May 31, 1997. I was 9 years old and had just hit my first home run for Tampa Bay Little League. After the game, a parent handed me the ball, and I wrote the date on it. Today, that ball still rests on a shelf in my den — a small monument to childhood and a boyhood milestone.Last week, my 7-year-old son earned the game ball after his own baseball game. He plays in the same league and on the same field where I hit that home run. Naturally, I placed his ball right next to mine.After our last game, my fellow coaches and I said what we all knew to be true: We’re not just teaching a sport. We’re raising boys into men — through baseball.As I set his ball on the shelf, I picked mine up. The handwriting made me laugh — so innocent, with a crossed-out word where I had misspelled something. Suddenly, the memories came rushing back: the smell of the concession stand, the taste of my glove laces from chewing them in the outfield, and the voice of that one dad in the bleachers who never liked an umpire.Then, something else caught my attention. The two baseballs, separated by 32 years, looked exactly the same. Same color. Same stitching. Same weight. Indistinguishable.For a few minutes, I just stood there, staring at the two baseballs. In that quiet moment, something struck me: In a world where nearly everything feels up for grabs — values, definitions, identities, expectations, even truth — a baseball almost feels like an act of rebellion.In a culture obsessed with chasing the next big thing, those two identical balls offered a much-needed reminder: Not everything needs to be reinvented or improved. Some things are worth preserving.If you’re familiar with my work, you know I take pride in celebrating the things that never go out of style — faith, family, and freedom. I cast shade on what’s trendy and shine a bright light on what’s true, good, and beautiful. When the world wobbles, these values steady the ground beneath us. They hold together not just our personal lives but the country itself.And let’s be honest. The world feels very wobbly right now.RELATED: ‘The Man in the Arena’ wears red, white, blue — and wins Photo by Hunter Martin/Getty ImagesOur institutions keep demanding that we reconsider basic truths: that men can become women, that state ideology trumps parental authority, that patriotism poses a threat, that faith offends, and that masculinity is somehow toxic.Every tradition gets questioned. Every boundary, blurred. Every norm, up for debate.And yet — there sits the baseball. Quiet. Unchanged. Still exactly where I left it.That’s not an accident. It points to something deeper, something God has written into the human heart: a longing for the eternal. For stability. For order. For truth that doesn’t shift with the culture.When I coach my son on the same diamond I played on as a boy, I don’t think about preparing him for the chaos of the world. My job is to anchor him in the things that aren’t chaotic. After our last game, my fellow coaches and I said what we all knew to be true: We’re not just teaching a sport. We’re raising boys into men — through baseball.We’re teaching them that manhood isn’t a moving target. That marriage is a covenant, not a contract. That freedom comes with responsibility.Tradition isn’t something to escape. It’s something to inherit, to steward, and to pass on. That’s what fatherhood demands. It’s what citizenship requires. It’s what faith commands.Despite what modern culture preaches, tradition isn’t about control — it’s about continuity. It’s the through line that links generations, so we don’t get swept away by every cultural trend. Headlines change. They don’t define you.You’re defined by how you love your family; how you serve your neighbors; how you show up when it’s inconvenient; how you choose courage when convenience would be easier; how you pray when no one’s watching; how you toss the ball around with your kid in the backyard.The stitching on that baseball never changed; neither did the role of a father; neither did the moral clarity of the gospel; neither did the beauty of a shared meal or the dignity of honest work.It’s time we return to those things.In a culture obsessed with change, maybe the wiser path is to focus on what doesn’t. Maybe the real challenge isn’t keeping up with the world — it’s keeping faith with the people and principles that mattered before the world got so loud.In 1776, North Carolina’s constitution echoed that truth. American founder George Mason wrote, “A frequent recurrence to fundamental principles is absolutely necessary to preserve the blessing of liberty.”That baseball on the shelf hasn’t changed — neither have the things that matter most.And I’m holding on tight.

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