Announcer: “Welcome to the new sports game show sweeping the nation in which two contestants compete together to see who can deny responsibility for their actions the most! Let’s meet our host, please welcome. . . Mr. Itz Yorfault. Our two contestants today are Adam Ididntdoit and Eve Itwasntme. And now let’s play. . . The Blame Game!”

OK, so there is no such game; but we see it all the time on sidelines, in locker rooms and on long trips home from games. Teammates banter and complain that everything is everyone else’s fault, not their own. Where did we learn such a thing? The trend goes back a long time.

Last night, at the age of 68, University of Connecticut men’s basketball coach Jim Calhoun became the oldest basketball coach to ever win an NCAA men’s basketball championship. In his team’s 53-41 win over the Butler Bulldogs, Calhoun earned his third title in his 39-year coaching career.

Calhoun’s milestone reminded me this morning about a man in Scripture whose age also made history. His name was Abraham, and, at the age of 100, he and his wife, Sarah, who was only 10 years younger, gave birth to their son, Isaac. While Abraham and Sarah had known for many years that God promised them a child, they couldn’t see how that would happen in their old ages.

My youngest daughter and I recently ventured out on a three-day backpacking trip. Our biggest concern was finding water on our second day. We had a water-purifying pump with us, but if we didn't find any water, the pump would be useless.

Days before the trip, I had prayed that we would find enough water to get us through. When we made it to our camping area, we found a water hole that was 2'x1' with about eight inches of water in it. We had enough water for the evening, but we weren't sure we’d have enough for the next day. That night we were hit with a thunderstorm, and it rained through the night. The next morning, we found that our water hole had become a raging brook. We even had a hard time crossing it!

When the weather finally breaks after a long winter, everyone gets busy fertilizing the lawns, dusting off the golf clubs, cleaning up the patio furniture, and lighting up the grill. There is a genuine excitement in the air! If we stay in the house too long or if winter stays too long, we get cabin fever. Cabin fever is a condition of increased anxiety, tension, and boredom caused by living for some time in a confined space or an isolated area, especially in winter.

“Touch the line!” is a phrase that athletes hear constantly, a call to run a sprint the right way. In my own personal experience this phrase has often been followed by the dreaded “that one didn’t count.” Needless to say, no one likes to run more than they have to.

Why would a coach make an athlete run again just for missing a line? I mean really, sometimes it’s only a matter of inches. The answer has to do with hard work and discipline. A coach never wants to see a player cut corners. He or she wants every player to realize their full potential, even if that means focusing on seemingly minor things. The same is true of our Heavenly Coach.

To hear Ryan Hall nonchalantly describe his winding journey as a long-distance runner isn’t much different from watching him glide with apparent ease through treacherous hills and valleys en route to the finish line. But just because he makes it look effortless doesn’t mean his path to competitive greatness has been without a fair number of trials and tribulations.

“I’ve had a really rocky journey,” Hall says. “The hardest thing is picking yourself up after a shattered dream or an injury or when you know you didn’t give your best.”

Are you busy? I bet you are! Games, practices, work, meetings and other important things consume our days. We get so busy we sometimes forget what is truly essential. Recently I have been reminded that there are two things I have been neglecting or forgetting to do for my family. And while I can build a great plan to succeed in life, if I'm not leading and caring for my family, emptiness will surely follow.

I had to make a tough decision in my senior year of high school. Coming out of basketball season, I had to decide between playing baseball or running track. My junior year, I had played baseball because we didn't have enough boys to fill a track team. My senior year, however, presented a dilemma. If I ran track, there would be just enough to have team. If I didn't, there wouldn't be a track team that year. When I approached my baseball coach about it, he told me that I would never do anything in track and that his baseball team would probably be going to the state finals. My decision was simple after that. I chose track.

“Dad, maybe you will win next time.” These words have been spoken to me a few times from my kids after a tough loss, usually followed by a big hug. At five and seven years of age, they really don’t care if I win or lose. They just want a hug, and most of the time I need it more than they do. In coaching football, wrestling, and track, there is always a game or two each year that doesn’t turn out according to plan. And these words from my kids always seem to help the healing begin and it also puts “the game” in perspective. Wins and losses that matter to us coaches don’t really matter to our children. They are still trying to figure out the real game, “life.” They love us, no matter what, with unconditional love.