Faith In The Game
STORIES BY ATHLETES OF FAITH
Faith in the Game is a blog containing submissions by athletes of faith. Each of them was asked one question: Tell us a story about a time when your faith was most present in your life. Rather than tell us about their faith, we asked them to show us.
These stories are oftentimes uplifting, and at all times profound, raw, honest, introspective and heartfelt. These are not the sort of stories you hear in a press conference. Some of them take place on the field; others, off it. They are presented without agenda or judgment. On many levels, we think you'll find them fascinating, as they pull up the veil on a side of sports that is rarely revealed but very often present.
This blog is moderated by author and father Ben Petrick, a former Colorado Rockies catcher thought to be the only professional athlete to have his career shortened by Parkinson's Disease, along with writer and father Scott Brown. In addition to their professional and family lives, both men are also coaches of youth sports. A selection of the stories they've collected will soon appear in a book, and together they're also working on Ben's autobiography.
If you'd like us to email you when new stories appear on the blog, please send us a note at info@imagine-books.net.
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My Kansas City Goodbye, by Joe Posnanski
The following is excerpted from writer Joe Posnanski’s story, “My Kansas City Goodbye,” in which takes a final drive around the city he’s called home for 15 years before moving his family to Charlotte.
One of those landmarks he visits is the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, which reminds him of Buck O’Neil, a man of great faith with whom Posnanski wrote the book, The Soul of Baseball.
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I came to Kansas City knowing nothing at all … not even what I wanted. I vaguely knew that I wanted to be a big city sports columnist. That was the biggest thing I could imagine when I was 29 years old.
The big city was New York, of course, it had to be New York. Well, Chicago could suffice. Washington might do. Los Angeles had a nice ring. Cleveland was home. Boston … oh, I loved Boston. It took time to figure out that the size of the place didn’t matter. It took time to understand that what I really wanted was to become a part of a place, to become a big voice in that place, maybe even to have a sandwich named for me in a local restaurant, to have my photo on billboards, to have my columns talked about in offices and factories and around the corner.
