The Jackie Robinson of Presidential Politics

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 
Philippians 4:8

When Branch Rickey was looking for a candidate to integrate professional baseball, he needed a gifted athlete, of course, but he also needed a man who could endure the inevitable epithets and slurs without striking back. Jackie Robinson was that remarkable mixture of spectacular ability, fierce competitive spirit and personal grace and dignity.

Barack Obama has been the Jackie Robinson of presidential politics.

Last February, New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote an opinion piece titled, “I Miss Barack Obama.”

We were still early in the primary season then, but already there were signs that the campaign this year would be marked by what Brooks called “a decline in behavioral standards across the board.” And then he observed that, “Many of the traits of character and leadership that Obama possesses, and that maybe we have taken too much for granted, have suddenly gone missing or are in short supply.”

I launched this blog the week of President Obama’s first inaugural. My first post was about the Rev. Dr. Joseph Lowery’s benediction, which I had found very moving. The prayer began with a quotation from James Weldon Johnson’s great hymn, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” which has become the Black National Anthem. And it ends with references to the Hebrew Prophets. In between, he called on the nation to reject greed and violence, to embrace inclusion rather than exclusion, and love rather than hate.

But Lowery drew intense criticism for the last paragraph of the prayer, when he called on the nation to work toward that day “when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right.”

The blogosphere exploded with righteous indignation that Lowery had declared that white people had never done what was right. Lowery, they declared, was a racist.

It was nonsense, of course, Lowery was taking an old racist rhyme and turning it upside down.

It probably never occurred to him that anyone would take it as a blanket condemnation of white people. It certainly never occurred to me.

But that firestorm over the inaugural benediction set the tone for the avalanche of attacks that would follow President Obama throughout his tenure. The general theme would be that our first African-American President was himself a racist.

Among other things, the attackers declared that he was not born in the United States, that he was a Kenyan, that he was a Muslim, that he was a Marxist, and that he was the worst president in history.

And through it all, he maintained a quiet dignity. He never lashed out. He never made personal attacks. And he never seemed to bear any animosity even toward people who obviously hated him.

Last fall, the poet, environmentalist and theologian Wendell Berry wrote about the racism directed at President Obama by members of congress:

“Some of the President’s congressional enemies—and these may be the most honest of them—have openly insulted him.  But such candor is not necessary.  Elected officials or candidates seeking the support or the votes of racists do not need to question the authenticity of Mr. Obama’s birth certificate or to call him a Muslim, a communist, a nazi, or a traitor.  They need only to stand silently by while such slurs and falsehoods are loudly voiced in public by others.  To the racist constituency, their silence is a message that secures votes.  Their silence declares that no truth or dignity is worth as much as a vote.”

Remarkably, those who have responded to his presidency with racism also accuse him of dividing the country. The contention is that President Obama is responsible for the racism of those who have attacked him. It is enough to make you crazy. But through it all he has maintained a calm dignity.

In his essay, Brooks outlined three great virtues of the Obama presidency:

“The first and most important of these is basic integrity. The Obama administration has been remarkably scandal-free. Think of the way Iran-contra or the Lewinsky scandals swallowed years from Reagan and Clinton.”

  “Second, a sense of basic humanity. Donald Trump has spent much of this campaign vowing to block Muslim immigration. You can only say that if you treat Muslim Americans as an abstraction. President Obama, meanwhile, went to a mosque, looked into people’s eyes and gave a wonderful speech reasserting their place as Americans.”

“Third, a soundness in his decision-making process. Over the years I have spoken to many members of this administration who were disappointed that the president didn’t take their advice. But those disappointed staffers almost always felt that their views had been considered in depth.”

President Obama has made mistakes and miscalculations. Policies are always subject to debate. But his basic character and demeanor have been exemplary. 

We will miss him.


Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always welcome. Please feel free to share on social media as you wish.

Sometimes the Good Guys Win

8Finally, beloved,^* whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about^* these things.

Philippians 4:8

R. A. Dickey is one of the best stories in baseball this year.

At age 37 he is one of the oldest pitchers in a starting rotation. He is also the only current knuckleballer. His 18-5 record of wins and losses is second in the National League, an improbable achievement, since his team, the New York Mets, has an overall record of 66 wins and 80 losses. At 2.68, his earned run average leads the league. He’s also first in complete games and in shutouts. He’s second in WHIP (walks and hits per innings pitched), strikeouts, and innings pitched.

Dickey’s life has not been easy. He grew up with an alcoholic mother and was sexually abused by a baby-sitter. His refuge was athletics. But his path to the Major Leagues was not an easy one. He was an Academic All-American at Tennessee and was drafted in the first round by the Texas Rangers in 1996, but a routine physical showed there was something the matter with his arm. His right elbow was missing a ligament. Dickey recalls, “They thought they had drafted damaged goods, and I went back to Nashville thinking that I may never throw for a professional team again.”

Eventually, the Rangers did sign him for $75,000, a small fraction of what they had originally offered. He bounced around the minors with little success. In 2006, after re-inventing himself as a knuckleballer, he got another chance to start a major league game, but he gave up 6 runs and was immediately demoted to the minors in Oklahoma.

His minor league exile led to a baptismal experience that changed his life. One night after a game he decided that he wanted to swim across the Missouri River. It was not long after he waded into the water that he discovered that the current and the undertow were much worse than he had anticipated. "Every stroke was a determined stroke to try to survive an experience where I [thought that I] may drown,” he said. "I had given myself over to the fact that this was it, I wasn't going to make it. The undertow was pulling me down."

His feet touched bottom just as he was giving up and prepared to sink and let the water fill his lungs. He was able to make his way toward the shore where a teammate pulled him out of the river. "I look at it as almost a baptism of sorts," Dickey said. "I went into the Missouri River; I was hanging on by a thread professionally. ... And when I came out of the river, I ended up going 11-2 with a 2.80 ERA and became the Pacific Coast League pitcher of the year. I think when I came out of the river, I was so consumed with just wanting to live in the present well — wanting to enjoy every second — that I think that carried over directly into my pitching, and I just cared about each pitch singularly. ... And I decided that that's how I wanted to live my life."

The Mets are not on television very often and I have only watched him pitch once. It was a game against the Yankees and he did not display his best stuff. But he did show me something at least as important. After nearly hitting Alex Rodriguez in the head with a wayward knuckleball, he took a couple of steps toward home plate and shouted an apology.

Remembering Johnny Pesky

We are not dismayed by our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces endurance, ⁴and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

Romans 5:3-5

Johnny Pesky was the heart and soul of Red Sox Nation. More than Ted Williams or Carl Yastrzemski, he personified the team. He was the one constant over the decades. And like so much of Red Sox history, his story is centered in one play. For most sports fans, it is the story of a mistake, but for those who look more deeply, it is a parable.

In the bottom of the eighth inning of seventh game of the 1946 World Series, the Red Sox and Cardinals were tied 3-3. The game was played in St. Louis, and the Cardinals were at bat. Enos Slaughter was on first base and Harry Walker was at the plate. Walker hit one into the gap in left centerfield. Slaughter, who was known for his speed, was already running. When Red Sox shortstop Johnny Pesky took the throw from the outfield, Slaughter had already rounded third. Pesky turned toward the infield and threw to the plate, but it was too late. Slaughter had scored, the Cardinals had the lead, and the radio announcer screamed, “Pesky held the ball! He held the ball. Johnny Pesky held the ball!”

That one play sent Enos Slaughter to the Hall of Fame and kept Johnny Pesky out. The story was that Slaughter had scored from first base on a single, because Pesky held the ball. It was a career defining moment for both men. And that one play has followed John Pesky for the nearly sixty years since then. Years later, at a football game, after a running back had committed his second fumble, someone in the stands yelled, “Give the ball to Pesky, he’ll hold onto it!” It is part of the legacy of Red Sox Nation, like Bucky Dent’s home run and Bill Buckner’s error (another guy who, except for that one play, would probably be in the Hall of Fame).

In his book, “Teammates,” David Halberstam asked Dom DiMaggio and Bobby Doerr about that play. The real story is more complicated than the legend and it tells us more about the character of Johnny Pesky than it does about his baseball skills.

The Red Sox had been trailing 3-1 in the top of the inning, when Dom DiMaggio doubled to drive in two runs and tie the score. Unfortunately, Dom pulled a hamstring running to second and had to leave the game. He was replaced by a journeyman outfielder named Leon Culberson. The change was critical, because Dom DiMaggio was the best defensive centerfielder in the American League (yes, Yankee fans, he was better than his more famous brother, Joe). Culberson was a competent player, but not at the same level as DiMaggio, and he could not match Dom’s throwing arm, which was probably the strongest in the league.

When Walker came to bat, with Slaughter on first, DiMaggio motioned frantically to Culberson from the dugout, trying to move him toward left field. Eventually, he took a step or two, but not enough. When the ball was hit, Culberson was slow to react, and threw weakly to Pesky, who had come out into the outfield to take the throw. If you watch films of the game, you’ll see Pesky turn and throw without any hesitation. But since the dominant record of the game etched in the memory of fans came from the radio announcer, that was the image that stuck. And though most people think Slaughter scored from first on a single, Walker’s hit was actually a double.

Slaughter himself said that he never would have tried to score if DiMaggio had been playing center. And when Dom was asked whether he thought he could have thrown Slaughter out, he answered with certainty, “I would have thrown him out—at third!”

Over the years, when Pesky was asked about the play, he would smile and say, “Well, I guess I must have hesitated when I looked in to the infield.” He stuck with that explanation because the alternative would have violated one of Pesky’s core principles: you never blame your teammates. He would rather take the fault himself than blame Culberson for a bad throw.

People who knew him say that Johnny Pesky was a simple guy. He didn’t spend any time wondering what should have been or could have been, or why he had to be the one to carry the blame for the loss. He considered himself lucky to have been paid to play a game. And lucky to have been a part of some great teams.

In sports, coaches and commentators will often speak of character when their teams come from behind to win the game in the last minute or the last inning, as if athletic success had an intrinsic moral quality. But when I think of character, I’ll think of John Pesky, smiling at his critics.

Chafee Does the Right Thing

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more and no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought. 
Luke 5:5 (The Message)

On Monday Governor Lincoln Chafee did a very brave thing. He issued an executive order declaring that the state will recognize same sex marriages performed in other states, just as the state recognizes heterosexual marriages performed in other states. This means that those couples will have the same rights as their heterosexual neighbors with regard to health insurance and many other benefits.

We rarely see such courage in our political leaders. We claim that we value it, but my guess is that Chafee will get little credit for his courage.

Part of it is his own fault.

Just by chance, I watched the signing on Capitol TV. Martha Holt Castle spoke eloquently about the difficulties that she and her wife faced in getting both of their names on their son’s birth certificate, and she told the story of another woman who had faced many obstacles in dealing with the legal ramifications of her partner’s death. Both of these problems will be corrected by the executive order.

Then she introduced Governor Chafee. He thanked her for her remarks, smiled his goofy smile, and sat down to sign the Executive Order. As is the custom, he used several pens for his signature, and then he passed them out to leaders in the cause of Marriage Equality. He hugged everyone and then he stepped up to the microphone.

He grinned. He said something like, “this is long overdue. I don’t see how anyone could look at this room and not be in favor of marriage equality.” And then I think he gave a thumbs up. And that was it.

It was the perfect opportunity for a stirring speech about the need for political courage in times like this, about making hard decisions, about the historic battles for civil rights. He could have said those things without bragging, while making it clear that he was willing to do what others were afraid to do.

But he just grinned and waved.

I have met Lincoln Chafee just twice. Each time he was at our church for the funeral of the parent of a childhood friend. Each time he gave a short remembrance. One of the things I have noticed at funerals is that often when people share remembrances; it is more about them than it is about the person who died. Chafee did none of that. He is the most self-effacing politician I have ever encountered.

Lincoln Chafee suffers in comparison to his father. John Chafee was a great man. He had integrity and intelligence and a willingness to stand on principle even when it put him at odds with popular opinion or the leaders of his party. And he was an imposing figure with craggy good looks and a presence that commanded attention. Lincoln Chafee, on the other hand, looks like one of the characters from “The Big Bang Theory.” He speaks awkwardly and he moves awkwardly. And he has that goofy grin.

In a statement reacting to the Executive Order, Christopher C. Plante, regional coordinator for the National Organization for Marriage, immediately declared his opposition. “To issue an executive order recognizing same-sex marriage flies in the face of the clearly expressed actions of the legislature and the people,” said Plante. I think Plante is wrong about the people, but he is right about the legislature.

Lincoln Chafee is one of the world’s worst politicians. He is not an eloquent speaker. But he is not afraid of taking an unpopular stance. He made national news when he wanted to be inclusive by calling the tree in the State House a “Holiday Tree.” He wanted to be inclusive, and he was not bothered by the abuse and ridicule heaped on him. As a Senator, he was the only Republican to vote against authorizing the war in Iraq. And he will stand up for equality. I think his father would be proud.

A Lament for the Kicker

Turn to me, O LORD, and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
Relieve the troubles of my heart,
and bring me out of my distress.
May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
for I wait for you.Psalm 25:16-17, 21
For real football fans the two weeks between the Conference Championships and the Super Bowl are a secular version of Lent or maybe Purgatory, only worse. We enter into a wilderness of inane chatter and silly predictions. The history of every player will be presented as a morality play and the GAME will be talked about as if it had cosmic consequences. And in the end, most of the time, when we finally get to the Super Bowl it will not live up to the hype and the football will be lost in an avalanche of long (but clever!) advertisements, and a half-time show that will seem to go on for eternity.

Why can’t they just play the game?

But yesterday was wonderful.

And sad at the same time. The games were close and they were exciting. But in the end they were won on mistakes rather than accomplishments. The Giants won because of a fumbled punt return. And the Patriots won because of a missed field goal.

When he was asked about the missed field goal, Raven’s linebacker Ray Lewis said, “One play didn’t win or lose the game. There is no one man who has ever lost a game . . . It happens. Move on, move on, because life doesn’t stop.”

And it’s true. The Ravens had many chances to win. And the Patriots had many chances to put the game out of reach. But the missed field goal was the one that ended it. And that is the one that will be remembered.

Years ago there was a study of fan reactions, and one of the conclusions was that the pain felt in losing lasted longer than the joy felt in winning. I think it was a study of Pittsburgh Steeler fans. And I think it was during their great Super Bowl years in the mid-seventies. (And I could be just remembering it that way because it fits my narrative.) In any case, it rings true.

And within all of that, field goal kickers have a special place. Most of the time, we can’t see the missed assignments. We don’t know what a defensive scheme was really supposed to look like. And we don’t know how a play was supposed to be run. But we can see the kicker. And we can see whether he makes it or misses it. And it does not look as hard as it is.

So Billy Cundiff will be remembered as Scott Norwood is remembered.

A year or two ago he was in the Pro Bowl. And this year he was very accurate inside of forty yards. But none of that mattered on Sunday.

He answered the inevitable questions with class and dignity. The field goal was makeable. He just missed it. There were no excuses.

“It’s one of those situations that will strengthen me in the end,” Cundiff said. “Throughout my career, I’ve had challenging situations and I’m still standing here today. It’s something that is going to be tough for a while, but I’ve got two kids and there are some lessons I need to teach them. First and foremost is to stand up and face the music and move on.”

I would have been happier if the Patriots had just made a couple of first downs on their last drive.