Every Friday we at BBBC bring you a very special message from a professional athlete. This week's guest is David Eckstein, shortstop for the World Champion St. Louis Cardinals.
First, I would like to say that I am very happy to be a guest at Bring Back Bubba Crosby. I do not know Bubba personally but I hope he succeeds in all endeavors he puts his mind to.
I want to discuss a very important subject in my life with you wonderful readers. That subject is Christianity, a religion that revolves around the teachings of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I have been a devout Christian since my early years. I know I have been mistaken for being Jewish because my last name sounds very un-Christian. My father was raised a Jew but fortunatly I have been able to cure his dreaded disease and bring him over to the side of Jesus. Don't get me wrong, the Jewish community is very important to me. They will always be in my heart even as they burn in eternal hellfire.
However, I am not here to condemn the heathens. I am here to help you understand the role of Jesus in your life. Jesus made me who I am today. When people see me at the ballpark, they often think I am a young boy, a bat boy, a sick albino child, a sun-deprived mole person, an elf, a sprite, a white pygmy, a bat boy's child, the mascot, and a living lawn gnome. Despite my small stature (I am only 5 feet 7 inches tall) I have been able to play with the bigger ballplayers, earning the respect of my peers. How have I done so much with so little? Scouts and analysts like Mr. Joe Morgan say I am "gritty" and I have the ability to "outhustle" others. They praise my work ethic and my intangibles. I am thankful for this praise but none of this people know the true reason for my success. That reason is Jesus.
Jesus is with me wherever I go. He is with you too. Jesus is there when you are celebrating a birthday with friends and family. Jesus is there when you watch your favorite television shows. Jesus is there when you take a long walk on the beach alone, contemplating the universe. Jesus is even there when you committ sins, such as manipulating your penis to produce semen while having impure thoughts. Think of Jesus as a "super" Santa Claus. When you give your life over to Jesus, great things can happen.
Jesus was with me throughout the 2006 season. We had our ups and downs but I prayed extra hard everyday, knowing that Jesus would help our team make the playoffs and win the World Series. There were some spiritual crisises that truly tested me during the season. Jeff Suppan and I began a bible study program that was met with a less than enthusiastic response. I knew Satan had infiltrated our players' souls and they could not control themselves, but it was still frustrating when Chris Duncan didn't write his essay about the symbolism in the Book of Matthew. Our Japanese outfielder So Taguchi barely knew who Jesus was, forcing Jeff and I to consult the clergyman I always keep on speed dial. He suggested we flog our friend and force him to repent. After the flogging, we had a wonderful winning streak, passing the less devout Astros and making the playoffs.
Jesus made his presense felt in the playoffs. So Taguchi hit an important homerun in the NLCS, a clear sign that Jesus had forgiven So for his sins. So now prays with us daily and the flogging scars around his neck are barely visible. Yadier Molina delivered the final homerun of the NLCS against the Mets (who play in a Godless city) after I urged him to recite ninety-six hail marys the day before the game. In the World Series I hit very well, again thanks to Jesus Christ. One moment stands out in that series. It was a difficult at bat against a large, fierce Tigers pitcher. He was Goliath and I was the boy king David. I crouched outside the batter's box and offered a prayer to Jesus. Surprisingly, I heard catcher Ivan Rodriguez praying to the very same Jesus that I would strike out. Of course my love for Jesus is infinite and no one could ever out-pray me, not even a fiery hispanic. I ignored him, swinging at a fastball and driving it toward centerfielder Curtis Granderson. That is when the miracle happened.
I saw Jesus, aglow in a golden aura, hovering above the warning track. He held a sack woven from the hair of God. As Curtis tracked the ball, Jesus reached into the sack and pulled forth five angel feathers, each as golden as the morning sun. Jesus smiled in my direction. He tossed the feathers near Curtis and Curtis stepped on each one, tumbling to the ground in a pile of golden dew. The ball sailed over his head and I had a double. The announcers said the wet grass caused Granderson's fall but I knew better. "Thank-you Jesus," I said.
Jesus can help you forever if you accept him into your heart. I did and look what happened. I am holding that trophy you see in the picture, smiling gleefully like one of Jesus' cherubs. That trophy was not won by me. It was not won by the St. Louis Cardinals. It was won by Jesus. Next week I'll be back to discuss the eighty-four ways one can sin when being near a woman. Thank-you and God bless.
(Ed. Note: Holy shit, that crazy lawn gnome will never write for BBBC again)
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