- Dec 20, 2019
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Estimated reading time: 11 minutes
It was the perfect day for the perfect game.
That afternoon, Oct. 8, 1956, found New York City under clear skies with a temperature of 69 degrees. My mother and I sat in the stands at Yankee Stadium, down the first base line, under the overhang. The place was packed with 64,519 fans. After all, it wasn’t just any game. It was game five of the World Series. Even at age 7, I knew that was a very big deal.
Mom and I had been here the day before, too. We’d been treated like celebrities since coming to New York for this event. We had an escort with us from Oklahoma, where we lived. He was there to take care of us and make sure we got safely around town from the hotel to the ballpark and back.
It was all courtesy of the Brooklyn Dodgers, the Yankees’ opponent.
Why? Because my dad — Dale Mitchell — had recently joined the Dodgers.
In the stands, I thought, This is amazing that I get to see this incredible game.
Mom pulled me closer as I looked at the sea of people. They were cheering, eating hot dogs, enjoying the game, and each other’s company. Mom and I were hoping for a Dodgers win, of course, but it felt nice, comfortable, and fun.
Then things changed.
It wasn’t obvious at first. Nobody thought much of it when Yankees pitcher Don Larsen struck out the first few Dodgers. But when he began to mow them down inning by inning, I felt the excitement build. With every pitch, the Yankees fans went wild. Whenever anybody stood up in front of me, I had to stand up even higher or climb on my chair seat.
By the time there were two outs in the ninth inning, the place was about to explode. The crowd was in a frenzy.
It was also growing. Hundreds of thousands of fans nationwide had tuned in as word spread about the perfect game being pitched in New York. If Larsen kept it up, it would be the only such game in World Series history.
A perfect game is one of the rarest feats in all of sports. By definition, it’s way more unlikely than a no-hitter. There have been nearly 300 no-hitters in the half million or so big league games in history, but only 23 perfect games. (In a no-hitter, while obviously, no opposing player gets a hit, runners can reach base by walking, being hit by a pitch, or because of an error. In a perfect game, no opposing player reaches base at all.)
An astounding 26 Dodgers had been up to bat, only to be retired by Don Larsen. This being 60 years ago, there had been only three perfect games pitched since 1900 and none in the previous 34 years. Then, over the public address system, came the words we’d waited for: “Now batting for Brooklyn, number 8, Dale Mitchell.”
My dad had been a great major-league player for 10 years, achieving a .312 lifetime batting average with the Cleveland Indians and making two all-star teams. He’d hit .336 in 1948 when the Indians won the World Series. Because he’d been such a great hitter, Larsen had to know that getting this last out and securing his place in history wouldn’t be easy.
Dad settled into the batter’s box. The score was 2-0. By now, millions of people were listening and watching. If he failed, it would be remembered forever.
I felt more tension in that stadium than I’d ever felt in my long seven years of life! My mother put her arms around me and pulled me closer, but what she murmured in my ear was not comforting.
“Son,” she said, “keep your mouth shut. Because if your dad gets a hit right now, these Yankees fans might kill us.”
I believed her! Suddenly, I was no longer just watching a baseball game with my mother. I actually thought I could be killed if my dad got a hit.
Larsen’s first pitch hit the mitt of Yankees catcher Yogi Berra. “Ball one!” yelled the umpire.
Then came the second pitch, followed by the umpire’s call: “Strike one!”
The pressure on Dad was so strong I could almost see it.
My dad fouled off a pitch. Strike two!
The pressure grew even more crushing, and it seemed all 64,519 people in the stadium held their collective breath.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go . . .
“Strike three!”
My heart sank.
Later, people would argue over that call. But as Yogi Berra eventually put it, “The ump called it a strike, so it was a strike.”
Dad turned to debate the umpire, but pandemonium had broken out. Berra ran to the mound, jumping and wrapping both arms and legs around Larsen. The umpire took his mask off and jogged to the dugout. There was no one left for Dad to talk to.
By then, the crowd was up, and I couldn’t see anything. Holding Mom’s hand, I followed her out of the stadium.
I didn’t say much, but my mind and heart were working on what I’d just seen and heard. Even at age 7, I could see that competition was a big part of life. Winning, succeeding, was very good. Losing was not.
On that day, Larsen had won—and my dad had become the answer to a trivia question.
Even a little kid could see that winning made all the difference. It was a lesson I’d have to remember.
Winning was indeed Bo’s goal as a young adult, both personally and professionally. He earned his undergraduate degree in marketing, married his wife, Gari, and played minor league baseball for the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball Organization before building a successful real estate business in the Denver area.
Bo and Gari Mitchell were enjoying family life with two children and helped start a new church in their community. Little did they know that while their son and daughter were growing up and Bo was working as a businessman and chaplain for the Denver Nuggets, Bo would be sentenced to prison because of an unusual series of events. Thirty-five years after Bo’s dad struck out—and many people thought the umpire’s decision had been wrong—Bo was also on the receiving end of a bad call that would put him behind bars.
With God’s grace and the love of his family, Bo would ultimately rebuild his life after his prison experience left his reputation, career, and finances in shambles. Together, Bo and Gari would build a marriage that was stronger than ever—a relationship that was a definite win for the family.
Bo and Gari Mitchell had lived through some difficult times, and they knew God was in control—but they didn’t know how He would help them through this situation. Bo and Gari’s first glimpse of their troubled future came in the local newspaper.
They saw Bo’s name in The Denver Post. It seemed the federal government was looking into two loan transactions Bo had been involved in seven years earlier. He’d borrowed money on behalf of some friends in real estate, wanting to aid them because they’d recently helped him with a church-planting project. He had no reason to believe there was anything wrong with the loans.
However, his decision to help his friends would soon unravel his life—and transform his marriage in unexpected ways.
Bo had worked his way to success in the real estate business and as a ministry starter in Denver. But as the 1990s dawned, Bo’s pace and lack of a work-life balance was taking its toll. Bo was consumed by his work, which frequently limited his time with his family. One night, Gari tried to explain how his behavior was affecting her.
“I was telling Bo, ‘OK, here’s this beautiful barrel of apples,’ ” she says. ” ‘I used to be the one on the top, and I was your treasure. And now I’m kind of moving down, and I’ve got some bruises and feel like about sixth or seventh on your list. And I think you’re feeling down on my list, too.’ ”
As things became more difficult in Bo and Gari’s marriage, Bo’s legal problems were already brewing.
Bo was accused of breaking a little-known law against “straw borrowing.” Because the loans had been repaid, no one actually suffered financial loss. The deputy U.S. attorney indicated that Bo could expect probation if he would sign a plea bargain agreement. Bo and Gari couldn’t see a different resolution in the near future, so Bo finally signed, even though he felt he was innocent. Unfortunately, the judge wanted to make an example of Bo and sentenced him to 11 months in federal prison.
On Jan. 6, 1992, Bo walked through the gates of the Englewood Federal Detention Center, not far from the Mitchells’ home in Denver.
Bo and Gari Mitchell decided to let God teach them whatever He wanted them to learn through the prison experience. It wasn’t easy. Bo says, “I had to be on my toes constantly—both with the other inmates and with the guards. Just around the next corner, there could be trouble.” Depressed and fearful, feeling he had let everyone down, he cried almost every day.
At home, Gari prayed constantly for Bo’s safety. Her emotional and financial stress was off the charts.
Many people came to visit Bo—especially Gari and the kids, who saw him during nearly every visitation.
Bo says, “Despite my being away from home, it sometimes felt as if there were fewer communication barriers now than there had been before. When Gari visited, we had hours face to face to discuss any and all topics. When we wrote letters, we could say things—positive and negative—that seemed harder to say in person.”
One of Gari’s letters reminded Bo of what they needed to work on:
I hope we can stop criticizing each other and ourselves and recognize that we are all human and make mistakes. … Instead, let’s build each other in love and concentrate and comment on and believe in our God-given strengths. The parts of us that God has allowed us to have that are the very best.
“We needed each other so much and could only find true solace in our love,” Gari says. “We tackled the tough issues in our marriage during that time, the ones we’d let stack up. The pressure cooker of prison gave us the courage to truly look at our lives and improve.”
Bo and Gari both grew up in homes where alcohol was a problem, but their difficult childhoods affected them in different ways. Gari looked for safety and control through perfectionism and people-pleasing, while Bo became the guy who tried to fix everything and solve everyone’s problems—often at his expense or the expense of his marriage.
As they both worked through their own issues, Bo and Gari discovered that their marriage was changing. Their relationship was deepening, becoming the kind of marriage they’d always wanted.
Gari says, “God was helping me feel the unconditional love Bo truly had for me. I was becoming far more balanced and secure in every aspect of my life.”
On Sept. 14, 1992, Bo finally came home. There were more fears and tears as the Mitchells’ finances and some friendships were in shambles. It took until the following year for Bo to find enough work to fully support his family — in fundraising, real estate, and charity work. He also served as chaplain for the Denver Nuggets, taking every opportunity to tell others what he’d learned during his time behind bars.
In 1994, the Mitchells were interviewed about their experience on the Focus on the Family Daily Broadcast. They were glad it got a good response from listeners, but by then, Bo was tired of retelling and reliving his story of God’s grace behind bars. Most of all, he was tired of crying. He’d wept practically every day for nearly three years, broken-hearted from the pain of incarceration and the underlying feeling of sadness that he’d let everyone down.
On Aug. 1, 1994, the tears finally stopped. It happened when Bo vowed to say “never better” whenever people asked how he was doing. His overall perspective changed immediately, perhaps because it reflected God’s view of him and his future. There was a new joy in the Mitchells’ lives and their marriage.
Bo and Gari Mitchell still tell their story, emphasizing how God used prison to refine them and their marriage. They encourage couples to let God do the same with their own trials and to see their own ordeals as a “God deal.”
“When Bo went to prison, it was actually a dramatic shift in our relationship,” Gari says now. “I became number one because he needed me so much. And that has continued since prison.”
How is Bo and Gari Mitchell’s relationship today, after 50 years together? It’s not perfect. But it’s never been better.
If your marriage is in trouble, there is hope. The Focus on the Family Marriage Institute is here to help — call one of our counselors at 866-875-2915 or visit HopeRestored.FocusOnTheFamily.com.
The post Bo and Gari Mitchell: Finding God’s Grace Behind Bars appeared first on Focus on the Family.
Continue reading...
It was the perfect day for the perfect game.
That afternoon, Oct. 8, 1956, found New York City under clear skies with a temperature of 69 degrees. My mother and I sat in the stands at Yankee Stadium, down the first base line, under the overhang. The place was packed with 64,519 fans. After all, it wasn’t just any game. It was game five of the World Series. Even at age 7, I knew that was a very big deal.
Mom and I had been here the day before, too. We’d been treated like celebrities since coming to New York for this event. We had an escort with us from Oklahoma, where we lived. He was there to take care of us and make sure we got safely around town from the hotel to the ballpark and back.
It was all courtesy of the Brooklyn Dodgers, the Yankees’ opponent.
Why? Because my dad — Dale Mitchell — had recently joined the Dodgers.
In the stands, I thought, This is amazing that I get to see this incredible game.
Mom pulled me closer as I looked at the sea of people. They were cheering, eating hot dogs, enjoying the game, and each other’s company. Mom and I were hoping for a Dodgers win, of course, but it felt nice, comfortable, and fun.
Then things changed.
A shift in momentum
It wasn’t obvious at first. Nobody thought much of it when Yankees pitcher Don Larsen struck out the first few Dodgers. But when he began to mow them down inning by inning, I felt the excitement build. With every pitch, the Yankees fans went wild. Whenever anybody stood up in front of me, I had to stand up even higher or climb on my chair seat.
By the time there were two outs in the ninth inning, the place was about to explode. The crowd was in a frenzy.
It was also growing. Hundreds of thousands of fans nationwide had tuned in as word spread about the perfect game being pitched in New York. If Larsen kept it up, it would be the only such game in World Series history.
Pitching a perfect game
A perfect game is one of the rarest feats in all of sports. By definition, it’s way more unlikely than a no-hitter. There have been nearly 300 no-hitters in the half million or so big league games in history, but only 23 perfect games. (In a no-hitter, while obviously, no opposing player gets a hit, runners can reach base by walking, being hit by a pitch, or because of an error. In a perfect game, no opposing player reaches base at all.)
An astounding 26 Dodgers had been up to bat, only to be retired by Don Larsen. This being 60 years ago, there had been only three perfect games pitched since 1900 and none in the previous 34 years. Then, over the public address system, came the words we’d waited for: “Now batting for Brooklyn, number 8, Dale Mitchell.”
My dad had been a great major-league player for 10 years, achieving a .312 lifetime batting average with the Cleveland Indians and making two all-star teams. He’d hit .336 in 1948 when the Indians won the World Series. Because he’d been such a great hitter, Larsen had to know that getting this last out and securing his place in history wouldn’t be easy.
Dad settled into the batter’s box. The score was 2-0. By now, millions of people were listening and watching. If he failed, it would be remembered forever.
The last pitch
I felt more tension in that stadium than I’d ever felt in my long seven years of life! My mother put her arms around me and pulled me closer, but what she murmured in my ear was not comforting.
“Son,” she said, “keep your mouth shut. Because if your dad gets a hit right now, these Yankees fans might kill us.”
I believed her! Suddenly, I was no longer just watching a baseball game with my mother. I actually thought I could be killed if my dad got a hit.
Larsen’s first pitch hit the mitt of Yankees catcher Yogi Berra. “Ball one!” yelled the umpire.
Then came the second pitch, followed by the umpire’s call: “Strike one!”
The pressure on Dad was so strong I could almost see it.
My dad fouled off a pitch. Strike two!
The pressure grew even more crushing, and it seemed all 64,519 people in the stadium held their collective breath.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go . . .
“Strike three!”
My heart sank.
A questionable call
Later, people would argue over that call. But as Yogi Berra eventually put it, “The ump called it a strike, so it was a strike.”
Dad turned to debate the umpire, but pandemonium had broken out. Berra ran to the mound, jumping and wrapping both arms and legs around Larsen. The umpire took his mask off and jogged to the dugout. There was no one left for Dad to talk to.
By then, the crowd was up, and I couldn’t see anything. Holding Mom’s hand, I followed her out of the stadium.
I didn’t say much, but my mind and heart were working on what I’d just seen and heard. Even at age 7, I could see that competition was a big part of life. Winning, succeeding, was very good. Losing was not.
On that day, Larsen had won—and my dad had become the answer to a trivia question.
Even a little kid could see that winning made all the difference. It was a lesson I’d have to remember.
Grace behind bars: The story of Bo and Gari Mitchell
Winning was indeed Bo’s goal as a young adult, both personally and professionally. He earned his undergraduate degree in marketing, married his wife, Gari, and played minor league baseball for the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball Organization before building a successful real estate business in the Denver area.
Bo and Gari Mitchell were enjoying family life with two children and helped start a new church in their community. Little did they know that while their son and daughter were growing up and Bo was working as a businessman and chaplain for the Denver Nuggets, Bo would be sentenced to prison because of an unusual series of events. Thirty-five years after Bo’s dad struck out—and many people thought the umpire’s decision had been wrong—Bo was also on the receiving end of a bad call that would put him behind bars.
With God’s grace and the love of his family, Bo would ultimately rebuild his life after his prison experience left his reputation, career, and finances in shambles. Together, Bo and Gari would build a marriage that was stronger than ever—a relationship that was a definite win for the family.
Behind bars of their own making
Bo and Gari Mitchell had lived through some difficult times, and they knew God was in control—but they didn’t know how He would help them through this situation. Bo and Gari’s first glimpse of their troubled future came in the local newspaper.
They saw Bo’s name in The Denver Post. It seemed the federal government was looking into two loan transactions Bo had been involved in seven years earlier. He’d borrowed money on behalf of some friends in real estate, wanting to aid them because they’d recently helped him with a church-planting project. He had no reason to believe there was anything wrong with the loans.
However, his decision to help his friends would soon unravel his life—and transform his marriage in unexpected ways.
Bo had worked his way to success in the real estate business and as a ministry starter in Denver. But as the 1990s dawned, Bo’s pace and lack of a work-life balance was taking its toll. Bo was consumed by his work, which frequently limited his time with his family. One night, Gari tried to explain how his behavior was affecting her.
“I was telling Bo, ‘OK, here’s this beautiful barrel of apples,’ ” she says. ” ‘I used to be the one on the top, and I was your treasure. And now I’m kind of moving down, and I’ve got some bruises and feel like about sixth or seventh on your list. And I think you’re feeling down on my list, too.’ ”
Unexpected bad calls put Bo behind bars
As things became more difficult in Bo and Gari’s marriage, Bo’s legal problems were already brewing.
Bo was accused of breaking a little-known law against “straw borrowing.” Because the loans had been repaid, no one actually suffered financial loss. The deputy U.S. attorney indicated that Bo could expect probation if he would sign a plea bargain agreement. Bo and Gari couldn’t see a different resolution in the near future, so Bo finally signed, even though he felt he was innocent. Unfortunately, the judge wanted to make an example of Bo and sentenced him to 11 months in federal prison.
On Jan. 6, 1992, Bo walked through the gates of the Englewood Federal Detention Center, not far from the Mitchells’ home in Denver.
Rebuilding a marriage while behind bars
Bo and Gari Mitchell decided to let God teach them whatever He wanted them to learn through the prison experience. It wasn’t easy. Bo says, “I had to be on my toes constantly—both with the other inmates and with the guards. Just around the next corner, there could be trouble.” Depressed and fearful, feeling he had let everyone down, he cried almost every day.
At home, Gari prayed constantly for Bo’s safety. Her emotional and financial stress was off the charts.
Many people came to visit Bo—especially Gari and the kids, who saw him during nearly every visitation.
Big wins despite bad calls
Bo says, “Despite my being away from home, it sometimes felt as if there were fewer communication barriers now than there had been before. When Gari visited, we had hours face to face to discuss any and all topics. When we wrote letters, we could say things—positive and negative—that seemed harder to say in person.”
One of Gari’s letters reminded Bo of what they needed to work on:
I hope we can stop criticizing each other and ourselves and recognize that we are all human and make mistakes. … Instead, let’s build each other in love and concentrate and comment on and believe in our God-given strengths. The parts of us that God has allowed us to have that are the very best.
“We needed each other so much and could only find true solace in our love,” Gari says. “We tackled the tough issues in our marriage during that time, the ones we’d let stack up. The pressure cooker of prison gave us the courage to truly look at our lives and improve.”
Bo and Gari both grew up in homes where alcohol was a problem, but their difficult childhoods affected them in different ways. Gari looked for safety and control through perfectionism and people-pleasing, while Bo became the guy who tried to fix everything and solve everyone’s problems—often at his expense or the expense of his marriage.
As they both worked through their own issues, Bo and Gari discovered that their marriage was changing. Their relationship was deepening, becoming the kind of marriage they’d always wanted.
Gari says, “God was helping me feel the unconditional love Bo truly had for me. I was becoming far more balanced and secure in every aspect of my life.”
Living lessons learned behind bars
On Sept. 14, 1992, Bo finally came home. There were more fears and tears as the Mitchells’ finances and some friendships were in shambles. It took until the following year for Bo to find enough work to fully support his family — in fundraising, real estate, and charity work. He also served as chaplain for the Denver Nuggets, taking every opportunity to tell others what he’d learned during his time behind bars.
In 1994, the Mitchells were interviewed about their experience on the Focus on the Family Daily Broadcast. They were glad it got a good response from listeners, but by then, Bo was tired of retelling and reliving his story of God’s grace behind bars. Most of all, he was tired of crying. He’d wept practically every day for nearly three years, broken-hearted from the pain of incarceration and the underlying feeling of sadness that he’d let everyone down.
Never better
On Aug. 1, 1994, the tears finally stopped. It happened when Bo vowed to say “never better” whenever people asked how he was doing. His overall perspective changed immediately, perhaps because it reflected God’s view of him and his future. There was a new joy in the Mitchells’ lives and their marriage.
Bo and Gari Mitchell still tell their story, emphasizing how God used prison to refine them and their marriage. They encourage couples to let God do the same with their own trials and to see their own ordeals as a “God deal.”
“When Bo went to prison, it was actually a dramatic shift in our relationship,” Gari says now. “I became number one because he needed me so much. And that has continued since prison.”
How is Bo and Gari Mitchell’s relationship today, after 50 years together? It’s not perfect. But it’s never been better.
If your marriage is in trouble, there is hope. The Focus on the Family Marriage Institute is here to help — call one of our counselors at 866-875-2915 or visit HopeRestored.FocusOnTheFamily.com.
The post Bo and Gari Mitchell: Finding God’s Grace Behind Bars appeared first on Focus on the Family.
Continue reading...
