I read a newspaper article last year about a professional baseball player who couldn’t seem to make the necessary adjustments needed in his approach to hitting. The player contended that his hitting was fine, but many of his current and former coaches disagreed. They pointed to the fact that his batting average had continued to decline and that he was striking out at an alarming rate.

In one game, the player might have 3 hits, but in the next 4 games he wouldn’t get a hit, striking out 9 times. It’s not that the player didn’t have good coaching—one of his previous coaches was a former batting champion. The problem was that he wasn’t doing what the coaches were asking. James 1:22-24 says:

A recent study reports that only 6 percent of teens today believe that moral truth is absolute. I knew it wouldn’t be high, but that’s really low. Not good. Young people today are basically saying that life is a sliding scale. Truth has become relative because it all depends on the situation.

In the world of athletics, there are many truths that cannot be relative, such as wins and losses. Imagine if every athlete defined winning differently—one by score, one by hustle, one by the best fans, and so on. It would be chaos! Fortunately—or unfortunately—winning is defined by the scoreboard. Life without truths, absolutes and boundaries leads to chaos.

How do you go on after experiencing the unexpected death of a friend and loved one? The Illinois Wesleyan University football team was faced with this difficult task after the death of 21-year-old offensive lineman and co-captain, Doug Schmied. Schmied passed away on August 24, 2005, after suffering complications from heatstroke.

As a member of the sports media, I hear quite a few stories about athletes who build their entire lives around their sport. They eat, sleep, breathe and live specifically to achieve their personal athletic goals. It consumes so much of their mind that they don’t focus on anything else.

But then something unexpected happens. It could be a variety of things: injury, illness, or whatever. Suddenly, they are stripped of the sport that had occupied so much of their time and energy. And when it’s gone, they’re left with nothing. Complete emptiness.

It is at this point that many athletes realize they need something more—something that can’t be found in trophies or medals, something that is eternal. And this is exactly where God wants them.

As I stood in the phone booth, tears came to my eyes. I had just called my parents to let them know that I would be flying home that night to Los Angeles. The Cleveland Cavaliers had become the third straight NBA team that I had failed to make.

How could this happen? I had such high hopes of realizing my dream to play in the NBA when I was drafted out of the University of Iowa, but it was becoming clear to me that dreams don’t always come true.

As the tears ran down my face, I thought that my days as a basketball player were over. I had lost my identity. Basketball was my life. What would the future hold now? I should have known that my future was in the hands of Someone bigger than myself. Yes, God was still in control, even if I was not aware of it.

As competitors, it is often hard to guard our mouths. Carson Palmer, a Heisman Trophy winner and the No. 1 NFL draft pick in 2003, signed a $49 million, 6-year contract with the Cincinnati Bengals. A total of $10 million of the deal was for his signing bonus.

However, that $10millionwasn’t contingent upon his great throwing arm, his intelligence as a quarterback or his great play-calling. It was contingent upon his tongue and whether or not he would say anything negative about his team, coaches or management. Basically, the $10 million signing bonus was a loyalty pledge in which Carson guaranteed that he would not be critical. If he ripped into his team, he lost the cash. This was quite an incentive for him to keep his speech positive and encouraging.

Every team needs leaders on and off the field who set examples at practice, in the classroom and with their friends. Leaders show the way to work in all areas of their lives. However, many players do not want that responsibility.

When I share with athletes and encourage them to be leaders, I usually get the same response: “Who, me?” They feel that nobody is watching them and that no one cares what they do on or off the field. I beg to differ. Athletes are under the microscope. People are watching. Peers are watching. And fellow athletes are watching.

In 1996, I went to my first professional golf tournament. Lush green grass, beautiful colors and the world’s best golfers took center stage at Southern Hills Country Club in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I watched several groups tee off and was amazed at how far they hit the ball.

As I walked the course, I came to a hole where there was quite a buzz. People were crowding in to see a young golfer hit the ball—a young man named Tiger Woods. I, too, greatly admired this young, talented golfer. Tiger took it all in stride. He showed amazing composure for such a young player.