ALLISON: I Believe in the Church of Baseball

Long before I met Adam I was a fan of diamonds- both of the baseball variety and otherwise if I’m being really honest. When I began my love affair with “America’s Pastime” as a young girl I had no idea what kind of real life love affair it would lead me to and how the game would become a part of my story. Accidentally (but luckily!) for me, the man of my dreams helped my love for one diamond flourish while Adam pledged his forever love with the other, more glamorous, form of diamond.

Not only is baseball an integral part of America’s athletic history but for many families some of their fondest memories of being together is loading up the car and heading out to a ballgame. There is something about a father taking his son (or daughter, hello!) to his first baseball game and seeing his innocent eyes glimmer with the anticipation of nabbing a foul ball, getting an autograph from their favorite player or eating a GIANT spool of cotton candy.

I remember going to a Texas Rangers’ game with my dad when I was young and I was DYING for a game-used Todd Zeile bat that they were selling at the gift shop*. I silently pouted until the 7th inning when my dad finally gave in (as he usually did) and bought me that bat. I was over the moon! I still have it in my old room at my mom’s house and it always brings back vivid memories of nearly 20 years ago.

My first experience at a park other than the Rangers’ field was also memorable. My family and I were in New York and went to a Yankees game at old Yankee Stadium when I was probably 8 or 9. It was an afternoon game in the middle of summer, blazing hot, and we happened to have seats right near the visitors’ bullpen. When the opposing team’s starter began to tire in the stifling summer heat several relievers started to loosen their arms and warm-up. Y’all, all hell broke loose. Suddenly, hot and incredibly sweaty New Yorkers unleashed their ruthless verbal attacks on the bullpen guys. I can’t be certain, but to this day I’m not sure that I have heard such a filthy monologue… except maybe on an episode of The Sopranos. But I freaking LOVED IT! 

I was hooked on the atmosphere, the American spirit that baseball embodied and the camaraderie that the game seemed to produce for fans and players alike. I have now been to a World Series game, many College World Series games, seven different major league ballparks and my list of minor league ballparks is growing by the baseball season. 

But I ask myself… aside from getting to see my husband wear baseball pants every day for six months out of the year, why do I love baseball so much? Why has this game that many people find “boring” or “slow” captured my soul?

Baseball is a sport of combined power, finesse and perfection. The backdrop of the game not only allows for social interaction with friends and family without deterring you from the action on the field, but it DEMANDS conversation. It is simple enough for young children to understand but complex enough to keep even the oldest of fans engaged. The outcome of the game is never definite until the final out is made. Both teams have an equal opportunity to score every game. It’s one of the only sports where the defense controls the game. You can be successful 3 out of 10 times and find yourself on the positive side of the performance spectrum. Baseball is physically inviting to boys and men of all shapes and sizes. The constant mental game of chess between the pitcher and the batters is complex and intricate.  There is constant non-verbal communication happening on the field. “Free baseball” makes you hang on every pitch. 

Baseball players never really seem to grow up; they make fun of each other, make up secret handshakes and create their own language, similar to small children on a playground. The smell of the grass, hot dogs and beer immediately creates a vibrant environment of youth. The game itself is unselfish. The unspoken rules of baseball are essential yet can be detrimental. Magic is made in October. Ninety feet have, and always will be, ninety feet. Sixty feet and six inches have, and always will be, sixty feet and six inches. The tradition of the game meshes generations. The ever changing, yet consistent nature of the game keeps it traditional as well as making it modern. I could go on forever, but you get the point. Plus, let’s face it; boys running around in baseball pants is never a bad thing! 

What I think baseball boils down to is its uncanny ability to mirror everyday life. One of my favorite aspects of the game that simulates life is that the main goal of baseball is always to come home. You methodically move around the diamond until you end up where you want to be, at home; if you don’t end up successful you know that you put in your best effort to get there. Isn’t that everybody’s goal at the end of the day, to come home? Home is a place of comfort, relaxation and love, which are things that everyone strives for to some extent. The game is effortlessly relatable to each of our very own daily struggles and successes. You can fail miserably today and yet still have the gift of opportunity to be the hero tomorrow. Redemption is always only a day away. You have to be able to accept that the past is the past and in order to succeed you have to look forward with optimism and excitement. Slumps will happen, but you always have a chance to hit a game-winning grand slam the next day if you are patient and persistent.

Over the last several years the baseball field has become a place of tranquility and friendship for me. It’s a place for me to catch up with my friends while watching my husband chase his dreams. It’s a sacred place where I can set aside the rigors of adulthood while enjoying the fact that no matter what, this game will forever be a part of my marriage, my family and my story. What could be better? Not much… not much at all.

Xoxo,
AP

*Ironically, Adam played with Todd Zeile’s nephew, Shane, at UCLA. You can imagine the look on his face when Adam told him that I still have his uncle’s bat in my room.