Gospel at the Ball Game

I took Maya to Miller Park to watch the Brewers play the Pittsburgh Pirates on our special Daddy-Daughter Day. We sat four rows from the rightfield fence, staring at the black and gold '36' on the back of Craig Wilson's jersey every time the Pirates took the field. As expected, two younger "men" enjoying their Miller Time harrassed Wilson mercilessly, frequently calling his sexuality into question.

"Wilson, you suck!"

"Wilson, get off your knees!"

"Wilson, are you growing your hair out for gay porn?"

"Wilson, you're a woman!"

"Hey Wilson, you still suck!"

And my favorite, "Wilson, Castaway was a bad movie!"

I wondered to myself what the appropriate parental response is in such a situation. I decided that as long as Maya didn't mention it, I'd not address the topic with her in hopes that she didn't notice. But she noticed.

Boy did she ever notice. The next thing I know, Maya stood up on the bleacher and yelled as loud as she could, "Wilson, come out!"

I was shocked. No, I was mortified. How could my sweet little girl yell such a bigotted comment? Even more puzzling, how could my three year old baby know what 'coming out' meant?

So rather than yelling at her on the spot -- my knee jerk reaction -- I decided to make sure she actually said what I thought I heard.

"I said, 'Wilson, come out, daddy'."

Yep, that's what I thought she said. My next question: "What do you mean, Maya?"

"That's what Jesus says to Lazarus."

And with that, she yelled back to the rightfielder at the top of her lungs, "Wilson, come out of your tomb! You are alive. Jesus raises you from the dead."

Even if you play for the wrong team.