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I've got a few mementoes on my office shelves—family photos, a piece of hand-made pottery I bought on a missions trip to Spain, a personalized mug from my alma mater, the University of Virginia.

And a tennis ball.

But it's no ordinary tennis ball. It's signed by the guy who was my Sports Hero during my teen years—Sweden's Bjorn Borg, one of the greatest ever to play the game.

I was really into tennis when Borg was dominating the game. In 1976, while I was playing tournaments all over southeastern Virginia, Borg was playing all over the world, and winning just about everything—including the first of five consecutive Wimbledon singles titles, still a record. Borg won 61 tournaments before he stunned the world by retiring in 1982. He was just 26.

Borg was the type of sports hero I not only admired, but tried to emulate. He hit huge, looping topspin groundstrokes; so did I. He used a two-handed backhand; so did I. He was never terribly comfortable at the net; neither was I.

And Borg, ever the gentleman, never lost his temper or threw his racket; and neither … OK, OK. The comparisons stop there; I've got the broken rackets to prove it.

I not only wanted to play like Bjorn Borg. I wanted to be Bjorn Borg. I wanted to fall to my knees, victorious, on the worn grass of Wimbledon's Centre Court, just like Borg always did after winning the final point. I framed the "Bjorn Again" cover of Sports Illustrated, and imagined myself in his shoes, in that photo: "Moring Again!"

So imagine my surprise and disappointment when I read a recent story that Borg plans to auction off his five Wimbledon trophies and two rackets to achieve "financial security," according to a statement from Borg, who has been beleaguered by several failed business ventures.

But a day later, Borg denied that he was selling the trophies and rackets for financial reasons, calling such stories "ridiculous." His explanation:

"I have won so much and so many trophies," Borg said. "I can't keep track of everything. I thought the trophies and rackets might be something that someone might want to have.

"Wimbledon is the biggest thing you can win as a player, but I have got so many films and other things I can use to jog my memory. But if no one wants the trophies and the rackets, I will just take them back."

I ain't buying it. For me, what was initially sadness—that Borg had to part with these prized possessions because of financial woes—has now turned to disbelief. If Borg doesn't need the money, I can't believe he—or anyone—would even consider such a thing. I'm sure he does have plenty of things "to jog his memory." But to sell his Wimbledon trophies—the most treasured hardware in tennis?

What is he thinking??

Sure, I know the passage about storing up our treasures in heaven, and not on earth "where they can be eaten by moths and get rusty, and where thieves break in and steal" (Matt. 6:19, NLT). Fair enough, and I suppose it's possible Borg has the right idea—that in the Big Picture, his Wimbledon trophies are just going to "get rusty."

But Scripture also indicates that it's good to keep those things that remind us of our victories. See, for example, Samuel's Ebenezer (1 Sam. 7:12) and Joshua's 12 stones (Josh. 4:1-9)—or even the empty cross, a reminder of the greatest victory of all time.

A few phrases in the Joshua passage are telling. The stones are to "serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them." "These stones are to be a memorial … forever." "And they are there to this day."

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March (Web-only) 2006, Vol. 50