It was in a post-game press conference that we saw the true Curt Schilling. Sure, he had pitched an unbelievable game in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS, but in the first question of his press conference we quickly learned where the Boston Red Sox pitcher found the strength to complete his performance. Schilling explained that he has been a Christian for seven years and has learned over time that he cannot do anything under his own strength. He puts his hope and trust solely in God for the strength to do what is needed.

As an NHL player, I’ve never been quick to admit my fears, but I’ve definitely had them. When facing Edmonton in game seven of the 2006 Stanley Cup Finals, I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my athletic career. Leaning on God during that game helped me find strength to face my fears head on. We ended up winning the game and the Stanley Cup, a first for the Carolina Hurricanes.

The story of Texas Rangers' outfielder Josh Hamilton has been well-chronicled. Major League Baseball’s first overall draft pick in 1999, his career and future was derailed by drug and alcohol addiction beginning in 2003. In his own words, he hit rock-bottom on Oct. 5, 2005 when he stood on his grandmother’s porch, having nowhere else to turn after going on a drug binge. She took him in and under her care Hamilton’s heart was opened to God’s love and how much he needed Him to heal the brokenness in his life.
 

This year, the world of baseball gave us a very good example of perseverance. The Boston Red Sox, down three games to none against the New York Yankees, did not quit. They defied the odds and made something happen — something their organization had been incapable of doing for 86 years. They won the World Series. The Red Sox dug in and won eight straight games against probably the two best teams in baseball, the Yankees and the St. Louis Cardinals.

2004 was an interesting year in sports…
1. The BCS became the biggest college football screw-up of all time.
2. Hockey was shut down except for one night in Detroit.
3. Steroids became all too real.
4. Terrell Owens proved that he is a better football player than actor.
5. Coaches were hired, fired, hired, fired, hired, fired ... You get the idea.
6. The Olympics offered more medal controversy.
7. Shaq and Kobe split.
8. And Kobe had a little courtroom drama.

I love to run. It allows me an extra opportunity to connect with my Creator. It’s more than just seeing His beauty in nature, so much more! The longer I run, the more I hear His voice. Is it the physical exertion? Can it be the steady cadence? I think it’s more about just being quiet.

I hit the road taking my usual route. I crave the familiar. I run it many times each week and know it well. Halfway through, I prepare for my least favorite part: a sizable hill with a nasty bend. I’m tired and, yet, I’m far from done. In order to tackle this ascent, I need the Lord to carry me.

Hall of Fame basketball coach John Wooden once said, “A leader’s most powerful ally is his or her own example. There is hypocrisy to the phrase ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’ I refused to make demands on my boys that I wasn’t willing to live out in my own life.”

Too often as athletes and coaches, we desire to live a life we know we cannot live. What I mean is that we desire for our external life (the life everyone sees—wins and accomplishments) to be greater than our internal life (our thoughts and desires).

He received the handoff, and moved towards the line. They had him cornered, pinned in the backfield for a big loss. But next thing you know, Barry Sanders wiggled his way through all the defenders for a touchdown. Left standing in his dust, the linemen had to think, "We had him trapped! There's no way he could have gotten out of that jam." More often than not, Sanders did get out of the jams, and that is what made him such a special player. A modern-day football Houdini, Sanders broke through many traps set before him and turned calamity into celebration. All it took for Sanders was a small opening.

As a coach, my faith was wavering. I watched my unpredictable punter jog onto the field, doubt washed over me with every step. I never knew what to expect. It might go 40 yards in a tight spiral, or it could be a 10-yard shank off the side of his foot. Every kick was an unpredictable adventure.

It was late in the game and field position was critical as my team lined up in punt formation. As the punter waited for the snap from center, the unexpected happened. The gentle breeze that had been blowing all night suddenly transformed into a stiff wind. My punter handled the snap cleanly, took two steps and kicked the ball high into the air.

As March Madness winds down, we can clearly see the parity that exists at the highest level of college basketball. It’s been excited to watch the thrilling overtime victories and the games that have been decided by three points or less. Teams have matched up toe-to-toe, scraped, hustled and competed to extend their seasons for one more game. At the end of every game, one team has been left celebrating while the other has left empty-handed, perhaps stunned, that the game got away in the final ticks of the clock.

Have you ever noticed how we tend to judge ourselves based on our intentions? Even if our actions were wrong or the outcome was bad, we still give ourselves the benefit of the doubt. Why is that? I think it is because we know that our intentions were good. Most of the time, we were trying to help others or trying to do the “right thing,” so even if it didn’t turn out right, we still encourage ourselves.

Wright College had a football team of 100 players. Every player knew the system, except for one. He was lost. A freshman who had never played football before, and had walked on to the team. He thought it would be fun, but he was lost. Everything seemed foreign to him. On plays, he would go one way, and everyone else another. He was always last in drills and always making his unit run for his struggles. Many players did not like this freshman, but he was still part of the team — the body. Ninety-nine players and one who was lost.