#but i might end up saving for sunday + light cone (if he’s a 5 star which i’m assuming he will be)

[rainswept]

penacony looks like a mix of vegas and fontaine. which i am really really excited for. fontaine🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[gary36]

The Switchblade and the Cross

Why did I invert the title of a David Wilkerson book from the 60s? Because that book is a trash fire and I needed those words.

When I was eighteen I wanted to go somewhere nobody knew me. I probably should have joined the Army or started huffing gas in the nearest trailer park. Almost anything would've been more reasonable than what I did. I found Jesus.

I think maybe the world scared me. I think I wanted friends and went to the church because they wanted anyone at all. The thread that led me into the flock began online. I heard music and I liked it. It was local so I checked their page. I saw a showtime and I showed up on time. That's how I was first in line to The Gills' live show to commemorate the release of their first album. I got the very first CD and I walked alone into a dark auditorium alongside many strangers to see a band I knew nothing about. The Gills took the stage smiling. The crowd loved them. I sat quietly in fear of appearing to enjoy music too much in public, but on the inside I was dancing. They were catchy. I thought nothing cool came out of my home town but I was happy to be proven wrong. At the end of the show with the final notes still hanging in the air, the skinny redheaded keyboard player spoke for the first time. His voice was delicate and his manner nervous. He invited anyone who wished to come the next day to worship in the same building. I have a problem with saying "yes." Sometimes I wind up in strange places.

I returned the next morning and stood awkwardly beside the front door waiting for a literal miracle. I stood around a long time having believed church to be something that happened early. It was 7:00 AM and the building still looked secular. An incredibly muscular young man with a flattop parked his truck and walked directly at me grinning from ear to ear. From the moment I met Griffin I trusted him. He simply wanted to be good. He asked if I wanted to help setup and I of course said yes. Griffin asked me a lot of questions. He wanted to know how I found out about Flamingo Road Church. Who I was, what I did, where I was from, where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do, and how had I found God? I had plenty of time to give answers and ask him the same. Griffin and I traded life stories while we errected banners inside, scattered traffic cones outside, arranged about a hundred chairs inside, ran miles of cord to various places, positioned speakers for optimal performance, and anything else to make the show happen. Griffin was from Alabama. He was going to college but would have to leave soon to fulfill his duties to the Army. More than anything he loved Jesus, his country, and his girlfriend Niki. As we worked I constantly had to stop and shake hands with other people pitching in. New people were a hot commodity and I was just as tired from smiling and talking as I was setting up. When it was finally time for the main event the building was packed out. Every seat taken and still more standing. Everyone happy to be there. Griffin deposited me with a tall man bearing a small afro and a very relaxed manner. TC is the most positive person I have ever met. He listened extremely well and never hesitated to offer help or advice. TC just loved being among the living. He introduced me to a conga line of other very attractive people in college and as the lights went dark TC bowed out and headed for the stage. In the dark I found myself sitting front and center between two twenty-sonethings. A well dressed man named Nathan and beautiful short woman named Leah. When the service started I was surprised.

In my experience up to that point, church and the act of worshipping Jesus were deliberately painful things. Church was boring and long because it was supposed to be. Church was quiet save for an old Southerner scolding the seated sinners because it was supposed to be. Songs sung for Jesus were about the wretchedness of the singers and the hope that they might maybe receive forgiveness they didn't deserve. As a child I hated church. I spent my first two years of education in a Christian school and hated that even more. Even at an early age I found the Bible boring, wordy, and contradictory. In Sunday school I refused to color anything because I knew there would be no consequences save perhaps lashes with a switch back at home that I would no doubt earn some other way. At home I would frustrate my family by asking why it was OK to lie to the tax collectors or what the specific requirements were to use the Lord's name. My efforts usually led me to a leather belt. Persistence paid off though. When I was 7 I got to go to public school and I never went to church with my family again. My parents and all my sisters have a sort of mutual love and disinterest in Jesus. They love to sit and sing along but the idea of actually reading the book is just silly. It's HUGE. It doesn't make any SENSE. The nice parts like Heaven and the Ark will always be there to help them sleep without any of the fire, stone, or spears. Their strategy was always to approach me with the assumption that I believed what they believed and disregard anything I said to the contrary. It's no surprise then that to me "Jesus" was not compatible with "fun."

Whenever TC played his guitar for the congregation at Flamingo Road Church you knew that whatever the truth might be TC felt blessed. He was happy. The other people on stage were happy. The skinny redheaded keyboard player was up there laughing with the rest. I remarked to Nathan and Leah that I recognized the keyboard player from The Gills. Nathan simply smirked and said "That's Allan. He's my little brother." When the music stopped a man in his thirties rushed out on stage. He had jeans and boots with a suit jacket and dress shirt. He greeted everyone and thanked them for coming. A quiet dignity came over the room. Pastor Chris spoke for maybe five minutes before introducing the man above him. Everyone please welcome Pastor Troy. Troy wasn't there. He was on a massive television. Troy was in Doral Texas at the OTHER Flamingo Road Church. One of many. Troy was perhaps 40 and had a very high voice to be so large. He also sported jeans, boots, and dress clothes on top. Troy is the focal point and also the weak point of the whole event. His standard sermon is about 40 minutes. Ten minutes intro. 5 minutes quoting fragments of scripture. 10 minutes extrapolating his point from the sacred sentence fragments. 5 minutes of prop comedy. Ten minutes asking for money. It's not life changing. It's not even good at what it's trying to do. It's not a guilt trip either though, not completely. The TV turns off. Chris comes back out. Donation plates. Music. Pavlov would've been proud. As the musicians revived the crowd for a final sing along with capital G, Nathan turned to me and invited me to a Bible study that Tuesday night geared towards people in college. I wasn't in college and in fact had dropped out of high school but Leah would be there and so would Griffin and TC and Allan would if he wasn't busy and of course I said yes. A quarter billion handshakes later it was time to leave and I offered to help put the stuff away that I had set up. Griffin and the others just laughed, they had two more identical services in the next few hours. Somebody from the final group would organize a team to put the stuff away. By 3 PM the building would be secular again. Flamingo Road Church would be locked up and its flock scattered to the winds.

On Tuesday we met at Leah's house because it was very neat and clean with a big living room. She took hosting seriously and usually had snacks available and candles everywhere. I had trouble finding the place and when I got there I was faced with about twenty beautiful people sitting cross-legged on Leah's carpet. Everyone was very happy to be there and greeted me warmly. Most of them I met briefly before but for the very first time I got to shake Allan's hand and tell him I loved his music. Allan was shy brushed off the praise. Over the course of the next year I would spend at least three days a week with these people and the routine became second nature. On Sunday I tried to arrive early to help get the building ready. We jammed out with the band. Thought a little about Jesus. Talked about money. Jammed out again. Every week it seemed we stuck around longer and longer just to talk. On Tuesday we met up for Bible study. Nathan was the College Minister as it turns out, so it was his job to pick talking points for us that went with the church's theme that week. He also presided over all discussion, having had the most Christian Theology classes. Usually Nathan would ask a question and ask everyone to turn to some page or other. Then we would have an open discussion about the ideas. Everyone shined in their own way. Griffin was earnest and to the point. Leah was thoughtful and patient. TC was wise beyond his years. Sarah (a social worker) had so much real life experience to lend to her ideas. Russell had a knack for explaining complex ideas with clever metaphors. Ashley made everyone laugh and always told the truth even when it hurt. Ryan was open and strong. Allan was humble under all circumstances. Niki was hard working and well traveled. Sarah (bank teller) was quiet but sharp. I did what I do, poke holes in things, happy to be the black sheep which placed me at odds with Nathan who had the job of being smartest guy in the room. Nathan might have us watch a video and then reiterate the video's point saying something like "Prayer is not a conversation with God, but living your life in tune with God." I said that reminded me a lot of a lesson from Zen bhuddism in which meditation is not a state of mind but a state of being. Nathan did not like this. Nor did he like it when I compared and contrasted creation myths from Norse and Egyptian mythology with the Garden of Eden. He bit his tongue when I quoted the Book of Enoch but riled at me for knowing a few sentences from the Quran. Nathan made it clear that my ideas were born out of a lack of understanding scripture. In all categories the Bible was superior and unique, and Nathan was its one true interpretor. Usually after our talks the guys and gals would split up. The women would go to Leah's room and shut the door, what went on in there I cannot imagine. Mostly the men talked about masturbating and how ashamed they were. One by one the men would be asked to say anything they'd been struggling with. Griffin was struggling with waiting until marriage to be intimate with Niki, which resulted in his struggle not to masturbate. Russell broke out into tears and admitted that he had struggled with pornography and had gone to great lengths to keep himself from it. The other men had similar stories. When it was my turn to speak I told the truth. I felt like I masturbated a perfectly respectable amount and couldn't see how Jesus could blame me so I didn't feel the least bit guilty. What I struggled with was faith itself. Not the existence of a Sky King but the bizarre nature and maddening decisions of that creature if it did exist. I struggled with God's insanity and how I was expected to react to it. As it turns out, masturbation is the right answer, and my struggle was met with awkward silence. Nathan basically told me that God worked in mysterious ways and to let Jesus into my heart. Russell said that God's plan was like a grand painting, but I was trying to view it through a microscope, so of course some parts seemed bad. I kept going but my struggle went with me.

Then one day Rachel was there. Rachel was new in town. She took on the responsibility of watching everybody's kids during the worship services. She was great with children and was studying to be a teacher. Rachel was outspoken and boiling over with cheer. She was always coming up with activities for the kids. Rachel worked constantly and usually did so while singing and dancing. She talked just much with her hands as her words. We started doing everything together. Kids stress me out but every Sunday I found myself watching her watch the kids and occasionally moving something heavy or making sure nobody died while she left the room. I left all the discipline to Rachel because kids just obeyed her without question. She spoke their language. She watched their TV shows. She tried to convince me to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. I tried to convince her to read Crime and Punishment. We made a good team because Rachel was like a human bubble bath and I was a tar pit. Rachel used to run up behind me and almost throw me to the ground with her arms wrapped around me. We watched the Winter Olympics with some other people from the Bible study group. Shaun White demolished the competition. Rachel fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.

I still felt like an outsider. Like the black sheep, but Rachel made me feel like that would go away with time. On the day before her birthday Rachel invited me to her place for dinner. I helped her set up for the party and I showed her how to start a fire. She made dinner. While we were eating Rachel casually mentioned her boyfriend in South Florida would be taking a break from his motorcycle repair classes to visit her. Something inside me went out like a candle. I pretended not to be surprised and finished dinner with my pride intact. She hugs me goodbye and she always hugged firm.

The next thing I know I'm driving down the highway and it's dark and rainy and it's so damn cold. Griffin was off to the Middle East. Russell moved away for work. Ryan moved away for school. Leah was on a missionary trip. Allan quit The Gills because Nathan told him he could use his music to serve God. Sarah was graduating and wouldn't have time for the college Bible study after. TC had to move away with his younger sister because they had no parents left. Nathan was promoted to assistant Pastor and passed his old position on to an even bigger know it all. Rachel had a boyfriend in South Florida going to school to fix motorcycles. How did I not know that? Just as suddenly as they'd come I had no one. I wondered how I got there in the first place. Wasn't I running away from know it all guys like Nathan and motorcycle boyfriends from a long time ago? It wasn't so much the motorcycle but the school that bugged me. Something about the structural approach being imposed on something inherently rebellious. Something about the prepackaged clean campus somewhere devoid of one Hell's Angel or Outlaw. It was on hollow thoughts like this that my mind dwelled when something ran out into the road. It was so dark and so wet I didn't stop in time. One almighty shudder and the squealing of my brakes. I rushed out into the downpoor. My head lights clearly illuminated a whimpering bloody coyote. It couldn't walk. It could hardly breathe. I was hours from a wildlife sanctuary. It was 2 AM. I was almost out of gas. I had a pocket knife because back then I always did. I knew I had a choice. Pull the coyote off the road and move on or help it cross over. Nathan said animals didn't have souls. I said they did and some men didn't. In the end I couldn't make the choice. I just knelt there blocking the desolate road in the middle of a frigid flash flood, running my hand across the beast's fur until he breathed no more. The car ran out of gas long before. I got them both out of the road. I walked a couple miles to the nearest gas station shivering the whole way. I never went back to church. No one ever called. I know what I did to deserve it. God damn it I know. But what the hell did the coyote do to deserve me?

[hottytoddynews]

My first paying job in life came early. I was 6 years old. Reed Green, the athletic director at then-Mississippi Southern College, paid me to chase down foul balls at baseball games at the old ballpark, now a football practice field.

There was a lot running involved, some dodging of traffic. And it definitely required some people skills. Think not? You try talking a college student out of a shiny, new baseball that he just picked up on his way to class.

At game’s end, Green would hand me a silver dollar. I thought I was rich. No telling how much money my work saved the penny-pinching MSC baseball program.

I well remember those games. All were day games because there were no lights. The few fans who attended sat in one small stand of wooden bleachers. There was no charge for admission. There were a few moms and dads and girlfriends, and as my daddy used to put it, “Some folks who just lost their away and wondered by.”

The “press box” was a card table behind the chicken wire screen at home plate. By season’s end, many of the Southern players hit with bats that were nailed together. (Yes, young readers, there was a time when college baseball was played with wooden bats. At Southern, when all the bats were broken, they just started nailing them back together.)

You might wonder why Green didn’t use that old trick of having fans return foul balls to the concession stand for a free snow cone or soft drink. It’s simple. There was no concession stand.

It wasn’t that much different elsewhere in Mississippi. I rode with my dad to baseball games in Oxford, Starkville and Cleveland. The college baseball scenes in those locales were spartan. (I well remember covering games at the old ballpark at Ole Miss, where you would see the players sprinting down the street between innings to get to a bathroom. There were no facilities at the ballpark.)

College baseball, back in 1960s, was something mostly basketball and football players did for the fun of it. They scheduled about 24-25 games a year and often didn’t play that many because of rainouts. (There were no tarps to cover the fields.)

Now, college baseball is a happening, and our Mississippi schools are quite proficient at it.

I bring all this up because we are embarking on a new baseball season in Mississippi. And, man oh man, how the college game has changed over the past half century.

First and foremost, you have to pay to get in the games these days. If you are lucky enough to get a foul ball, you have yourself a souvenir. If you have the bucks – big bucks – you can sit in luxury suites and watch the replays on TVs.

This past weekend I was in Oxford for basketball games Saturday and Sunday and stopped by the ballpark early on a cool, damp Sunday afternoon. There were more folks, sitting in a drizzling rain, watching a scrimmage game than you would sometimes see at real games 50 years ago. (And they didn’t have to run elsewhere between innings to use the bathroom.)

Ole Miss, with the No. 1 recruiting class in the nation, will open the season at home this weekend against No. 2 ranked East Carolina. Rebel coach Mike Bianco, asked why he would break in so many young players against such a good team, smiled. “Well, they weren’t that good when we scheduled them three years ago,” he said.

Mississippi State, under new coach Andy Cannizaro, will play four home games in three days against Texas Tech and Western Illinois.

Southern Miss, where nobody is paid to chase down foul balls these days, will play a three-game set against Northeastern.

All three teams expect to be really good and challenge for NCAA Tournament bids. Division II power Delta State is already off to a 5-1 start.

All the Mississippi schools have been boosted by mostly spring-like weather in January and early February. So in the words of the immortal (and often chided) umpire, let’s “Play ball.”

And just keep it if they happen to hit it to you.

Rick Cleveland is a Jackson-based syndicated columnist. His email address is rcleveland@mississippitoday.org.

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