What I’ve Learned From First Graders

My heart breaks for the parents of the first-grade children killed in Newtown, Connecticut, a week ago and for the devastating loss to their community of so much innocent and vibrant young life. It’s an unimaginable nightmare for every family. How does anyone begin to cope with such inconsolable grief? 

Just the day before the senseless tragedy I had taught a class of first graders in New Jersey. I thought about them when the terrible news broke. I’ve been lucky enough to have stepped in from time to time over the past three years as a substitute teacher for that grade. It is an assignment I always eagerly anticipated because it never failed to be educational while charmingly unpredictable. Here are some of the things those children taught me:

• First graders will animatedly raise their hands when a question is posed, but after being called upon they will invariably have no answer or have forgotten what they were going to say.

• First graders are supremely confident about their abilities, whether it is sports, academics, or the arts, claiming to be the best, the fastest, the strongest, smartest, and most talented in every area of interest.

• It’s toxic to stand behind first graders after lunch.

• First graders will interrupt the teacher’s lesson or read-aloud story to interject some personal comment unrelated to anything they have just heard.

• First graders never complain about the weather.

• If they know a sticker is the reward for good work, first graders will rededicate their efforts.

• First graders do not let correct spelling or punctuation get in the way of their writing.

• First graders consider themselves to be much more sophisticated and mature than kindergartners, whom they call “babies.”

• To hear them tell it, first graders are experts in anything you can name.

• First graders are unblinkingly honest when evaluating others’ appearances but indifferent about their own.

• On the hottest days in June, first graders will become uncontrollably manic during recess and then ask why it is so hot in the classroom.

• First graders will enthusiastically greet you every single time they see you in the course of the day.

• First graders are incapable of walking quietly in single file down a school hallway. Their preferred mode of locomotion is to skip noisily while nudging one another from point A to point B.

• If there is a puddle, first graders will walk through it rather than around it.

• First graders laugh whenever they hear the word “underwear” and consider “shut up” and “stupid” to be bad words.

• When asked if they have any questions, first graders will launch into unrelated anecdotes.

• First graders cannot wait to be a year older (or half a year older) but have no concept of an adult’s age.

• Upon completing some written assignment, first graders love to ask, “Can we color it now?”

• First graders are prone to hyperbolic one-upmanship.

• I have been invited by first graders to go bike riding and fishing with them, to babysit, watch a movie, and accompany them to their T-ball and soccer games.

• First graders will volunteer secrets about their parents that would mortify the parents if they had any inkling that such intimate information was being disseminated so offhandedly.

• Despite all evidence to the contrary, first graders will never admit to being tired.

• First graders believe anything you tell them.

Reading Comprehension

Subbing for the first-grade teacher, I was able to fulfill my favorite part of working with the children: reading a story aloud to them. This time, it was a cherished book: “The True Story of the Three Little Pigs,” by A. Wolf (as told to children’s author Jon Scieszka and illustrator Lane Smith). It’s a retelling of the fairy tale from the point of view of the incarcerated wolf, who attempts to set the record straight after being unfairly maligned since the story was first told.

“My name is Alexander T. Wolf,” he begins in the first paragraph, “but you can call me ‘Al.’”

A hand went up. A question already?

Yes, Angie?

“My daddy’s name is Al.”

More hands were raised.

Let’s continue, I decided, anticipating a protracted interruption for a recitation of other familiarly known people named Al.

A few additional non sequiturs later, we had finished the story. The assignment for the students was to choose which version (the original or this retelling) they liked better and why, in at least two complete sentences. 

My favorite response, again from Angie, was this: “I liked the new version because the fox was in jail.”

What fox?

“The fox in the book.”

You mean the big bad wolf, who told the story?

“I thought it was a fox.”

Show and Tell

Third-grader Remi was concluding the day with her “Star of the Week” presentation. It’s a prolonged show-and-tell in which the children take turns revealing themselves to their classmates via poster, photographs, drawings, and personal artifacts.

There were photos of Remi as a baby and others at various ages, with family members, and at different vacation spots.

“This is my dog,” Remi said, pulling a stuffed animal out of a tote bag. “And look, she has puppies,” unzipping four smaller stuffed animals from the mother dog’s stomach. Remi also talked about a purple plush carry-all bought for her in Italy by her musician father.

“And here is my favorite,” she said, holding up a locket on a ribbon. “It was my great grandma’s.” She opened the locket. “This is a spot for a small photo of me, but I didn’t put one in yet.”

I was standing next to Athan, one of her classmates, during this part of the presentation. He motioned for me to lean over so that he could say something. When I did, he whispered conspiratorially, “Sometimes when two people are in love, they put photos of each other in the locket.”   

Kid Stuff

One five-year-old little boy, in the course of one unforgettable day in kindergarten, asked or told me the following:

• Where’s [the regular teacher] Mrs. B?

• I like baseball because you get really cool trophies.
• What’s your first name?
• I just don’t like reading.
• Mr. Jerry, when’s recess?
• I’m talented at climbing.
• How old are you?
• “W” is for “whale” or “what’s happenin’”
• My pants are falling down.
• What’s the name of your elf?
• I love to write art. I’m a great artist.
• You can’t have all that paper [to his classmates]. You’re wasting trees.
• I didn’t wear a coat today because when I got up, the sky was white.
• Guess what? My dad bites his nails. I bite my nails, too.

Childish Behavior

Working for nearly 35 years as an editor provided valuable experience in dealing with childish behavior. But how could I have known then that the sometimes Sisyphean effort required to push against professional writers’ whining, excuses, immaturity, recalcitrance, and incoherence would come back into play and serve me well a generation later teaching kindergarten?

I remember one writer, tripped up and caught first by a fact-checker and then by a copy editor, who nevertheless wanted his essay published, uncorrected, as he had written it. Figuratively stamping his foot and holding his breath, he insisted that the piece was fine just as it was and the statement one he wanted to make.

When reason and courtesy could not prevail against such intransigence I coldly laid out three options for the writer and his copy:

1. You rewrite it

2. I rewrite it
3. I kill it

He chose option No. 1.

Kindergartners, similarly self-absorbed, at times fail to see, and thus choose, options that are clearly in their best interests. The counterstrategy against their obduracy is not nearly so cold-blooded. Today, for example, I told one five-year-old boy to get down before he fell from the high teacher's stool he was perched on.

He reassured me of his prowess. "I'm talented at climbing," he blithely said by way of ignoring the directive. When I told him he was going to get me in trouble with the principal, he complied. Was that empathy for a co-conspirator, or a first sign of maturity?

Vocabulary Lesson

I learned a new word this week from a third-grader, although it’s doubtful whether history’s greatest lexicographer, James Murray, whose life work was editing the Oxford English Dictionary, could vouch for its etymology.

After reading a short story, Molly’s Pilgrim, in which a young girl in a new school is made uncomfortably aware of the physical, cultural, and linguistic differences between her and her classmates, I gave the children three reading comprehension questions. The first, “Why did Molly want to leave her new school?” elicited this from Alli: “Because she was discluded.”

“Discluded?” I asked, wanting to make sure I had deciphered her handwriting correctly.

Yes. Alli confirmed it.

“I didn’t know discluded was a word,” I told her.

It is, Alli insisted with an imperiousness that unmistakably said that she was now the teacher and I the student.

I wonder if that’s how Boswell and Johnson got started.

Columbus Day

The music teacher today reminded the kindergarten class that even though today is the birthday of Christopher Columbus, we celebrated his life earlier in the week, on Monday. That was a holiday for many people but a half-day of school for them. Curious about what the children knew of the explorer, she asked them, "What is Columbus Day?"

"It's a short day," said one student, "and we don't have a lot of time to do our work."

She then gave the children some brief details on the life of Columbus, including the background on his trans-Atlantic voyage and fortuitous discovery of America. Upon completion of her narrative, one student raised his hand. "Wait," he asked, "he was a real person?"   

As part of the day's program, the music teacher taught the children a charming song about Columbus, with a sing-along refrain about "the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria." 

She also prepared a lesson that combined a song about the season with a simple dance step. Before beginning, and as a hint for that choreography, she asked the children what we do with the fallen leaves. "Call the lawn service," suggested one boy. "Get the blowers out," said a classmate. So much for the dance routine that would mimic the act of raking.

Spellbound

Who said spelling has to be dull? Back with the fifth grade yesterday, I gave the students their weekly test in the subject: 18 words, all ending in –able (lovable, likable, usable, etc.), plus three complete sentences, each with another –able word. For added fun, there were to be a couple of bonus words.

Before administering the test, I told the class about my own spellbinding misadventure. Back when I was in the fifth grade, I won a class spelling bee. Any small pride I took in the accomplishment immediately vanished when I learned that my reward was to be entry in a broader community contest at a local VFW post. That second spelling bee required wearing a jacket and tie, and on a Sunday afternoon!

Fast forward to the big day. Peevish about being forced to surrender my free time on the weekend and nervous about the competition, I lined up on the stage with the other children. Here came my first word: “desert.”  The spelling bee’s administrator put it in a sentence: “The desert is a large, dry area of land.”

“Desert,” I repeated. “D-E-S-S-E-R-T. Desert.”

Boing! The rude buzzer loudly proclaimed an incorrect response. Banished from the stage, I had to join the audience of proud parents through the interminable elimination rounds. Speeches praising the winner followed, along with photos of all of the contestants.

I never misspelled that word again, I told the class.

“But how can we remember “desert” and “dessert?” asked Kyle.

You always want a double helping of dessert, I told him, echoing the hint I received too late to be of use to me when I most needed it.

O.K., it was time for their test now. I dictated the 18 words and three sentences. Then, to enliven an expanded bonus round, I asked for volunteers. One-by-one, five different students came to the front of the classroom.  While I held an oversized children’s dictionary, each student in turn, with eyes closed, opened the dictionary and blindly pointed to a spot on the page.

The first bonus word is “eclipse,” I announced.

And so on for several additional words—“planet,” “counter,” “undertone,” and “practice”—stopping twice to veto words I thought too easy for fifth graders: “candy” and “oven.”

“Let’s keep going,” said the class. There was time for just one more—a super bonus word. I would choose. Can you guess the word?

The super bonus word is “dessert,” I said.

All but one student spelled it correctly.

My Non-Bucket Sports List

Athletic events, moments, concepts, and individuals I hope never to encounter in this life or the next

1. The NBA Dunk Contest
2. A conversation with a sabermetrician
3. The Pro Bowl
4. The  song “Centerfield” at a baseball game
5. Rex Ryan guarantees
6. The words  “baseball” and “conditioning” in the same sentence
7. Field of Dreams
8. Other over-romanticized glosses on baseball 
9. Motocross
10. Another story on TV ratings of sporting events
11. Mike Francesa
12. The Mad Dog
13. The X Games
14. The Indy 500
15. “Cotton-eyed Joe” at Yankee Stadium
16. John Feinstein
17. Field hockey
18. Beat reporters who ask postgame interview subjects, “How big/important/exciting/disappointed, etc. was...? ”
19. The World Series of Poker
20. Pitch-by-pitch replays
21. Slo-mo revolving, exploding logos after replays
22. Heaven-pointing athletes
23. Fireman Ed
24. Bracketologists
25. The Wave
26. Cameron Crazies
27. A treatise on pitch counts
28. WWE/WWF
29. Anything NASCAR-related
30. Chest-pounding athletes
31. Half-time extravaganzas
32. Super Bowl commercials
33. Media coverage of Super Bowl commercials
34. Solemn postgame interviews with losing coaches
35. A discussion about the BCS

David Halberstam & Pet Peeves

During the course of an interview several years ago with Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter David Halberstam, in conjunction with the publication of his book The Education of a Coach, I asked him if he had any pet peeves. He spoke passionately about one.

“People who are enthusiastic about wars but don’t want their own children to go,” Halberstam said. “If you’re going to go around with a little button in your lapel and you’re too old to go yourself, you ought to be willing to send your own kid. If you’re not willing to send your own kid, take the goddamn button out of your lapel.”

From time to time, in conversations with other sports personalities, I’ve asked each of them the same question. Here are some of their responses:

Phil Simms, former Super Bowl-winning quarterback with the New York Giants and current NFL lead analyst for NBC, said, “I try to exercise, try to take care of myself, but I’m weak and I seem to break down all the time. I eat perfect for two days and then all of a sudden I eat something big and fried and then the big dessert. When I fall off the wagon, I fall hard.” 

Annika Sorenstam, perhaps the greatest female golfer in the history of the sport, said her pet peeve is “people who drive slow in the left lane.”

Randy Bernard, IndyCar CEO, said, “I don't like the word ‘can't.’ ”

Randy Vataha, former wide receiver for the New England Patriots and current president of Game Plan LLC, summed up his pet peeve in one word: “Pettiness.”

Pat Williams, senior vice president of the Orlando Magic, was more verbose on the subject. “Protective secretaries, who have to ask 15 questions about why you’re calling when you’re trying to speak to the boss,” he said. “And my second pet peeve is companies that don’t have a real person who answers the phone. I want a real voice.”

Peter Kenyon, the former chief executive of the English Premier League clubs Manchester United and Chelsea, said that he is bothered by “people who talk too loudly in meetings.”

David Gross, commissioner of Major League Lacrosse, had the last word: “People who are late and who don't return phone calls.”

Pride

The topic was pride, and following a short story and lesson on that subject, the third-graders yesterday at my school were asked to complete the following sentence: “I feel good about myself when…”

Here are some of the more colorful and unpredictable responses:

• “I see a rainbow and when I get or win something.”

• “I help my family and when I’m nise (sic) and kind.”

• “I have soup and eat soup.”

• “I am born and I win medals.”

• “I am riding my bike and my go-kart.”

• “I do something nice for my family and when I play with people that no one wants to play with.”

• “I eat smores and when I have pasta.”

Vocations

Last June, the regular schedule for the second grade called for a technology lesson in the library. But on the penultimate full day of classes, the school library was closed and the librarian otherwise engaged. Forced to improvise in the classroom for that time slot, I gave the children a writing assignment, asking them to describe what they considered (A) the most dangerous jobs and (B) the safest jobs, and what made each so. The results were typically, and wonderfully, unpredictable.

Most Dangerous Jobs

Caroline identified fishing, giving three reasons: “You could get lost at sea, the ship could sink, and you could get sick.”

“Building a skyscraper,” said Mazz, “because you could fall off it.”

Kenny agreed.  “A worker at the Empire State Building” was at the greatest risk “because if you fall, you die.” He added a footnote: “My grandpa worked at the tip of the Empire State Building.” Kenny then thought of another hazardous vocation: “Workers on the Grand Canyon.”

What kind of workers, I asked, and what made that work dangerous?

 “The people who make signs and build paths,” he explained. “It’s so far, you can’t even see a river.”

Andrew described the risks to hockey players: “A blade of the skate could hit the back of another player’s leg, where there’s no protection. And the puck could go through your helmet, and also you could get checked by other teams and you could also get in fights.”

Michael saw similar dangers in lacrosse because, he said, “The defense has a six-foot-long stick and your legs have no protection.” Furthermore, “Some helmet bars are very wide, so the ball goes through them.”

Ella saw risks in domestic chores: “A worker at a laundromat because if you fall in the washing machine, you go in circles and could drown.”

Ali identified a job I was unfamiliar with: “Being a gator boy.”

Huh?

“A gator boy—an alligator boy.” She explained: “You have to catch gators with your bare hands. Look, I made a picture of one,” she said, producing a somewhat fleshed-out stick figure who was holding two green-crayoned alligators, one in each hand.

“Catching sharks is dangerous,” wrote Erin. “You could get eaten.”

“No, I think the most dangerous job is being on [the TV show] Call of the Wild Man because you have to catch snapping turtles and poisonous snakes,” said Jade.

“Being in the army,” said Ryan. “You can get shot and bombed and killed and stabbed by a knife.”

Ben took a fatalistic view at odds with his age: “You could diye (sic) at any job.”

Safest Jobs

Andrew: “Workers at the Apple store. It has a lot of security cameras.”

Michael: “Being on Sesame Street because all the things you have to work with are kids and puppets.”

Kenny: “Working at a senior [citizen] center. All they do is sleep and, if you need to, you just call 911.”  Then he had another thought: “Being a worker at McDonald’s because all you have to do is make burgers.”

“And chicken!” said Jade.

Chris: “Making ice cream.”

Mazz: “Driving a boat because all you do is turn a wheel…”

“No!” cried Ryan. “A cruise ship could sink, like the Titanic.” As a safer alternative Ryan suggested being a baseball umpire. “All you do is call balls and strikes and outs and safes and give the catcher new baseballs.”

Ella: “Folding underwear.” This was popular with her classmates, every one of whom laughed and then repeated the word “underwear.”

Caroline said it all in one word: “Playing.”

Ben had the last say. “No job is safe,” he said, because you could get hurt in any of them.” 

For example? 

“A computer worker could get electrocuted and a chef could cut off a finger.” 

Summer Reading

Still searching for a good book to take to the beach, the country, or just a secluded corner? In a summer of the Olympic Games, tight baseball pennant races, and other high-profile sporting events, even the most dedicated athletes and executives find time in their busy schedules for some quiet reading. Here are books that several sports and business personalities have been reading, or plan to read, in their spare moments this summer.

Billy Beane

President & General Manager

Oakland A’s

I am reading the George Martin series of books that the HBO show “Game of Thrones” is based on. They are not brief, so I’m sure they will fill the summer months.

Natalie Coughlin

11-time Olympic medal winner for USA Swimming 

“Drop Dead Healthy,” by A.J. Jacobs

I love reading about food, cooking, and nutrition. This book looks at all sorts of diets, workout regimens, and health ideologies in an interesting, light-hearted way.

Sunil Gulati

President

U.S. Soccer Federation

“Thinking, Fast and Slow,” by Daniel Kahneman

“Behind the Beautiful Forevers,” by Katherine Boo
“The End of Illness,” by David Agnus
“The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks,” by Rebecca Skloot

Armen Keteyian

Chief Investigative Correspondent 

CBS News

“The Passage of Power,” by Robert Caro. Lessons in how to really report, by the master of the sentence.

“Creole Belle,” the latest from the incomparable James Lee Burke.

“The Inquisitor,” by Mark Allen Smith. Unique character meets spellbinding story.

Anything and everything by recent discovery Thomas Perry, including all of the celebrated Jane Whitefield series.

“Faithful Place,” by Tana French, a recommendation from good buddy Harlan Coben.

Phil Knight

Co-Founder & Chairman

Nike

“The Orphan Master’s Son,” by Adam Johnson

Christopher Ramsey

CEO

USA Water Polo

“Unbroken,” by Laura Hillenbrand.

“The New Cathedrals: Politics and Media in the History of Stadium Construction,” by Robert Trumpbour.

“How Will You Measure Your Life?” by Clayton Christensen, James Allworth, and Karen Dillon.

“Migration: New and Selected Poems,” by W.S. Merwin.

Harvey Schiller

Chairman of the Board & CEO

Global Options Group

“It Worked For Me,” by Colin Powell

“A Universe From Nothing,” by Lawrence Krauss

“The Candy Bombers,” by Andrei Cherny

“The Passage of Power,” by Robert Caro

Still trying to finish “Steve Jobs,” by Walter Issacson.

Mary Wittenberg

President & CEO

New York Road Runners

“Gone Girl,” by Gillian Flynn.  A New York Times review landed this thriller on my list.

“Steve Jobs,” by Walter Isaacson. I know, I am behind in getting to this one, but it’s a must read I have been saving for the summer.

“Thinking, Fast and Slow,” by Daniel Kahneman. My management-type book for the summer.

The Rewards of Teaching Children

Ever since I started a second rewarding career as a substitute teacher, I have often been asked if I prefer one age group (elementary school, middle school, or high school) over another. It’s an easy question for me. I enjoy working with the younger children. It’s simple: They try. That cannot be said of every middle- or high-school student, some of whom are maddeningly indifferent to learning, including a few who benightedly wear their ignorance as some kind of badge of honor.

I love second-graders best. Already in their third year in the school, they are fairly comfortable in their environment and routine and, up to a point, understand and try to fulfill what is expected of them. Not mature by any measure, at the same time they have passed beyond babyishness while retaining the best qualities of childhood--curiosity, overexuberance, innocence, honesty, and happiness.  

And, so, I was never disappointed to get the call to sub for one of the district’s excellent second-grade teachers. I began this day as I always did by greeting the children: “Good morning, boy and girls.”

“Good morning, Mr. K!”

What a glorious way to start any day, facing so many open and smiling faces.

“How is everyone today?”

“Good.” A universal response every single time I ask that question.

“Before we begin, I have to take attendance,” I told them. “If you’re not here, please raise your hand.”

Thankfully, a few students caught the joke immediately. Their hands shot up.  A few other hands were raised tentatively, those children unsure that they had heard the question correctly.

Without fail, someone could be counted on to say, “I’m not here, Mr. K.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said.

Thank You Notes

With apologies to Jimmy Fallon, here are a few things I am grateful for:

Thank you, sports beat reporters, for shamelessly sucking up to postgame interview subjects by providing both the question and answer (“You have to be pleased with today’s win”) for them.

Thank you, network programming executives, for those excerpts you choose to promote as the highlight of your sit-coms and allowing us to recognize in advance just how witless those shows are.

Thank you, convenience store cashier, for petulantly asking if I want a bag for my groceries and grudgingly depleting your bag inventory.

Thank you, Republicans, for cutting spending on education and social welfare so that billionaires can revel in luxury and stylish charm.

Thank you, pitch-by-pitch replays, for slowing down the pace of baseball more than anyone could have thought possible and proving that watching paint dry is infinitely more fascinating.

Thank you, push buttons on traffic lights, for giving unimaginative pedestrians the illusion of power.

Thank you, Fox Sports TV directors, for occasionally diverting your cameras from the crowd and dugout to the field and reminding us that there is a game being played during your broadcast.

Thank you, professional writers, for misusing the words “disinterested,” “fortuitous,” and “presently” and proving that your editors are as benighted as you are.

Thank you, distracted SUV-driving mom on cell phone with toddler in child seat and stick figures of family on back window, for ignoring that stop sign and allowing a jogger to perform his deer-in-the-headlights imitation.

Thank you, baseball players who point to heaven, for having the hubris to think that God took the time to notice you jog into second base.

Thank you, bottled water, for underestimating P.T. Barnum and proving that there are now thousands of suckers born every minute.

Thank you, people who use apostrophes in simple plural words. The education of your children is in your hand’s.

Thank you, officious church ushers, for forcing tiny devout widows to squeeze ever deeper into the pew to accommodate late-arriving sweaty fat men in shorts.

Thank you, mute button, for the opportunity to silence instantly the E-trade talking baby, Geico gecko, Bud Light actors, and humming Honda passengers.

Thank you, drivers who use the breakdown lane to zoom past the waiting cars and cut in at the exit ramp for reminding me that Dante did not designate your own personal circle of hell.

Thank you, fat baseball trainers, for being role models for poorly conditioned players.

Thank you, print ad sales reps, for being eager to sell out any or all parts of editorial for your miserable commission.

Thank you, funeral-mass cards, for the fill-in-the-blank line that allows me to determine just how many years of prayers I want for the deceased.

Thank you, lawn-service workers, for Saturday morning’s three uninterrupted hours of leaf-blowing my neighbors’ blades of grass down the length of the street.

Thank you, NBA athlete, for pounding your own chest to show us you have heart while your counterpart just blew past you to put his team ahead.

Thank you, MLB relievers, for throwing 11 pitches every other day and redefining the word “courageous.” 

Thank you, sabermetricians, for dramatizing just how little you value free time via your arcane formulas that prove what is obvious to fans who merely watch the games.

God, He's a Huge Sports Fan

Ever since King Saul successfully sent up David to pinch-hit for the Israelites against Goliath and the Philistines, players have been pointing skyward after an individual athletic accomplishment.

Nowadays, it’s commonplace to see a player hit a home run, score a touchdown, or slam home a dunk and then gesture to the heavens—or at least to the top of the dome or arena. But before David, who knew that God was such a sports fan? 

I once asked the writer Frank Deford about that.

“Well, [God] is,” Deford said. “And we should all know that. He takes time out from his busy schedule to root for various teams. And those teams that pray the most, I think God favors. Now, it’s always tricky when two teams that pray equally meet each other. This makes it very tough for God. And sometimes he just doesn’t know what to do, and so as a consequence, he turns his back and lets the athletes decide without him getting involved.”

You mean God’s indifferent at that point?

“He’s neutral,” Deford said, “but most of the time, as any sensible person knows, God determines what happens on the field. And I think that’s the way that it should be. It’s foolish for us to think that we should play these games without spirituality mattering more than athleticism.”

You have to feel for God, what with all the demands on his attention in the sports-mad world he created. Someone’s always giving a shout-out to him, and not necessarily at climactic moments.

“I can’t imagine in this day and age that God actually cares when Barry Bonds hits his thirteenth home run of the year,” ESPN sports columnist Rick Reilly once told me. “I don’t know…maybe he does. What I like are the guys that make a tackle and stop someone for a one-yard loss and point to God. And even God goes, ‘Come on. It’s still second-and-11. So what!’ ”

It seems only sporting to allow God to kick back in his skybox, at least on his traditional day of rest, and take a timeout from worldwide strife, the foibles of Wall Street and the GOP, and the ineptitude of the Yankees with runners in scoring position. Still, who could blame him for pulling some strings and exerting his influence on some personal favorites? The Angels, for example, whose ascension owes at least an assist to the grace of Mike Trout. And heaven apparently can wait for the Devils, eliminated in six games by the Kings.

Surely it’s no coincidence that the fortunes of the Rays took a turn for the better once the Tampa Bay franchise dropped “Devil” from its nickname. Then again, God seems to have turned his back on the Saints after the revelation of their ugly bounty program.

Late last September, after the Red Sox were eliminated from contention in the American League, first baseman Adrian Gonzalez said, “God has a plan. And it wasn’t God’s plan for us to be in the playoffs.” Who knew that God had a sense of humor?

But to be fair, Gonzalez might have been thinking of Zeus, who in fickle moments would throw down a thunderbolt on the hapless mortals.

And just last month, in a conversation with Susan Slusser of the San Francisco Chronicle, Manny Ramirez reassured the fans of the Oakland A’s, his newest team. “The thing people don't understand is that God didn't bring me to Oakland to fail,” Manny said.

“No, God sent Manny to Los Angeles for that,” said Slusser’s colleague Scott Ostler.

Perhaps it’s best to attribute everything in sports, as in life, to predestination. You know, the outcome of all the games having been ordained from the beginning of time. Takes everyone off the hook of individual responsibility and allows God to be a fan, just like the rest of us.