I have had the privilege of pacing the sidelines at hundreds of amateur sporting events, beginning in my high school days and continuing over the past 36 years. It has always been a delicate balancing act because in most cases, I usually have a vested interest in the game at hand as a player, a parent, a fan, or as a teacher. But I am also a professional photographer, and I have a job to do covering such games.

During my career as a photographer, I have seen the full gamut of sportsmanship and conduct, from noteworthy to notorious. I have witnessed the good, the bad, and the ugly, sometimes even in the same night. But I have one particular experience that lifted my heart, blessed me beyond measure, and exemplified for me the essence and power of Christian sportsmanship.

My kids were essentially sick for an entire month last winter. I cleaned up more vomit in a month than I have in a lifetime and it’s a miracle that our son didn’t end up in the hospital dehydrated. Throughout the week, my wife Sarah and I shuffled our schedules so that we could take turns being with the kids while the other went to work, but eventually the Sunday morning alarm went off.