The third ward verses the seventh ward. Us verses them. Insiders verses outsiders. My buddies and I were third warders. We were full of ourselves. But why wouldn’t we be? Our ward display case was full of softball trophies. Our scouting program was full of Eagle scouts. Our report cards were full of A’s. And our bulletin board was full of missionary photos. By comparison, the guys in the seventh ward had few of those things. I needed those guys, but only to remind me how low they were. The lower I made them out to be, the higher...

