There's a version of faith that only shows up when we're winning. And then there's the version that shows up when you're down twelve runs, or one out away from elimination, or one run short of a state title. This past weekend, I got a crash course in the second kind.
I coach my son's 9u baseball team, and this past weekend we played in the state tournament. Six games. Three days. More highs and lows than I could've scripted if I tried. And by the end of it, I understood something about prayer that I don't think I could've learned any other way.
The Comeback
We came into the tournament rolling. Won our first three games without much trouble — the kind of wins that let you believe you've got this whole thing figured out.
Then came game four.
By the fourth inning, we were down 12 runs. Twelve. The kind of deficit where you start thinking about postgame talks on resilience instead of the scoreboard. But these kids didn't get the memo that the game was over. They put together an inning I'll be telling stories about for years — 13 runs, and a win nobody saw coming, including me.
Stepping Aside to Pray
Semifinals. Late in the game, we found ourselves in another deficit. I did what I always try to do in those moments — I stepped aside, away from the dugout, and I prayed.
And I'll be honest about what I prayed. I told God I was being selfish. I was having so much fun with this team, I didn't want the run to end. That wasn't some polished, righteous prayer. It was just true. I wanted more baseball, more time with these kids, more of this feeling.
A few moments later, my son hit a walk-off single that clinched our trip to the championship game.
I won't pretend I know exactly how prayer works. But I know that one landed exactly where I'd hoped it would.
A Different Kind of Prayer
The championship game was a battle from the first pitch to the last — back and forth, neither team letting the other pull away. And once again, I stepped aside to pray.
This time, it wasn't about me.
I prayed for the kids. By name. Ben, Maddox, Cash, Easton, Ty, Garrett, Grant, Hoyt, Brooks, Carson, and Matthew. Eleven boys who'd put in the work all year — the gym workouts in the middle of winter, the games in the hot sun and pouring rain — and who deserved this moment more than I did.
We came up one run short.
The Prayer That Wasn't Answered — Except It Was
If you'd asked me in that moment, I would've told you the prayer failed. We didn't win. The kids didn't get the trophy they'd earned all season long.
But I've had a day to sit with it now, and I don't see it that way anymore.
That prayer wasn't answered the way I asked it to be. It was answered in a different way — one I didn't see coming and wouldn't have chosen, but one that might matter more in the long run. These boys just lived through a weekend that taught them what a scoreboard never could: what it feels like to be down 12 runs and refuse to fold. What it feels like to fight for something bigger than yourself. What it feels like to give everything you have and still come up short — and be okay, because you know you left nothing on the field.
That's a lesson that outlasts a state championship. It's the kind of thing that shows up years from now, in a job interview or a hard season of life, when one of these kids remembers what it felt like to never, ever give up.
What Golf Keeps Teaching Me
I've learned a version of this same lesson more Sundays on a golf course than I can count. A bad front nine doesn't have to write the story. A shot into the water doesn't mean the round is over. Faith doesn't show up because we're winning — it shows up on the back nine when we're three strokes down and still walking to the next tee, still believing something good is ahead.
That's the whole idea behind Swing. Forgive. Repeat. Golf and faith both ask the same thing of us: show up again after the bad shot. Trust again after the disappointment. Keep swinging.
Some prayers get answered exactly how we hope. Some get answered in ways we don't understand until later — or maybe never fully understand at all. Either way, the answer is always for something.
"And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart." — Galatians 6:9
Lord, thank You for these kids, for the lessons hidden inside the losses, and for a game that keeps teaching us to never give up. Amen.