March 22, 2020 - Day 7: Sports Stood Still

Former chief justice of the Supreme Court Earl Warren once said, "I always turn to the sports section first. The sports page records people’s accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man’s failures."  Not only does this quote uphold the role of sports journalism in so many of our lives, but it also, perhaps more importantly, gives us a glimmer of what we are all yearning for right now - some good news. 

In the midst of all the Coronavirus talk - and there's plenty of that - I find myself longing for the standard that has sustained so many spring and summer seasons throughout my life - baseball.

Baseball has long played a crucial role in my life and in developing who I have eventually become.  As a young girl, my brother, who is 12 years my senior, would often load me up and take me to the ballpark hours before his high school and legion games.  The ballpark, Kiger Stadium, came to be a sort of home away from home.  So many spring afternoons, sun or snow, and so many summer twilights were spent there, that I soon came to earn the nickname "Judy Ballpark."

There is some kind of magic that happens in those hours before the game.  The players stretch, take batting practice, and complete infield and outfield drills.  Each player going through his own pre-game routine (sure to be rife with a superstitious element or two).  The concessionaires arrive and open their stands.  The scent of grills well seasoned with the tantalizing juices of burger patties and hot dogs begins to waft out into the stands.  Fans begin to arrive, waving and smiling at one another - seemingly thrilled to spend another evening together at the field.  All of this happens before the game even begins.  These precious hours of routine, ritualized preparation hold the beautiful promise that there is no predicting that which is about to happen in the game. 

Then, the national anthem will play.  The first pitch will be thrown and the game will be underway.  For the next few hours, the crowd will watch two teams struggle after victory, inning after inning.  The lone batter will have to face his opponent on the pitcher's mound.  The batter relies on his teammates to cheer and support him, but he must muster the courage to face the adversity on his own.  He can be sure that the pitcher is going to try everything in his power to trip him up, psych him out, and pitch right past him.  Fans will cheer on the batter and there is the almighty hope of getting a hit. And, the batter knows, if he can make contact with ball, then the rest is largely out of his hands.  He is resigned to the fact that the fielders on the other team will do whatever they can do to make the out.   This is known, and expected, in the game, for that is how the game is played.  But...

The game of baseball is full of as much uncertainty as it is certainty.  Some of you may remember the famous line from Bull Durham, when "Nuke" tells a reporter, "Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. And, sometimes it rains."  There is certainly no controlling the weather in baseball, and that's just the beginning of uncontrollable elements.  There's no controlling the calls made by the ump behind the plate, or out in the field.  There's no controlling the skills and abilities of the players on the opposing team, or the conditions of the field.  And, there's certainly no controlling the obnoxious fans whose spirits rise and fall by the performance of their team.

I miss all of this.  I miss spring training.  I miss watching my nephews take the field, and seeing my brother stand in the third, or first base, box.  I miss hearing how my nephews are doing in each of their games that fill our time during the spring months.  I miss the crack of the bat, and the soothing sound of the ball hitting the inside of a glove.  I miss the umps called strike three.  I miss all the rituals and preparations for a game well-played.  I miss all the certainties and uncertainties of the game, and the seemingly impossible balance that baseball seems to strike between the two.  I miss the hope and the nervous excitement in pursuing a win.  
 
The game of baseball mirrors life, in terms of success and failure, certainty and uncertainty.  Perhaps that's why so many of us crave the consistency that the game provides each and every spring.  We relish in it's certainty and uncertainty, alike.  The knowingness that in 9 innings there will be a series of ups and downs, and in the end, everything will be all right. In this moment, life has thrown us a proverbial curve ball with this novel virus and we must muster the courage to face it.  We must believe that if we make necessary preparations and take necessary steps to keep ourselves and our communities safe - we, too, will be all right. 

I can count on one hand the times I personally remember amateur and professional sports coming to a grinding halt.  Major catastrophic events have halted the sports world in the past, but none has been as disruptive as the novel Coronavirus.  And, in a time when we could really use the pick-me-up that sports often brings, we have nothing to fall back on (although Table Tennis is making a huge, and unprecedented, run on ESPN right now!)  This virus is a harsh reminder that there are some things that are much bigger than baseball.  But, baseball will be back.  The long season and nights spent under the stadium lights will return.  We don't know when, but I am confident that when it returns the fans will flood the stadiums, the players will take the field with a newfound hustle and joy, and our appreciation, gratitude, and love for the game will grow even deeper.  Until then, I'll be sitting at home, on my couch, watching reruns of World Series' past, cheering for America and America's greatest pastime, alike.  Even though I'll have to pop my own popcorn (which is nowhere near the same as stadium corn) and drink my own can of soda while I watch, it'll be something to get me through.  And, I will be here waiting, with open arms, for a very welcome return to the grind.