guy who mentored me in coaching, Don Fackler, brought that perspective to me. Don had a sweet outside shot, and if I was guarding him down low he would make me pay by scoring and also sliming me with his perspiration. He sweat more than anybody I knew! But his impact on how I coach now is seen in many ways. I never used the word “discombobulated” until I met Don Fackler.

At his funeral some twelve years ago now the aisles of First United Methodist Church in Mason, Michigan were filled with his former players…young men and women who had been impacted by him. Young men and women who were now raising their own children, or pursuing their college degree, or making a positive impact wherever they now lived.

I think that’s why God cares about sports, and that’s why I also care about sports.

A Guy Named Tom

January 21, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                  January 20, 2014

 

                                     

 

I went to college with a guy named Tom Randall. He had grown up in Detroit, gone to Redford High School, and had a tough outer core about him. We ran cross country and played basketball together at Judson College. Tom was one of the most popular students on our small campus. Being 6’5” made him stand out in the crowd, but he was also an amazing athlete, a stand-out basketball player.

This past week he was arrested, along with two other men, in the Philippines and charged with sex trafficking. Our tendency these days is to hear that someone has been charged with a crime and decide he is guilty as charged. Sex trafficking is a horrendous crime that is rampant across the world. To be charged with it immediately gives most readers a picture of the person as cruel and heartless.

Since I’ve known Tom since 1974, and I’ve seen his journey, I am firm in my belief that he is innocent. The evidence of his life is my convincing of his innocence.

Let me tell you a little bit about him. He became a follower of Jesus in the spring semester of his senior year of college. I would say his decision to be a Christ-follower was the result of the influence of a multitude of people upon his life…guys who played on the basketball team, professors, college administrators, coaches, and his wife-to-be, Karen. Shortly after Tom became a believer he began working in a factory in Elgin, Illinois, making a little bit of income as he faced graduation. He would go into the Director of Admissions, Press Webster (a memorable first name for us all), and talk to Press, and then he would look at all the Bibles that were on one of the bookcases in Press’s office.

“Press, what are you doing with all of those Bibles?”

      “Well, Tom, they are just there.”

      “I’ve got guys down at the factory who don’t have Bibles. They could put those to use.”

      “Well…okay Tom, take a couple of them.”

So Tom would take a couple…and then a couple more..and then a couple more. A little while later Press, who often had to travel for the college, came back to his office to discover his shelves of Bibles were empty.

“Tom, did you take all of my Bibles?”

     “Yes, Press! Do you have any more? I gave them out to the guys that work at the factory.”

     “Did you have to take all of them?”

      “Press, they weren’t doing anybody any good just sitting on your shelf!”

     That what the beginning of his ministry. Soon after college he went to the Philippines where he played professional basketball for a while, and then was involved in a sports ministry where he would travel around in the country, play basketball, and share the gospel. He began a ministry in the Philippines in 1979.

Because of health issues he and Karen had to come back to United States about fifteen years ago and Tom became the Chaplain of the PGA Champions Tour. He would do Sunday chapels, Bible studies, and be available for counseling for any of the senior golfers.

The last fifteen years or so he and Karen have traveled back to the Philippines for a couple of months each year. Their practice is to be their for the month of December. Tom has also taken a basketball team on a tour for a week each year, playing games in different locations, and then sharing the gospel. Their ministry, World Harvest Ministries, continues in the Philippines.

Now, after a lifetime of work and ministry, he’s being held in a jail. Karen has shared that he has been able to give Bibles to several of the other cellmates that are in the crowded room with him. So, in essence, he keeps being a proclaimer as a prisoner.

I don’t know how this will turn out. He has a hearing on Wednesday, January 22. He has a legal team that is representing him. For now we are praying and waiting. I hope you will also.

The evidence of his life is my convincing of his innocence.

     I encourage you to check out one or more of these social media information sites about Tom and Karen’s situation and their ministry.

Facebook pages:  “Free Tom Randall”

“World Harvest Ministries”

web site: “tomrandall.org”

Promising Basketballs

June 28, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                      June 28, 2013

 

On our first day of basketball camp at Grace School in Herrera (an area in the inner city of Santo Domingo…kind of like saying “The Bronx” as a part of New York City), I made a promise to the kids. At our first session that first day we only had eight children. We had planned on a hundred for each session (although, in hindsight, we are somewhat thankful that didn’t happen).

A couple of our VisionTrust bags on our trip down were filled with deflated basketballs that had been donated. We brought seventy-five balls with us and spent a good deal of time putting air in them after we arrived. So on Monday I opened my mouth and inserted tennis shoe, and said that we would give a basketball to each child on Thursday, our last day of camp.

Many basketball camps in Colorado Springs do that. I had just helped at a camp at the Classical Academy a couple of weeks ago and each of the fifty campers got their own basketball.

So…no big deal, right?

Yesterday…Thursday, after our first session…the one that had eight children the first day…thirty-seven basketballs were handed to kids as they left the 8:30-10:00 session. By the end of the day we had given out all of our basketballs…plus the fifteen that the school had…plus we have the names of the eleven boys who did not receive one yet.

I need to buy the eleven plus replace the fifteen! It is an expensive lesson on making promises to kids…who have cousins…who have cousins!

In essence, about a hundred basketballs, or the promise of a basketball, exited the building yesterday. And I was the one who did the training session for our team about the American tendency to treat the problem of poverty with the solution of “giving people things.” Poverty is really brokenness…brokenness in terms of a person’s relationship with one or more of the four foundational relationships: with God, with myself, with the rest of creation, or with others.

We often treat the symptoms of poverty without acknowledging the core problems.

So today there are many children in Herrera who have a new basketball, but they still returned to the same situations of brokenness in their homes and communities.

I guess my hope is that as they hold their basketballs they will think about the week they had at camp, the hope of Christ that we shared with them. That as they think about some of our daily lessons of jumping, shooting, and shooting an impossible shot, they will think about the lessons we taught concerning grace, forgiveness, and the love of Christ.

Last night we met two exceptional young people who are graduating from high school- Pamela and Delton- who come from very difficult situations. Pamela taught herself English. She spoke to us last night more clearly than many of us talk. She volunteers with VisionTrust two to three days a week, and wants to major in tourism. Delton, who looks like a six-foot Kobe Bryant, and plays like Kobe, grew up in an orphanage, Remar. He is heading to the University next year, but wants to help the children who are still living at Remar. He wants to major in computer engineering.

Both Pamela and Delton were redirected in the course of their lives because, first of all, God loves them, and secondly, because God grabbed hold of the heart of some people and made them realize that he had a purpose for the lives of a little girl and a little boy, but that purpose could not be realized without someone being obedient to God’s beckoning.

It makes me wonder how many children are lost because someone didn’t heed the calling of God to come alongside.

A new basketball will not change any of the lives of those hundred children, but perhaps it will help them to know that there is a way of hope, a place of grace, and a plan for their lives that will lead them to make a difference.

I still have to get twenty-six more basketballs! I’m okay with that!

Basketball Is Basketball

June 26, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                           June 25, 2013

 

On our second full day in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic one of the things that has become evident is that “basketball” is a universal language. As we teach it and play it with the people of Herrera, and we struggle to know the Spanish language, basketball is understood by all. When I played a game of three-on-three and got teamed up with two Dominicans we all understood “pick and roll” without saying a thing. We understood “give and go” without opening our mouths.

Basketball has therefore become a way of connecting when words fail us. It’s the bridge over the confusion.

The first two days of camp I have used fundamental skills and teachings of the game of basketball to proclaim the truth about God. Yesterday I used the perfect positioning of our hands on the basketball when we shoot it to talk about the perfect positioning that God’s hands have on our lives. Today I used an illustration about an impossible shot made possible to talk about how God can take something that in impossible for us to do and make it possible.

Basketball has become the filter to talk about the relational gospel. Tomorrow I will use another situation from the game of basketball to help me convey the truths of grace and forgiveness.

Herrera can be a depressing place to live in. We’ve seen some things here this week that none of us have ever seen before. The school we’re at, Grace School, is a beacon of hope in an area that many several years ago was rendered hopeless. Now the school is held in high regard by the community because the community has seen so many lives redirected and transformed.

One of the young guys who has been at basketball camp this week is named Christopher. His father is imprisoned right now, charged with a very serious crime. Christopher has been devastated by the loss of his dad in his daily life. His attendance at camp has been a time of happiness for him. Sydney Cunfer, a 15 year old exceptional young lady on our team, said to me last night, “We should pray with Christopher before we leave here.” I told her that we would look for that opportunity to happen.

Basketball has provided that opportunity to care, to connect, and be used by God to come alongside.

I’m learning so many lessons this week about my “middle-classism”, about how privileged, probably over-privileged, I am. That things I have come to expect are not necessities. That what I think is a need is really just a want.

I’m learning how to say certain Spanish words…and struggle in saying other words, but more about that tomorrow.

Praise the Lord for basketball, and the chance to talk in a same language with kids who we have come to love.

Plan and Adjust

June 25, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                             June 24, 2013

 

Plan and Adjust”

 

Today was our first day of basketball camp and construction projects here in the Herrera area of Santo Domingo. It was a day of adjustments. Kevin Hodges, heading up our construction crew ended up using his plumbing skills half the day… changing out a faucet…fixing a toilet…each a necessary thing that needed to be done…each a needed thing for the school we are at that serves 400 children.

The rest of the construction team ended up painting three classrooms in the school that were desperately in need of a new coat.

The basketball camp staff adjusted and adjusted. There, evidently, was some misunderstanding between the school principal and the students. Students were told that they could only come to one session of camp this week. She meant one sessions each day, either 8:30-10:00, 10:30-12:00, or 1:30-3:00. But some of the students misunderstood and thought she meant they could only come once…in other words, one day…the whole week. Our first session only had 9 kids come, but then our second session had about 25, and our third session 30. Evidently, word began to get out. When our afternoon session began, however…time-wise, there was only one boy there. We figured out it’s because it was raining at the time. Campers waited until the rain stopped. No parents were driving up to the school and dropping their kids off. No one drives up to the school except delivery trucks and motorbikes.

But by the end one had grown to thirty.

One of our groups meets in the sanctuary on the top floor. It’s cooler there, but the tin roof above it has openings that allow large puddles of rainwater to fall onto the floor. Teaching basketball in the sanctuary is fine, unless it rains. Then we must suddenly adjust so we can avoid people slipping and falling in the water.

So we went into Monday with a plan that quickly changed.       Plan and adjust, plan and adjust.

The student team members have been great. Sydney and Garrett Cunfer shared their testimonies in worship of Sunday. Samantha McKinney is a sweetheart to always wants to help people. Emily Lundquist is adjusting to situations as much as she needs to keep tabs on her diabetes and stay monitored. Hannah Lundquist is doing awesome as a basketball helper. Mason Ripple hooped it up with the young boys close his age; and Megan Lundquist got almost as much paint on the walls as she got on herself today…all with a smile.

We’ve adjusted to Dominican plumbing limitations. I will avoid explaining that too much here. We’ve also adjusted to showers that are two degrees warmer than cold, but feel surprising refreshing.

I adjusted quickly to Dominican coffee. Excellente’!

We’re adjusting to having translators, and we’re learning certain words that are helping us communicate.

God is in the adjustments! We’ll see if he has a different plan for Tuesday!

A 3 A.M. Start

June 22, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           June 22, 2013

 

I arise at 3 in the morning tomorrow! There is something awkward about getting out of bed before Starbucks even opens! 3 A.M. Is one of those times where you’re not sure whether or coming or going…or both at the same time, so you smack into yourself!

The early start is so I can arrive at church at 4:00, so our mission team can pack up, pray, and be on the road to Denver International Airport by 4:45. Several people told me this past week that they would be praying for us…from their beds that morning.

For the next week I’ll be posting a Words from W.W. From Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. I’ll post something each evening about what has happened that day…about the people we meet…the children who will be attending basketball camp…the interactions between our team members with the Dominicans, and also with one another. I’ll try to share with you how we have been blessed, challenged, and transformed.

Our team of sixteen goes expecting to see God work, but, quite frankly, I’m sensing that God will be transforming each one of us even more than the people whose homeland we’ll be visiting. I’m expecting that new revelations about our own lives will come to us.

It will be long hot days in Santo Domingo. Our basketball staff will be conducting three camp sessions each day (8:30-10:00, 10:30-12:00, 1:30-3:00) for a hundred different kids each session. And then from 3:30-4:30 some of the young men in the community have been invited to come and play hoops with us (if enough of us are still standing). During the 90 minutes I’ll be presenting a devotional thought to start with. We call them Buddy Basketball values. They tie some aspect of the game of basketball to the gospel message. Basketball is a great teaching tool to talk about hope, to talk about good news.

Each evening we’ll spend some time as a team debriefing and sharing God-stories from the day. I’m excited to see what God is going especially do in the lives of the men who are a part of the team (Seven of us!).

It all starts with a splash of hot water in my face at 3 A.M, and my Keurig waking up about ten minutes later.

Pray for us!

Being The New Old Kid On the Block

June 15, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    June 15, 2013

 

Last night I helped coach the girls’ basketball team of the new high school I’m be coaching at this coming year. Since I’ve coached at Liberty High School the last five years it was a little strange having a team that does not wear red. In fact, being color-blind, I’m still not sure what the colors are of my new school, The Classical Academy (TCA).

The other strange thing is that I had never met any…nada…zippo…of the girls before the first game. With the Black Forest fire this week both of our open gyms had to be canceled. It’s a little weird to walk up to a young player and say “Hi! I’m Coach Wolfe. I’ll be helping to coach you this year. What’s your name and what grade will you be in? Oh, and by the way, what position do you play?”

I guess you could say I was the new “old kid”. They all knew each other. I not only was the new old kid, I was also the only male on the bench. I stood out! My hair was short and my stomach sagging.

For a new coach, however, the players accepted my instruction and wisdom without complaining or questioning. One of the girls kept responding with “Yes, sir!”

New situations are tough for old dogs. They say that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but I’m also not going to roll over. At my age someone needs to give me a little push just to help me roll over.

Basketball is basketball though. Certain principles are universally applicable. The ball is round. The players all wear sneakers. Boxing out for rebounds is the same today as it was when Wes Unseld was playing for the Baltimore (and Washington) Bullets.

I take that truth into ministry and the church. The church is the church. We might emphasize different things, but the church is the living presence of Christ. Some meet in buildings. Others in homes, and still others in parking lots and parks. Some stress outreach. Others stress inreach. Some pray in tongues, while others pray in silence. Some give cups of cold water, while others give hit meals. Some have big budgets. Others have big hearts. No matter whether you are a new person in an old church or an old person in a new church…the church is the church.

Obviously, different churches hold to different beliefs, but there are still core beliefs that are shared by 90-95% of the churches across this country. Yesterday I sent an email to the pastors of our neighborhood churches asking if there were any families in their congregations affected by the Black Forest fire. My feeling is that the six churches in our neighborhood should work together to help those families if they have needs…no matter whether the family is Methodist or staunch Presbyterian.

The church is the church.

Seeing ‘Used To Be’s'”

April 6, 2013

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 April 6, 2013

 

My son and I are in Atlanta this weekend for the NCAA Men’s Basketball Final Four. The Final Four weekend is “an event”, complete with a convention center filled with exhibits, people wearing orange (Syracuse), blue (Michigan), red (Louisville) and gold (Wichita State). There is intense team loyalty. David and I don’t care. We’re just enjoying the event.

Another thing about the Final Four weekend is that there are a lot of tall people walking around. Very tall! For some of them age has not been kind! For others the resemblance of who they are now compared to twenty years ago is striking. Danny Ferry doesn’t look much different now than he did when he played at Duke in the late 80’s. Of course, he looked like he was about 40 when he was in college. Now he looks like he’s about 40 with minimal hair.

I found myself walking around “Bracket Town”, the name of the place where the exhibits are at, looking at tall people and wondering “Did he used to be someone?”No one asks that about 58 year old 5’6” white guys. (Okay! I’m really fix foot six and a half inches!) When you see someone six foot eight you wonder, especially when it is at a place where basketball people congregate.

I saw Rolando Blackman, who has been retired from the NBA for twenty years and yet I recognized him right away. Christian Laettner looks a little more domesticated than when he was going through his “bad boy non-conformist” days. Of course, my opinion is still filtered by my pain over seeing his buzzer beater shot against Kentucky. I was a Big Blue fan back in those days. Laettner was the enemy. Twenty years later it was hard to look at him and still not regard him as the enemy.

But then there were the hundreds of 6’6”, 6’7”, and 6’8” guys who were walking around the Georgia Dome who looked like they might used to have been someone.

Fame is fleeting in this world. People follow you for what you are doing for them currently, not for what you used to do. Our culture is very much a “in the moment” kind of people. History is not valued by many folk. One day in basketball practice I mentioned Larry Bird to my 14 girls who were crowded around me, and I was met with 14 blank looks. I then asked “Doesn’t anyone know who Larry Bird is?”

Fourteen pauses.

And then one brave young lady responded in question form, “Birdman?”

My mouth dropped open. It may have been the first time that someone had confused Chris Anderson with being Larry Bird. History is not valued.

It also tells me that my purpose is not necessarily to be remembered, recognized, or even memorialized, but rather to live my life with purpose, passion, and responsibility. I may not even be recognized as a “used to be”, but God has gifted me, graced me, and called me to make an impact in the lives of others. The impact may happen in small ways, or in one lasting conversation at just the right moment in one person’s life. It may be an impact that happens after a multitude of “reflecting Jesus” moments. The difference between wondering whether that 6’9” balding giant who just passed me use to be somebody and who I am is that I’m called to lead people to knowing and remembering Jesus for now and ever. It’s the best philosophy for a former point guard: Give it to the Big Guy!