The Saints Prison Ministry sent a Pennsylvania team of ballplayers behind these stone walls. When the Saints came marching in, it was a day that transcended prison.Saints Prison Ministry
When a man is sent to prison, the first thing to be checked at the prison door – besides freedom, of course – is pride. Prison is a powerful equalizer, and a constant discouragement for anyone with an ego needing to be fed. The examples are legion, but I encountered one just weeks ago. I was in the prison ball field walking the perimeter one morning when the Assistant Director of the Recreation Department stopped me. “We’re hosting a ball team from the Saints Prison Ministry on July 9th,” he said, “and we’re putting together the best players from each of our teams to take them on.”
He had my utmost attention! I could not suppress the grin that was forming on my face as I eagerly awaited his next sentence. Seeming to notice, he hastily added, “So even though you’re not one of them, we’d like to invite you anyway in case you want to write about it.” It could have been worse, I suppose. He could have said, “We’d like to have you there in your official capacity” which, to be honest, is more or less to fetch water for the team these days. This is what my life in confinement is reduced to.
You don’t have to like baseball to read this post. In fact, it might even be an obstacle if you do. Something magical and wonderful took place out on that field on July 9th, and I’m not certain I have the writing skills to convey it with justice, but I’ll try.