Head to heart: I have fallen for that mushy logic the last couple years and we keep getting skunked.

Heart to head: This year will be different! Go with Duke.

Head to heart: It’s final. We’re going with Kansas. That’s a no-lose pick.

I’ve got:

Kansas, Kansas State, Kentucky, Duke
Kansas, Kentucky
Kansas

(Go, UAPB!)

What are your picks?

Which of the following, on average, would you guess is the second highest paid position in football (behind the QB)?

a) Wide receiver
b) Left tackle
c) Running back
d) Middle linebacker

The answer is (b): the second highest paid position in the NFL is the left tackle. Why?

1. Because of Bill Walsh. You could say, more generally, the West Coast Offense. But there were two versions of the West Coast Offense: one went deep and the other (Walsh’s version) went wide. Spread out the field. Send four or five receivers out for shorter passes, raising your completion percentage and extending the run after the catch. Sending more people out, however, left the quarterback more vulnerable.

2. Because of rule changes in 1978. No longer could a cornerback “bump-and-run” with a receiver all the way down the field. Now he’s limited to five yards. And offensive linemen, who formerly were forced to block looking like clothes hangers, were suddenly allowed to use their hands.

3. Because of Lawrence Taylor. If you still wince when you hear the name “Joe Theismann,” then you’re probably a football fan. Taylor was a QB-destroying machine. The new profile for the blind side pass rusher became that athlete who is large, fast, and violent. In other words, someone not easily blocked by a running back.

Michael Lewis’s The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game tells the story of why the left tackle, the person who guards the blind side of the quarterback from the Lawrence Taylors of the world, has become such a valuable position.

The new profile for an NFL left tackle is what Lewis says the scouts call “a freak of nature.” He’s tall (6’4″+), big (320+), quick, and has a wide butt, long arms and big hands. Think Orlando Pace or Jonathan Ogden.

Like Michael Oher, now a left tackle for Ole Miss. Much of this excellent book tells his story.

It’s the story of Memphis — a city with an invisible Berlin Wall between white and black. Lewis talks about the Christian academies that sprang up quickly with forced integration so wealthy white children wouldn’t have to go to school with black children. He talks about the pilgrimage east — as far away from the problems of West Memphis as possible.

But this story is specifically told through one young man: Michael Oher. He was a child who seemed to have no hope.

He was one of ten children of a crack cocaine-addicted mother. At times they had no shelter. When asked what he remembers about his first years of life, Michael says: “Going for days having to drink water to get full. Going to other people’s houses and asking for something to eat. Sleeping outside. The mosquitoes.”

For a few years they lived in Hurt Village — a community of about 1000 with no — count them, ZERO — two-parent families. Seventy-five percent of the adults there had some mental illness. Drug lords waited with crack in hand at the first of the month when welfare checks arrived in the mail.

By the time he was 15, Michael Oher hadn’t been to school much. He’d been tested, and his IQ came out to be 80.

But all that changed. I’ll leave the details for you to enjoy the book. But the short story is this: he fell victim to the love and nurture of one wealthy, white family in East Memphis. Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy (a former basketball player and a former cheerleader at Ole Miss) welcomed him into their family. He suddenly had a family, including a sister his age and a younger brother. He had a school to attend — Briarcrest Christian School. He had clothes and food. His IQ rose from 80 to 110.

Whether you’re a football fan or not, you’ll love the chapters on the recruiting of Michael Oher. Every college coach in the country began salivating when he saw tapes of Oher treating large opponents as if they weren’t there. In one game Briarcrest played, every offensive play consisted of giving the ball to the running back and telling him to stay behind Oher’s butt until he heard a whistle. They destroyed their opponent on that one play.

This is a hard book because of the despair. You realize that most people in the Hurt Villages of our inner cities don’t have a Tuohy family to help them.

But it’s also an inspiring read because this one family — this one white, wealthy, Evangelical family — brought a monstrous kid into their lives before anyone knew he had athletic super-talent. He was lost, and Leigh Anne Tuohy was going to care for him.

I was a campus baby, born eleven months after my parents got married. “We” were attending the University of Texas in Austin, where my dad got his degree in journalism (following a stint in the Army) and my mom got hers in English. They told me that my first spoken words were “Hook ‘Em Horns.”

Even though we moved back to Missouri when I was two or three, we remained Longhorn fans. Once every four years, they’d deck my brother and me (and eventually our sisters) up in orange and take us to the UT/UA game in Fayetteville. We were actually there for the “Game of the Century” in 1969. A few spots of orange in a sea of razorback red.

So, today we’ll be cheering on Colt McCoy and the Longhorns — especially since their last second loss to Tech last year cost them a shot at the national championship. I’ll also be hoping that Taylor Potts, the Tech QB who went to Highland during his high school years, has a great game. But in a losing cause!

- – - -

I had breakfast with Shaun Casey yesterday. Shaun is the coordinator for evangelical outreach for the Obama campaign. He was speaking to some students at ACU, his alma mater, following a similar appearance at Harding. That’s a man with some interesting stories! Shaun is a professor of Christian ethics at Wesley Seminary and a member of the Fairfax Church of Christ.

I asked how he could accept those invitations from groups at Harding and ACU this late in the campaign, since Texas and Arkansas don’t appear to be states that are up for grabs. Turns out he was doing it on his “time off”!

- – - -

I’m not even going to peek at my financial statements.

- – - -

Taking a brief break from the UT/OU game following a kick-off return by Shipley for Texas. Growing up, this was our family’s version of a religious holiday (since we weren’t allowed to celebrate Easter). The two big games each year (since my parents were both University of Texas grads) were the Oklahoma/Texas and Arkansas/Texas rivalries.

This is what I wrote almost three years ago:

I was a campus baby while my parents attended the University of Texas. Whoever didn’t have a class was my babysitter. And apparently one of my first phrases to speak was HOOK EM HORNS.

I was introduced to the biblical concept of “alien and stranger” by being a UT fan while growing up just an hour from the University of Arkansas campus. Every fourth year when the UT/UA game was played in Fayetteville (the Arkansas home games alternated between Fayetteville and Little Rock), our family dressed up in orange and attended, finding our place in the sea of red. We were there for the game of the century in 1969–despite the fact that President Nixon took our tickets.

(The full story is that when the President decided to attend, they had to take some tickets from around the stadium for security and ours were chosen. Hmmmm. Did they know we’d be wearing orange? But my dad snagged some last-minute tickets from another source.)

So . . . this was a big night. The first national title for the Longhorns since 1970. And does anyone doubt what I’ve been writing about Vince Young? He was 30-for-40 in passing for over 250 yards. That’s a good night for a QB. But what sets him apart is that he rushed for 200 yards. That was the difference.

Hook em horns!!

- – - -

By the way, my congrats to whatever UT alumnus convinced the good people at OU that Dallas (where the game is played each year at the Cotton Bowl) is a neutral site.

So, here they are:

UNC
Kansas
Texas
Duke

UNC
Texas

UNC

Note: never trust the picks of someone who puts his three favorite teams — Duke, Texas, UNC (in that order) — in the Final Four.)

- – - -

Have you ever noticed how Matthew’s gospel blocks together the words of Jesus? If you’re reading Mark with a red-letter Bible, it’s constantly red-black-red-black-red-black. But in Matthew there are large chunks of the red. Scholars have noted that it probably isn’t accidental that there are five of those teaching sections (chapters 5-7, 10, 13, 18, and 23-25) — likely corresponding to the five books of the Law.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is the fulfiller of and authoritative interpreter of the Law. All things point to him, as you can tell immediately from the genealogy and from the many statements that say “and so was fulfilled.” Often, these “fulfillments” are surprising — until you understand how Matthew understands the Old Testament and Jesus.

E.g., Isaiah 7 had said that a young woman (a Hebrew word that doesn’t necessarily mean a virgin) would conceive and give birth to a son. It was a sign that applied to the people in the looming days of the 8th century. But now, Matthew says, those words find their deepest sense in the one who was born of a virgin. (He uses a Greek word that specifies that THIS young woman is a virgin.)

Similarly, when Joseph and Mary take their newborn to Egypt because of the madman Herod the Great and then return after Herod’s death, this fulfilled the words of Hosea 11:1: “out of Egypt I called my son.” But when you’re reading Hosea, it’s clear that’s a reference initially to the exodus. However, now in a deeper sense they point to Jesus, the one who fulfills all those dreams.

He came as the faithful Israelite. He was the new Moses. (Maybe it’s not an accident that Matthew moves from Egypt to water to desert to teaching — the same as you find in the story of Moses.)

Here now is the one who speaks authoritatively. Here is the one who fulfills God’s dreams for Israel. All of scripture points to him.

- – - -

Rick Reilly recently wrote about the wait — the painstakingly long wait! — for Packers fans to get season tickets. That’s the only way to get in since they don’t sell single-game tickets.

The current waiting list is about 37 years. That’s right. The 47 people who just got their Green Bay Packers season tickets have been waiting since 1970.

Reilly calculates: “If you put your name on the waiting list today, you would be number 74,659. An average of 70 people give up their tickets every year, which means you’ll have your tickets by the 3074 season. Luckily you’ll still catch Brett Favre’s last year.”

What’s perhaps most amazing is that Green Bay is the 257th largest city in the U.S. “The Packers are a franchise that couldn’t be, shouldn’t be, but miraculously is. It’s not just your team, it’s your life.”

- – - -

There’s an interesting debate between Dinesh D’Souza and Christopher Hitchens here.

Red Sox over Indians.
Rockies over D’backs.
Red Sox over Rockies.

Take it to the bank.

- – - -

Just in case you didn’t know, the Cowboys are 5-0. You know you’re on a roll when your QB throws 5 interceptions and you still win.

- – - -

Here was my evening: the Yankees lost . . . the Cowboys won with two seconds left . . . and my granddaughter was in our arms. Now THAT is a good evening.

Now . . . you?

- – - -

If you haven’t been to Larry James’s blog recently, check out this wonderful piece. Also, for a bit of irony, check this out.

After winning yesterday, 7-6, we play today for the championship in Waco. The winner will advance to the Southwest Regional tournament in Grand Junction — playing for a chance to go to the World Series.

It was great coming here last year, but we lost two straight games and had to go home. This year we’ve won a couple games. It won’t be easy. We have one loss and Laredo Del Mar has none, so we have to beat them twice.

Someday maybe this blog will return to more substantive material. Like guacamole recipes. But for now, it’s junior league baseball.

- – - -

Someone mentioned in the comments from the last post that their favorite part of Leaving Church was the “baptism” scene. It’s also my favorite part. After she resigns from ministry, she’s invited to a pool party when people begin throwing one another in.

“I stood back and watched the mayhem that ensued. All around me, people were grabbing people and wrestling them toward the water. The dark night air was full of pool spray and laughter.”

Some looked at her but decided, in light of her past “position,” to leave her alone. “I still looked waterproof to them,” she remembers.

But then . . .

“Two strong hands grabbed my upper arms from behind, and before I knew it I was in the water, fully immersed and swimming in light. I never found out who my savior was, but when I broke the surface, I looked around at all of those shining people with makeup running down their cheeks, with hair plastered to their heads, and I was so happy to be one of them. If being ordained meant being set apart from them, then I did not want to be ordained anymore. I wanted to be human: I wanted to spit food and let snot run down my chin. I wanted to confess being as lost and found as anyone else without caring that my underwear showed through my wet clothes. Bobbing in that healing pool with all those other flawed beings of light, I looked around and saw them as I had never seen them before, while some of them looked at me the same way. The long wait had come to an end. I was in the water at last.”

The NBA playoffs are not as bad as I have always claimed. At least this year. Lebron last night? A game to remember! And the Spurs . . . . All right, the Mavs stunk up the place, but that contributed to an element of unpredictability.

I’ll still take March Madness any day. The worst March Madness game is better than the best NBA playoff game. But, still. I have enjoyed watching a few of the games with my son.

So this note to Richard: It doesn’t stink as badly as I had said. There you go.

- – - -

Last night was little league baseball at its best. We had to beat the 15-0 team to stay in the running for the tournament. We won in the bottom of the 10th inning, 3-2. I wouldn’t want to play that team again. But for one night, we came out on top.

I always love that game. But some nights I really love it!

We’re also not having much luck guessing the date of our granddaughter’s arrival. She was due the 19th, but we’re still waiting for THE CALL . . . .

- – - -

Here’s perhaps the biggest change in my understanding of preaching through the years.

I used to think that I was supposed to make scripture relevant. It’s an old book speaking to a modern world. Now, however, I see that this is too low a view of scripture and too high a view of our “modern” world.

Now I see my job as inviting people to enter into the world of scripture — a world that is hauntingly familiar and yet mysteriously dissimilar.

The key is imagination. I think I’m to help people (including, of course, myself) imagine what a truly human life might look like in light of Easter. What might a gospeled life look like?

I used to flatten scripture, I think. It became a sermon source of rules and regs. It was full of insightful points waiting to be made.

Now as I get to live inside the story world of the Bible, I realize even more why one could say that the word of God is living and active and sharper than any double-edged sword.

- – - -

When I agreed to spend an hour in the dunking booth for our youth group’s Mexico missions fund-raiser, there are three things I didn’t know:

1. How cool Saturday would be with overcast skies;

2. How frigid the water would be; and

3. How many kids would have “unlimited” bracelets, allowing them to throw as many times as they want.

I have a great picture of one of our third graders holding up all ten fingers — to represent the ten times he dunked Preacher Mike.

I need to thank Randy Harris, who offered to pay for the first 50 throws by any of our ACU students who wanted to dunk me. I heard a couple of our students mumbling something about the first exam as they fired away.

Please don’t worry about me. Hypothermia lifted after a water-heater-emptying shower.