Three yards and a cloud of dust.

Henry Mallory was undoubtedly the toughest dude I ever met. He wasn't much taller or bigger than the rest of us, but boy was he tough. A kid, a man.....muscles where we still had baby fat, and hair where we had none. As the ol' ball coach would always say with a twinkle in his eyes, “Henry 'll knock you're jock off boys, better be careful.” Henry wasn't just tough he was fast also – fast like a locomotive running wide open. By the time he hit full stride wasn't anyone going to catch him, yet even while he was still picking up speed I saw very few who could stop him. His thighs looked like Herschel Walker's before there was a Herschel Walker. He'd soon run over a tackler than look at him. Henry didn't understand the concept of making a tackler miss, NO he looked for an opportunity to engage the enemy at every opportunity. He was a punisher! Lots of boys thought they were tough til they got in the “bull ring” with ol' Henry. You football players know what I'm talking about, don't you.

My best memory of Henry was in a game we played at historic Billy Meyer's baseball stadium during the years before Knoxville regained a professional team. The baseball diamond was still in tact, dirt infield and all. The hundred yards making up the football stripes went right through the third base side of the infield and out to the right field fence of the old park. If you've ever seen the movies, The Natural or A League of Their Own – it was one of those types of stadiums. It was a thing of beauty! I got chill bumps when we were given the news we'd be playing all of our home games that year at Billy Meyer. Take a look at the photograph below. In an era when ballparks didn't have water falls, and eighty-foot tall beer cans in the outfield section, it was every ball players dream to play there. For us boys growing up in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains it was simply our very own Wriggly Field.

But, we weren't playing baseball there, we were playing football, and football (unless you were Henry) meant you hit the ground quite often. At Billy Meyer when you hit the ground it most likely meant you hit dirt, not plush cushioning grass – dirt and that damn ol' piece of gravel hidden beneath the dirt. Bruises, scraps, cuts – every knee and elbow on the team wore the trademark of Billy Meyers. Back at school we were simply known as the boys who played at the old baseball park, there was just no denying it.


Okay enough already! Enough nostalgic non-sense. I'm starting to sound like a seventy-five year old man talking to a bunch of young whimper-snappers. Let's get back to my favorite story about tough ol' Henry Mallory, whatta you say. So as the memory goes, we were in a ballgame that was as tight as tight could get. Neither team could score and the clock was winding down. We had an undefeated, un-tied season on the line and things weren't looking favorably for the boys playing for Coach Bob Stephens and the Faternal Order of Police.. Then we finally got the ball back, and as it seemed to always be the case we were snapping from the dirt side of the field. Their defense was as tough as ours and for the first time in my life I saw boys that could actually put ol' Henry on the ground. This alone is reason enough to remember the game, but then the “big play” happened! Everyone started clambering about passing the ball down field, we need a big play and running the ball hadn't got us anywhere. Coach Stephens called timeout and said (with his cigar hanging from one side) “Boy's were going to keep giving the ball to Henry til he wears 'em down.” Not very many of us were happy about this strategy. Sure we knew what Henry was capable of, but come on we've spent the entire game eating dirt and filling our nostrils with Billy Meyer dust, we wanted to get the ball to the grass for at least a few plays, but coach would hear none of this. Back onto the field with three yards and a cloud of dust once more. Then it finally happened! The quarterback handed Henry the ball for about the seventh play in a row from atop the dirt, and this time ol' Henry took off.


The crowd was on it's feet as soon as he got past the linebackers as he looked like a thoroughbred released from the gates at Churchill Downs. Nobody was going to catch him! Then the unthinkable happened. Henry's pants fell down round his ankles. I promise you I'm not making this up! Henry was so big compared to us normal size kids he couldn't fit in the uniform sizes we were given. Coming from a poor family as most of us did, he couldn't afford to buy pants that fit him, so he did the best he could. He tied a rope around his waist to hold up the pants he couldn't buckle, and guess what the rope broke. All the wear and tear from hitting the dirt and rocks of the baseball field finally took its toll on the cotton rope and sure 'nuff it broke in two at the worst possible moment.

Henry barely broke stride though. He tucked the ball in his left hand, reached down and grabbed his britches by the right and pull them up as far as he could. By then a few of the would-be tacklers that hadn't given up on the play caught up with him.  Henry was determined he wasn't going to be stopped - not this time. With one hand on the ball and the other one busy with his laundry Henry ran right through two tacklers and landed face down in the end-zone for the winning score. The rest of us couldn't stop laughing long enough to cheer. What a sight he was running down field that day! A game that was marred by play after play consisting of three yards and a cloud of dust saw one of the most unusual spectacles in the history of the old ball park and the crowd on hand loved it. Did I mention Henry Mallory was tough? He was tough indeed!


I recently heard David Nasser ask a question to a crowd of about three thousand, and it's stuck with me. He asked; “Are the songs we sing in worship compromised or complemented by the way we live our lives outside the walls of the church?” This morning I thought about his question as I listened to mine and Dale's favorite Christian music while writing about a childhood memory. A line from one of the songs I was singing along to speaks of giving praise and honor to God – the One that was, is, and is to come, Holy, Holy..... The praise part – yeah, I've got that! I rarely ever go a day without spending a good portion of it praising Him for all He is – not just for what He's done for me.  The Honor thing, boy I just don't know. Does my life truly reflect honor upon Him? Now that's getting below the top layer of skin there. Sure, its easy to sing the words, to lift the hands, to cry the tears, to fall upon my knees in praise, but to live a life that brings Him honor? I gotta do a little more work on that one.

So often we get caught up in the world's vision as to what's “important”and we conger up all these visions of grand and glorious ways we can serve God. We want to have this really big ministry – this really big impact. We want to exit this world leaving our mark on mankind, so we think we have to do something the world sees as noteworthy. The truth is – the real truth is, God's already done the “Big Thing” we just need to focus on the small things, the three yards and a cloud of dust kind of plays. He gave the world His son as a sacrifice, as a means for atonement so what is it we can give Him equal in return. Nothing! Give Him praise, sure, bless His name, no problem, tell others of His goodness and mercy, no biggy but.......

Step down into the ditch and give a man a hand up requires getting your pants leg and shoes a little dirty. Are we willing to run that three yard play? Giving up our “Me” time once a week in order to teach a room full of folks (that don't smell so good all the time )to read and write. Will we put our heart into that three yarder just as we would the one that'll make the highlight film on ESPN? Some of us will, but there's a lot that won't. Many want the limelight, but few relish a role behind the scenes. For some of us the answer lies in the question, “Are the songs we sing in worship compromised or complemented by the way we live our lives outside the walls of the church?” We sing one thing, live another. We get goose bumps when we're on stage in front of God, but we'll walk to the other side of the alley to avoid getting our hands dirty by the beggar's plead when no one's watching.

Truth is; I'd love for God to see me as the Henry Mallory on His team. Running full-bore, ball in one hand, holding my britches up with the other, knocking the enemy on it's behind, and leaping for the end-zone, but you know what? If all He sees in me is that I'm willing to spend the remainder of my days lining up to run those plays that result in nothing more than three yards and a cloud of dust for His kingdom, then I'm okay with that. For I'll know in my heart my life does indeed bring Him honor.


I want to close this journal entry with a favorite quote from one of my favorite authors and teachers, A.W. Tozar. From his book The Radical Cross Tozar writes, “The cross will cut into our lives where it hurts worst, sparing neither us nor our carefully cultivated reputations. It will defeat us and bring our selfish lives to an end. Only then can we rise in fullness of life to establish a pattern of living wholly new and free, and full of good works.”

Three yards and a cloud of dust – for His glory, for His honor! doug