That’s so bad!
How is he supposed to hit that!?
Wait, that’s not right!

I get these and many other comments yelled at me weekly while serving as an umpire for a youth baseball league. It can be unnerving, but I am rarely the only person on the field who is stressed out. Plenty of umpires, coaches and parents, who participate for the love of the game, also struggle with the strenuous, pressure-packed culture of competition in youth sports. Parents sign up their children for leagues that cost thousands of dollars; they buy them equipment that replicates that of the major leagues. Many pressure their sons and daughters to play at the same level as elite athletes.

This was not the culture of youth sports that I remember playing. My father coached many of my teams, and I was always in leagues in which my fellow teammates were of all different skill sets. That was what made playing youth sports so exciting and fun. The encouragement, development and spirit of the game was the same for all involved.

Now, as a youth baseball umpire, I see my service as a spiritual opportunity. I try to grow in my personal faith through the efforts and teamwork I witness on the field, but also to use this vocation as a way to show the light of Christ to others. I was reminded of this when reading Pray Like a Champion Today, by Nate Wills, C.S.C., the chaplain of the Notre Dame football team, when he recounted praying with football referees, who he says are the ones “no one talks to” before the games. Given that, he makes an effort to introduce himself to the refs and strike up conversations, which he mentions sometimes provide “an unexpected moment to encounter his faith on the field and to celebrate our brotherhood in Christ.” He strives to “integrate my own faith in a way that shines more brightly through the things I do and say.” In my time as a baseball umpire, I have found this to be true.

With that in mind, I would like to share some lessons from my time on the diamond, lessons that parallel our life in the church and in our relationship with Jesus Christ.

[Related: How America Sold Out Little League Baseball]

Umpiring has opened my eyes to a new understanding of justice. Practicing equality and justice on the field means having the same strike zone for both teams. It means enforcing the same rules for both sides, even when you might feel badly for an inferior team. The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us, “Justice is the moral virtue that consists in the constant and firm will to give their due to God and neighbor” (No. 1807). Justice allows everyone a chance to win.

During one game I umpired this year, a pitcher was having what seemed to be the best game of his young life. He got the first 12 batters out in the first four innings of this Little League six-inning game, meaning he was six outs away from a perfect game. The realization dawned on me, and the tension in my body built as I thought, Do not screw this up for him.

But of course, the other team was still trying to perform at their best and win as well. I was not just umpiring for this young player trying to achieve an amazing feat. I had to be neutral in my calls and give both teams a fair shot. Four pitches into the fifth inning and the young pitcher walked his first batter of the game. There would be no perfect game that night. Much as it would be enticing to call a perfect game, I was not going to call a bad pitch a strike. And I doubt that player would have wanted that either.

Umpiring allows me to practice discipline. Any coach or parent has the right to stand up for their player if they believe an umpire has made a bad call. (And, believe me, I have gotten many calls wrong.) But too often, I have seen this go too far. We have all witnessed, perhaps at live games or in viral videos, parents yelling at umpires and referees, often to the point of distracting their children from enjoying the game.

I have been on the receiving end of those yells only a handful of times. When a coach or parent, and sometimes even a player, yells at me and screams in my face, the temptation to yell and scream back is one of my first instincts. Sports can become emotional, especially in hard-fought, close games with a great deal at stake. However, we are not playing in the major-league World Series. That’s why I remind myself of Mark 8:36: “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

There is a famous saying, often attributed to St. Teresa of Calcutta: “People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.” It is one of the greatest lessons to be learned from the lives of the saints. We are called to give the best that we have, even when it hurts, even when others try to bring us down, because our spiritual conscience compels us to follow God’s rule, not those of any sport or society.

The biggest question one can ask when we are faced with temptation is, “Are we strong enough to walk away?” Often, the best response to our being met with anger, humiliation or self-centeredness is no response at all. When people yell and get frustrated with you, practice forgiving them anyway. Because everyone deserves the same dignity and respect as children of God.

Umpiring has taught me to be humble. As I said, I don’t get every call right. And most of the time, I know immediately when I got it wrong. Admitting that error can be humbling. But when we acknowledge our mistakes and admit that we are wrong, we are actually living as Christ would call us to live. We are choosing to do the hard thing, even when we wish we could do otherwise. If we practice humility, we imitate and serve Christ, living our faith in front of others.

One night when I was umpiring a fairly competitive game, I was becoming quite exhausted from the heat and the quick pace of the game. I could tell that one team’s coach was not happy with some of my calls, and then one play that I missed pushed him over the edge. He became pretty vocal about my blunder. Between innings, he and I discussed the issue, and I simply acknowledged, “Coach, I will admit that I missed that play at first base.” He responded by saying, “You know what, that’s a great umpire right there. You earned all my respect tonight just by admitting that.”

Umpiring has taught me to cultivate joy. This is perhaps the most important lesson I have learned from umpiring. All eyes are going to be on an umpire during a game. You are the only one wearing a uniform that looks different. In most cases, you’re on a team of one, in your own silo. So, in an effort to combat this, one of the first things I find myself doing is acknowledging everyone around me. I’ve seen too many umpires who just show up at the field, seclude themselves behind home plate and let the game start. As a way of showing both teams’ coaches, players and fans that I am engaged and interested in being there, I offer simple pleasantries like,“Beautiful night for a ballgame!” or “Don’t go easy on me tonight!” All of these express a joyful approach to umpiring, which cultivates an environment in which everyone can go into the game with a joyful attitude.

In “Evangelii Gaudium,” Pope Francis reminds us what evangelization is: “Proclaiming Christ means showing that to believe in and to follow him is not only something right and true, but also something beautiful, capable of filling life with new splendour and profound joy, even in the midst of difficulties” (No. 167). Read that again: “Profound joy, even in the midst of difficulties.” Cultivating joy and happiness in the most difficult or uncomfortable spaces is never easy, but it can be among the most important things we do in our spiritual lives.

Joy, peace and happiness are what sports can bring to people every day. In the last line of his letter on the value of sport, titled “Life in Abundance,” Pope Leo XIV, a well-known fan of baseball himself, reminds us that “sport can truly become a school of life, where all can learn that abundance does not come from victory at any cost, but from sharing, from respecting others and from the joy of walking together.”

I look at every game I umpire as a journey from the first pitch to the last out, walking together with each player through all of the emotions that come with growing in their love of the sport and learning the complexities that come with it. Our faith, too, is complex and must be formed through accompaniment during our failures and challenges, our sins and losses, not just through the accomplishments God makes possible for us by way of our gifts and talents.

When we are in the midst of striving for greatness and winning, trying to be perfect in everything we do, we must not forget the love that is at the heart of what we are doing in the first place. Because, whether on the baseball field or in everyday life, humility, justice, charity and joy lead us to new ways to live our faith and encounter Christ in the most unexpected places.

Brendan DeVenney is a campus minister and theology teacher at Catholic Memorial School in Boston.