No One Died, But.....

It was a strange way to begin a sports talk radio show..."Nobody died, but......" The conclusion of the statement was, "can you believe what has happened to Stephen Strasburg?" Of course, what motivated this maudlin opening was the just-broken news that Nationals star pitcher Stephen Strasburg would probably miss at least a year, perhaps more, because of a torn ligament in his elbow that would require surgical repair. Nationals General Manager Mike Rizzo was interviewed later in the show, and with tongue placed firmly in cheek, he said, "We're not quite ready for the funeral yet." No, a life had not been lost, but perhaps what was slowly ebbing away were the dying dreams of Nationals fans, hungry for a winner, whose hopes and dreams had been placed squarely on the shoulders, or should I say, the 102 m.p.h. fastball, of Stephen Strasburg.

I was in Nationals Stadium the night Strasburg debuted, and it was a wondrous occasion. Every pitch was celebrated, every strikeout highlighted on the scoreboard. The delerious fans cheered continuously after he was taken out of the game until he stepped back out of the dugout and waved his cap in recognition that he was the great hope for a baseball team previously consigned to the cellar of the National League East. Ticket stubs were being bought that night as fans left the stadium by speculators who assumed they would one day be worth a goldmine. Now, in the immediate aftermath of an MRI report, it wasn't a great stretch for some to speak of this moment in the same breath while mentioning life's last great enemy, death.

Sports talk hyperbole aside, I got to thinking about the phrase, "No one died, but..." This phrase is not unfamiliar to me. I have heard it used in a variety of ways over the years. I suppose it is a perspective builder, in a negative sort of way. "The good news is that no one died; the bad news is......" and that sentence could be finished in a number of ways. I suppose the greatest loser in this situation is Stephen Strasburg, whose injury could potentially end or alter his baseball dreams. The team may lose money, some fans may lose interest in the team, and sports talk radio will have to focus its attention somewhere else. No one died, but....

Over the years I have walked with many people through a great many problems. I have on occasion heard one of them say, "Well, as bad as it is, there are others worse off than me." Their attempt to minimize their own pain by focusing attention on others can be admirable, and yet it often sells their own difficult struggles short. For some, this is an attempt to pull themselves out of the mire of self-pity that often accompanies personal struggle, and we tend to admire that. Yet in all the pain and disappointment that accompany life's challenges, many are affected by the outcome, but none more than the one at the heart of that personal struggle. Nats fans are disappointed, but for Stephen Strasburg, the impact is the most significant.

Many folks around us are dealing with challenges that are significant...perhaps life-altering. Sometimes we stand at a distance and watch, wondering how they will handle their situation, perhaps afraid about getting involved. Those moments are not as much about how we feel, though there may be disappointment or hurt, but rather, they are about that hurting person and what can be done to help him or her, particularly from the perspective of faith, in the name of Christ. Jesus said that when we are reaching out in love to help others, we are reaching out to Him.

I believe it was near the end of the great musical, Les Miserables, that Jean Valjean sings, "...to love another person is to touch the face of God." In the world around us there are many hurts, many struggles. Some are proclaimed in media blasts, some often go little noticed. You and I have an opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ, reaching out, loving, encouraging, healing, for as we do this for others, we are truly doing this for Christ.

For Stephen Strasburg's sake, I hope there is complete healing. The rest of us will have to be content, at least for a while, with run of the mill 88, 90, or perhaps even 93 mph fastballs from our hometown pitchers. Maybe there's a lesson of perspective for us all in that.

Jim Abernathy