Scott Freeman

So, Sheryl Swoopes has come out of the closet.
The first major sports star to openly declare her homosexuality while still playing.
Questions abound if this will pave the way for more athletes to come forward with the truth of their sexuality.
I don’t see this being enough of a spark to cause any male athlete to ‘fess up.
Yet.
But let’s not kid ourselves. It is coming.
It will happen.
Regardless of your take on the moral acceptability of homosexuality (I personally believe that it falls short of God’s ideal and is incompatible with Scripture) we must all agree that people are to be loved regardless of personal choices they might make.
But there is one thing about this story that bothers me.
It comes from a response piece by Mechelle Voepel. Here is the excerpt that grates on me:

During the press conference when she received the 2005 regular-season
MVP award in September, Swoopes said, “Scotty, thank you for being
here, believing in me and having the faith and the confidence in me
that I could get the job done.”
I said to another reporter, “Sheryl is getting
closer.” The reporter replied, “Yeah, but that nickname is
gender-ambiguous. She still hasn’t said who ‘Scotty’ really is.”

Excuse me while I shout: SCOTTY IS GENDER-AMBIGUOUS???
For those of you who don’t know, for some reason that I have never been able to adequately ascertain, my parents named me Leslie.
Leslie is gender ambiguous at best. Down-right girlie at worst. I’m not bitter. It’s just the way it is.
Hence, the fact that I have always gone by my middle name, Scott. I have taken comfort that it was straight-forward. I don’t get mail addressed to Ms. Scott Freeman. (When using my first name, I am ALWAYS thought to be female).
Now, granted, I have never liked being called Scotty, although it has been an unavoidable nick-name..

But now you want to come and tell me that my middle name is cloudy, too?

From now on, I answer to the name “Hank.”

So, out of Oklahoma City comes this story about a man who is a little too basketball crazy.
It seems that he was sentenced to thirty years in prison for shooting with an intent to kill and robbery.
As most convicts do, Eric James Torpy had a problem with his sentence.

It wasn’t long enough.

He wanted to honor his basketball hero, Larry Bird, by serving the same amount of time as Bird’s uniform number throughout his playing days as a Boston Celtic.

Bird wore the number 33.
District Court Judge Ray Elliott agreed to his request.

In Oklahoma you have to serve 85% of your sentence before you are eligible for parole.

Isn’t that one of the stupidest things you have ever heard? It reminds me of an old commercial where a guy is released from jail then promptly gets himself thrown back into jail by slashing the sheriff’s tires.
The reason? Because the jail had air conditioning.

It sounds preposterous to think that people would willingly seek out an extension of their imprisonment.
But, sadly, it is a common theme in human history.

The Israelites had a get out of slavery card. The Promised Land was theirs for the taking. Yet, repeatedly they voiced their desire to go back to Egypt.
Back to their enslavement.

In essence, they were asking to add time to their prison sentence! To spend more time in captivity.
Not to honor Larry Bird but their own sinful nature.

We do the same.
When we fail to lay claim to God’s deliverance we show our desire to return to an old life: a life of enslavement to sin.
God has set us free from the prison of sin and death. Why would we want to stay there any longer?

Yet, we do.

• When we fail to flee sin we prolong the sentence.
• When we fail to end that flirtatious relationship we imprison ourselves with lust.
• When we return to that same habit of gossip and back-biting we enslave ourselves with pettiness.
• When we continue to label people because of their nationality or economic background we incarcerate ourselves with hatred.
• When we persist in seeking out the creature comforts of society at the expense of giving to others we pledge ourselves in servitude to materialism.

God has blessed us with the ultimate gift of freedom and salvation from sin and death.
When we turn back to the old ways we, in essence, ask God to extend that sentence.
Why on earth do we do that?
Is there anything that benefits us by serving more time subject to the wiles of the evil one?

No, we can and must live free.
For when we live the victorious life of the justified then we see the power that comes from freedom.
And we see that glory in sharing that freedom with others.
We will long to provide hope to the hopeless.
We will stop at nothing to be Christ in a lost and dying world.

You see, when God sets us free He does not do so that we will still wander this world as convicts and criminals.
He does so that we might save others. That we might extend the hand of release to the oppressed and forgotten.
Salvation is not just personal. God longs that no one will perish.
If we, the released, will live the life of the redeemed then others will find the freedom we enjoy.

We can’t do that if we long to go back to prison.

Some observations I have after 4 weeks into the 2005 season:

• If Peyton Manning and the Colts offense gets on track, like it looks like they did yesterday, then they are the team to beat this year. Look for them, with their newly fortified defense, to finally make it to the big game.
• Their opponent? Philadelphia. If McNabb’s injuries don’t force him out. If McNabb’s insistence on playing through the pain blows up in his face (which I am afraid it might) look for the Falcons to be playing in the Super Bowl.
• Daunte Culpepper is not this bad. But he is an unreliable fantasy option for the rest of this year. There is no heir apparent to Randy Moss in Minnesota. It looks like a long year for the Vikes.
• Brady and Co. got pasted yesterday. However, let’s not pronounce the post-mortem just yet. They haven’t looked as good yet this season but they are still the Super Bowl champs. And Tom Brady is a winner.
• Washington is 3-0 and atop the NFC East? Yeah, enjoy that while it lasts ‘Skins fans. That unbeaten streak ends Sunday in Denver.
• Carson Palmer is the real deal. He had on off-day yesterday but he made no mistakes. Those of us who drafted him late are feeling pretty good right now. Here’s to the Bengals getting off the schnide.
• I would hate to be a Jets fan this year. I don’t believe in Karma but they need to be asking who they have offended. Calling Heath Schuler.
• Let the Brett Favre farewell tour begin. He will be sorely missed. Prediction: Favre will resurrect the Pack and get them into the playoffs this year (look at his division). And that will be it.
• Harrington hasn’t got the hook yet? Last I saw Jeff Garcia was sitting on that bench. Surely he could find that stable of receivers if given the ball.
• Playoff teams
  • NFC Division Champs: Philadelphia, Green Bay (my long-shot), Atlanta, St. Louis.
  • NFC Wildcards: NY Giants, Tampa Bay
  • AFC Division Champs: NE, Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Denver
  • AFC Wildcards: Miami (about to get Ricky Williams back), Cincinnati

Any thoughts?

I am sick.
Every year I get this same affliction. A burning in the pit of my stomach.
A gastro-intestinal distress that only knows one remedy: that my fantasy football players will perform the way they are supposed to.

Every year, I sweat out my team.
Every year, my moods on Sunday and Monday are directly related to how my quarterback is playing.
My demeanor determined by rushing yardage.
My inner peace predicated on clutch receptions.

Pathetic? Yeah, probably so.

Here I am. Sitting up at 11 p.m. afraid that Warrick Dunn will remain in the locker room crying about dehydration. Panicked that T.J. Duckett will score another touchdown giving my opponent the victory.

Ahh, Dunn is back in the game. A 9 point lead with 8 minutes to go.
A Falcon punt. We need a long, slow drive here.

Yeah, I’m pathetic. But it’s football time.
And I need it to get over my Hogs embarrassing defeat to Vanderbilt.
Vanderbilt for crying out loud.
Pass the Maalox. It’s gonna be a long year.

“It breaks your heart. It
is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when
everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling
the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come,
it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.” —-Bart Giamatti

This past Sunday was opening day. Traditionally one of the most anticipated times of the season for me.
College Basketball is done.
The NBA has yet to begin their 6 month long playoffs.
It is another 5 months till football.
But baseball has begun. America’s pastime is in full swing.

This year, however, I just don’t care.
And that makes me sad.

The cloud of steriods has dampened my enthusiasm for the game. The knowledge that the home run records that have fallen in recent years were done illicitly have served to distance me from the excitement that I typically experience when the first pitch is thrown out.
I didn’t even sign up for fantasy baseball this year.

Cheaters have stolen something from the sport.
From my love for the game.
I don’t know when, if ever, I will get it back.

Spring is sad this year.