Batting 3rd

In baseball, it's the manager's job to set the lineup. The general thinking is to put forth the best possible scenario to score runs in the first inning, grab the lead, and hold the other team off. To that extent, each part of the order is usually carefully crafted to maximize the individuals best talents with those of his teammates batting before and after him.

The leadoff man is usually the speedy, but of more importance is his ability to get on base - power isn't necessary, but a good eye and bat control are. The second batter should be as good as if not better at bat control than the leadoff man; his job will be to either get on base himself (should the leadoff man not be able to) or watch enough pitches to give a runner a chance to steal. Guys in this role are table-setters for the ones to follow, and usually have to be pretty cool customers, not panicking when they have two strikes.

And then there's the number three batter, usually the stud of the team. This is the guy most managers want hitting with the game on the line, and they definitely want him getting a swing in the first inning, regardless of who's on base. These guys can be rendered slightly less effective if there's not a scary enough clean-up hitter batting fourth, somebody who may not hit for a high average but usually has the ability to make the pitcher pay if he tries to pitch around the third batter. The rest of the way down the lineup is generally not "type" specific, but a scatter-shot of guys down to number 8 (in the National League), generally considered the Worst Hitter on the team.

In my baseball career (read: little league), I was a nifty little leadoff or number two guy - I rarely struck out and slapped the ball all over the place. I had just enough power to punch the ball over the infielder's head, but not enough to get it past an outfielder. However, I didn't have the speed of some other kids, so I spent a lot of time batting 8th. But that was cool - I knew what I could and couldn't do and didn't try to be something I wasn't.

In the vein of "everything I learned I learned from baseball", I've translated much of my thought process from the diamond to the classroom, especially it comes time for group presentations. In my school career (and when you've done it as long as I have, you can use that word), I've been the first on the dozen or so speeches every time but twice. Grabbing the audience's (or professor's) attention and then transitioning to somebody else has always felt natural to me. I've just always assumed that God gave me a talent and I'd better use it.

This past week, my group had to demonstrate our senior project. Because others in the class were leeching off of smarter lab partners, my professor decided to do individual demonstrations - not the whole group. I was completely okay with this... until I saw that I wasn't first. Nor second. I was batting third. What followed was a masterful plan drawn that could only be drawn up by the Master Coach.

By the time it was my turn to bat, the professor had already seen what worked - now it was time to explain what didn't work, why it didn't work, and what could be done to fix it. I was facing the equivalent of a curve ball, screwball, an Eephus pitch back-to-back-to-back, and I couldn't help but to smile internally. It was one of those moments when the ray of light shines down, showing the path of the ball, and you realize - God has put you there, in that path, for a reason; even though it seems unfathomable and uncomfortable to you that He would do such a thing, He did. And He's right there with you.

I've wondered for years (ten, to be somewhat exact) why God sent me back to school at the age of 26, the age when most people are settling down, getting married and starting families. Why was my life - and to an extent, my wife's - to be put on hold? I'm not sure I've got the answer to that question yet - may never have it. But this past Tuesday, God revealed more to me about myself and Him than I could have ever imagined. His timing and plans are perfect; He sets His lineup to succeed - you've just got to trust Coach.