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| Roger Clemens |
by Ben Howard
This is about sports. This is about sports, sort of.
The first time I heard about Roger Clemens was in 1997 when
he was traded from the Boston Red Sox to the Toronto Blue Jays. I was 10 years
old and I saw him on the cover of Baseball Weekly alongside Pat Hentgen and
Juan Guzman, the Blue Jays other “aces.” This may seem like an innocuous
memory, except for two important pieces of information: 1) I started seriously
watching baseball in 1994, when I was 7 and 2) in 1997 Roger Clemens was,
arguably, the best pitcher in the game.
Somehow, in my young mind, Roger Clemens didn’t exist until
he was traded to the Blue Jays. His story wasn’t part of my narrative until
that point and as a result, I have no direct awareness of the first 12 years of
his career.
This came back to me a few years ago when, after announcing
his retirement, Clemens decided to sign with the Houston Astros, a team close to
his home. I wondered what it looked like or felt like to kids who were just
getting into baseball for the first time, or really, anyone who was new to the
game, anyone who hadn’t heard that particular story before.
What about someone who is just encountering Clemens now in
this column for the very first time? What would they think about him if they
did a little research? Would they see the story of the legendary pitcher or
would they see the story of the disgraced former baseball player who’s
post-career legacy has been marred by revelations about steroids and myriad
court cases?
It reminds me that we always come into a story sideways. We
all enter the story halfway through. Nobody starts at the beginning; you start
in the present, live into the future, and slowly discover the past.
I bring this up because I think it’s something important to
remember, and I think it’s something I need to constantly remind myself about.
Not everyone knows the stories I know, not everyone knows the context, nor do I
know the background to every story, even though I’m always ready to give an
opinion.
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| Don't get this tattoo. |
When I listen to sermons or read books or blog posts, I
always stumble across these clichés. Some I’ve heard since I was old enough to
remember and some have become more familiar as I’ve matured and sought out
different theological spaces. You know them too, the preacher who mentions the four
Greek words for love, the Hebrew names for God, people who say the word church
means community (you can’t “go” to church), all sorts of trite, churchy things.
There are even new clichés; the friend who posts the Mr.
Rogers quote about helping, the one who Jesus-jukes every conversation to
starving children in Africa who need help, every single conversation that uses
the word “othering.”
I roll my eyes because I know they all have their flaws, and
they all in some way miss some more subtle point that I’m interested in, but
now I’m wondering if they’re necessary. I’m wondering that because we all come
into the story sideways and maybe these kinds of clichés are the best
gateway into a world which allows us to gain a deeper understanding. Someone,
somewhere is hearing all of these groan-inducing clichés for the first time,
and it’s resonating with them.
I’m part of this small group from my church that meets on
Thursday nights. Most of us grew up in Christian homes and we’ve heard every
Bible story probably a thousand times, a handful of us have even studied
theology in school. As a result, it’s easy to make these snarky inside jokes about
how different stories are told, and interpreted, and manipulated.
In the last year, a new girl joined our small group who didn’t
have that background. She had never heard the stories in Genesis or the story
of the Exodus or any of the stories outside of Jesus for that matter. One night
we got to share the basic building blocks of the Old Testament narrative with
her, and it was beautiful to watch someone engage with something like that for
the first time. Something that felt so familiar and worn to me regained a sense
of its awe-inspiring weirdness and beauty.
I wonder sometimes if my cynicism is bred by familiarity, if
I’d be more loving, more caring, more accepting and humble if I remembered that
people come into stories sideways. Too often I’m ready to dismiss everyone who
doesn’t know what I know. That’s arrogance of the worst kind.
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| Good question |
Everyone’s constantly learning, constantly discovering, and
there is no honor in discrediting people because they didn’t learn or discover
something before you. I mean, I’d never even heard of Roger Clemens.
Peace,
Ben
Ben
Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual
living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop
Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can
follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87.
You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
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