Finding Comfort in America’s Past Time

It is October. In many parts of the country it means the changing of the maples from a pale green to the most glorious shades of crimson and gold, the digging of sweaters out of our closets, a sea of women sporting their favorite pair of comfy knee-high boots, and everything pumpkin spice. Everything.

But for myself, and the majority of the nation, it means baseball. It means America’s past time. The changing of the seasons does usher in a new line up of sports offerings on the tv, and living in Texas is a constant reminder that football is king. To that I say, sorry Texans. I could care less, because to me, it is still baseball season. It has been baseball season since April 2nd.

But I’m not here to talk about the specifics of the sport; this isn’t that kind of piece. Instead I want relish in what baseball actually means to me.

I, for the most part, write about issues related to pregnancy, childbirth, and raising children as part my bourgeoning career as a childbirth educator. I moderate a Facebook group of pregnant and postpartum mothers, who coalesce around their shared experience to support each other during this awesome part of their life. I recently asked them for topic ideas of things they would like to see me write about. One of the ideas was on coping strategies to combat stress during these very turbulent times that we live in. While they were likely expecting me to provide them a list of things like yoga, massage, meditation, walks with the dog, reading a good book, or volunteering in their local community, my very first thought might comes as a bit of a surprise to them.

Baseball.

Yes. Three plus hours of hitting, catching and base running has been one of the things that has kept me relatively sane in what feels like a never ending flood of tragedy and chaos in our local and national landscape. And despite the leagues efforts to shorten the game by any ridiculous and archaic means necessary, it wouldn’t matter. If the game was seven hours long I would still watch it. So why this and not the latest hot yoga class or a trip to whatever new crossfit gym just opened up in your neighborhood? Those things are great too, but why do we do them?

A meaningful yoga practice session is achieved when one is able to clear their mind and focus their positive thoughts inward. It’s not completely escaspism, but, really, it kind of is. And for me, watching a game, either on tv or at the ballpark, is one of the most mind-clearing things I like to do these days.

It reminds me of my own childhood experiences playing the game. My dad was the coach of my elementary school softball team. It reminds of all the pop flies he made me catch everyday after practice once everyone had left, and how I learned to play every position just to have a better understanding of the field. It reminds me of how I used to buy a Baby Ruth candy bar at the store before every game in the sixth grade. I remember my very trip to Fenway Park when I was nine years old. Baseball was fun, and above all, baseball was family.

This past June, Louisiana Representative Steve Scalise was shot on a ball field in Alexandria, Virginia while practicing for the upcoming, annual congressional baseball game. That game is an event that brings both parties together for a night of fundraising, where all their petty differences are put aside and they play. They play a game that is distinctly American. After the shooting, and leading up to that game at Nationals Park, news organizations did stories on the power of baseball bringing people together. The Democrats won that game, handily, by a score of 11–2. After it was all over, and hands were shaken, and high fives given, they gave their trophy to the GOP where it would sit in the congressman’s office during his recovery in the hospital.

This past week, after a long, hard fought stay in the hospital, Rep. Scalise threw out the first pitch, on that same ball field he never got to play on four months prior, at game one of the Nationals-Cubs NLDS series. With a walker bracing him, he threw out a perfect toss to Capital police officer David Bailey, also shot in the June incident. While I am not a voting member of the state of Louisiana, and my politics leans a tad to the left of the representative, seeing his face in that video footage from the game is enough to bring happy tears to my eyes. In that moment we are all on the same team.

Baseball is about community, about sportsmanship; it’s about family.

Baseball is everything that is good about the world.

So. Like I said at the beginning. It’s October. One of my favorite childhood characters was the spunky Anne of Anne of Green Gables. There is a line in L.M. Montgomery’s book where Anne, in her exuberant and boisterous voice, exclaims how delightful it is to see those glorious colors and experience the changes that the fall ushers in. There is a comfort like no other in the feel of fall and all it brings to us. And while I know she was not referring to the pending World Series match-up, I think the line is applicable here too, and I cannot agree more with her.

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”