What I Love About Baseball

(Particularly Phillies baseball.)

After a major win, the fans come out of their homes, after the last ball is hit and caught, there is something in the air. In these moments, there is nothing more spiritually charged than the aftermath of the great American past time. During those intense moments everyone is on their feet. No creeds, no religions, no ethnicity. In those moments neither money nor the past matter. In one city, thousands upon thousands of people are cheering for and hoping for the same exact thing. They are all hoping for the win. If only this mentality could so easily be spread to other areas of life, world peace just might be possible.

Yes, it's a sport which means someone wins and someone loses. But, learn from the players... no need to hate the other team... they chat with each other while waiting on base.

In a city like Philadelphia (as well as so many others around the country) when things are moving along, everyone buys into the hope of the win. Everyone (that is - everyone who has even a minor interest in the sport, everyone who has any team/city spirit whatsoever) is hoping that justice prevails and that the good guy comes out on top.

Whether the players are jogging around the field or moving as fast as they possibly can, it is interesting to think that at some point, not too terribly long ago... many of them were sitting in the back of a history class somewhere, sitting in the front of an algebra class somewhere else. They sat there hoping the teacher didn't call on them because they simply did not know the answer. They are just people, like you and me. Except now they get to listen to the hoots and hollers of fans as they round the bases.

They worked hard to get there. If only we were willing to work so hard... imagine that.

In the last seconds, there is silence, as if an entire city hold it's collective breath at once. You move closer to the TV, rather involuntarily, and you jump up as the second of "win" collects in the air. Then - almost without warning - a city erupts. Not in violence but in celebration. All you can do at that point is be thankful you were there to see a dream come true.

Dreams often falter under the weight of living. Hopes get squashed and drive turns to nothing but sputter and stall. Then - suddenly - a batter steps to the plate. Opportunity comes around for the little boys grown up, little boys in a man sized suit, playing a game. Possibility is real. At that plate stands someone who shows you, in everyday ware, that it can happen - something can happen as long as you keep trying.

The game they play has outlasted strikes, boredom and loss. Just as relationships and the long road to our own dreams hold. Stick it out. Not easy but possible.

There is a spirit, a love, a passion that goes beyond the everyday and finds it's way into the average man's (or woman's) heart. It is in the crack of the bat, the soar of the ball, the glove of a man momentarily turned demi-god. Late bills, the noisy neighbors, and the job you hate fall to the wayside. What you are witnessing is the human spirit come alive. This is baseball. And when your team wins, it is nothing less than radiant, nothing less than glorious. It is hope. It is faith seen. It is hoping for the best and waiting it out until it finally shows up. It is love in action.

And that is what I love about baseball.