St Petersburg, Florida, 1980
In St. Pete we studied the Bible. A dentist and his Mrs. called the players and wives together for devotionals. Because we rented a house with two couches, the lessons were held at our home. The shortstop came clean—he was looking for dope near a fence, and found a palm-sized Bible instead. His girl, Mary, came all the way from California to wed in a fan’s backyard.
The more schooling we had, the less we’d believe, the dentist said. He pinned a map of the holy land on our living room wall, pointed and smiled while we followed the feet of Jesus. That summer I asked Him to forgive me—we bowed our heads, held hands, and prayed to win.