God and Big Mike

Today Mike Piazza announced his retirement.

Those of you who know me best know what a baseball fan I am, and especially what a Mets fan I am. I went to my first ball game thirty-odd years ago, sitting in the mezzanine at Shea, watching guys like Dave Kingman, Ron Hodges, Tom Terrific, Kooz, and a third baseman by the name of Joe Torre. But my favorite was always the catcher, Johnny Stearns. I've always thought the catcher was the most important guy on the field.

So imagine my joy when on May 22, 1998, ten years ago this week, in fact, Big Mike was traded from the Marlins to my own Amazin's. In 2000, John Stearns dubbed him "The Monster." There was always trepidation (from the other teams) at the sight of that big Mazuno bat approaching the plate. We came "this" close in 2000, losing in five close games to that other New York team…

Then the unthinkable happened.

On September 11, 2007, two airliners slammed into the World Trade Center in New York City. Another into the Pentagon. Another into a field in Pennsylvania. The world stopped. I remember That Day like it was yesterday. I remember coming home from work, and going to my church, where others were gathering. We cried, hugged, prayed. The world had changed, changed forever that day.

The next week was a fog. Images from Ground Zero filled the newspapers, TV, internet. The fire burned for days. Flags appeared on cars, houses, stores. But nothing was the same. New York and its environs were hit hard. We all knew someone personally touched by the tragedy, or we were ourselves. We all knew people there. Then something extraordinary happened.

The date was September 21, 2001, ten days after the tragedy. Before the Concert for New York or A Tribute To Heroes. Before any of us had heard or sung Matt Redman's beautiful song; Blessed Be Your Name. Before the war in Iraq. On that day, baseball came back to New York.

Shea Stadium, which had been serving as a disaster staging area for the relief efforts, once again was alive in the night. It was the first sporting event in the City since That Day. I remember the honor guard. The cops and firemen all over the stadium. The players wearing FDNY, NYPD and EMS hats. The date 9-11-01 on the uniforms. The darkened Twin Towers on the scoreboard skyline. Liza singing New York, New York during the seventh inning stretch. But what I, the 41,235 people in the stands, and the millions watching remember best was the eighth inning.

The Mets were losing to their nemesis Braves. Fonzi had just gotten on, and the Monster walked to the plate, dragging the Big Stick. Then it happened. Native New Yorker Steve Karsay threw the pitch, and Mike hit it.

It was tremendous, towering. The Monster hit 34 home runs in 2001, some farther than this one, some higher. But none this majestic. It disappeared into the night, and 41,235 people stood to their feet. I think it's still going . And with that one swing of the bat, we all knew. Everything's gonna be alright.

The TV showed two firemen out in the bleachers jumping up and down, laughing and smiling. I know these two guys lost people. But for a moment, they had joy. We all did. Mike did more than hit a go-ahead homerun; he hit our hearts out of the park. With one swing of the bat, the healing could begin. New York would survive.

God does this kind of thing all the time. When we are down, when we feel we cannot go on, when the darkness falls over us, He is there to lift our spirits and souls and hearts. When it seems the world is against us, God is on our side. He'll hit that pitch every time.

If you read this far, read on. Let God touch your life, lift your spirit, let you know: Everything's gonna be alright. You will survive. He'll get you through.

Mike will be eligible for the Hall of Fame in five years. Others in his Hall class could be Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, David Wells. Mike's a sure bet, first ballot.Maybe some day I'll get to thank him. But I can thank God anytime I want.