The Long Game
Unlike Baseball, God’s Mercy Rewrites the Rules for Our Spiritual Life.
It’s getting close to playoffs for professional baseball, and as someone who grew up north of Baltimore, we were Orioles fans – which is unfortunate this year because they’re already out of contention. Interestingly, as I’m writing this, the Orioles have won 4 of their last 5 games with walkoffs, meaning they scored in the final inning and when that run crossed the plate, the game was over. The other team “walks off” the field, hence the name.
I couldn’t help but think back to a couple of games I played in that ended with walkoffs – except we were on the wrong end. In both cases, it ended on an error. That’s the worst kind of loss because someone feels terrible, like they single-handedly lost the game for their team.
But here’s the thing – if you know baseball, that final play didn’t really lose the game. The game was often lost much earlier. Not capitalizing on a scoring opportunity in the third inning. Giving up walks that brought runs home in the fifth. That error in the ninth was just the nail in the coffin, the dramatic final moment that everyone remembers.
Look at a whole season and you see the same pattern. The Orioles are out of contention not because of how they finished, but because of how they started. It wasn’t the last 30 games that doomed them – it was the first 30 that put them in a hole they never climbed out of.
There’s a deep spiritual reality here that we often miss.
We live in a highlight-reel culture that focuses on the dramatic moments – the conversion story, the wedding day, the moment someone decides to come back to the Church. Those moments matter, but they’re not what determines the outcome. It’s the accumulated weight of ordinary choices, day after day, that shapes who we become.
The daily decision to pray or hit snooze. The choice to forgive your spouse in that small moment of irritation or let resentment build. Whether you actually listen when your teenager is talking or just wait for your turn to give advice. These aren’t the moments that make headlines, but they’re the innings that determine the game.
Here’s where the analogy breaks down in the most beautiful way possible.
Unlike baseball, our “season” never has to end in disappointment. Every morning is opening day. Every moment of grace is a fresh at-bat. Every confession is a clean slate.
—Mark Quaranta
In baseball, statistics are merciless. Lose too many games early and you’re mathematically eliminated. The season ends whether you want it to or not. But in the spiritual life, God’s mercy rewrites the rules completely.
Had a rough start to the year with your prayer life? There’s still time. Been striking out with patience toward your kids? The game’s not over. Walked away from Mass for months? You can still make a comeback.
Unlike the Orioles, our season never has to end in disappointment. Every morning is opening day. Every moment of grace is a fresh at-bat. Every confession is a clean slate.
The beautiful thing about God’s mercy is that what matters isn’t how you started; it’s that you’re still willing to step up to the plate.
In the game that matters most, we’re all still in contention. The question isn’t whether we’ve made mistakes or gotten off to a rough start. The question is: Are we ready to start playing like we believe the season’s still alive?
Because with God, it always is. That being said: “Go Phillies!”
Reflections by:
Mark Quaranta
