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A Prayer from the Back of the Racquetball Court

No, it wasn’t about my serve

Andy Spears
Backyard Church
3 min readJan 21, 2025

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Photo by Shane Hoving on Unsplash

When I was in college — a few years (or, well, decades) ago, I regularly played racquetball with my roommate.

The school’s fitness center included eight courts. By leaving your university ID at the desk, you could rent racquets and a ball and reserve a court for an hour. You could extend this indefinitely if no one else was waiting.

I liked the intensity of the game. And enjoyed the competitive time with another guy. It was a welcome relief from school and the debate team and student government.

I’m pretty sure, though, that in all the four years I spent playing racquetball at night with a friend, I never once prayed on the court.

No, that wouldn’t happen until I was nearly 50.

Almost two years ago, I walked into a church for the first time in a long time. Attending a church service was suggested as a part of my recovery journey. While I wasn’t excited about the idea, I thought it couldn’t hurt. The church is less than a mile from my house, and I was promised the service would last less than an hour.

I went — and left my phone in my car.

A time of quiet reflection and familiar songs.

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Backyard Church
Backyard Church

Published in Backyard Church

Thoughts on applying a 2000 year old religion to 21st Century life

Andy Spears
Andy Spears

Written by Andy Spears

Writer and policy advocate living in Nashville, TN —Public Policy Ph.D. — writes on education policy, consumer affairs, and more . . .

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