I considered many options for the “M” essay in our Abecedarium. I thought about Meditation, since I’ve recently gotten back into regular practice and could talk about how useful it is. Or I could have used Mindfulness as my “M” word, since that’s really what meditation is all about—learning to be present. But I don’t want to talk about those things. They are boring. I want to talk about baseball. “But, Sherri,” you say, “baseball is boring!” And I would answer, “You are right. But baseball is boring in a good way.”
When I was a little tomboy, I played softball for several summers. My Dad taught me how to play, just as he taught me how to play basketball and swing a golf club (although he taught his lefty daughter how to golf right-handed which is why I don’t play golf). Nothing could beat those spring and summer evenings in 90 degree Atlanta heat with 90% humidity, watching 8 year olds dink a softball and miss three different throws to ensure an infield home run! Good memories! Actually, they ARE good memories. And that’s the point today. I have very fond memories of watching Atlanta Braves games on TV with my Dad. I would usually score the games because it made the time more interesting. I even have a memory of going to a game live, sitting there with my glove in my lap, both hoping and fearing that a foul ball would come our way.
Something happened over the intervening years, though. I strayed from baseball. It became….boring. The game moved too slowly. I wasn’t passionate about any team. It couldn’t hold my attention. Then Trish and John Kruk brought baseball back into my life. Philadelphia is a sports town and we Philadelphians are famously Phanatical about our teams. Trish and I watch the Eagles play football in the fall and winter and baseball in the spring and summer. (We cry a lot between the Super Bowl and the start of Spring Training baseball.) We often watch football with our neighbors, always decked out in Eagles green, and usually with lots of alcohol. Football games are an EVENT because there are only 17 games in the regular season and they all mean something. There is lots of action and brutality and yelling at the TV—all things that make for good wholesome fun.
Baseball is different. There are 162 games in the regular season so any given game has little meaning. That doesn’t mean we don’t get disgusted and throw things at the TV but we do get over it more quickly. Plus, the pace of the game is just slower. And that’s where John Kruk comes in. Kruker is an all star first baseman who played for the Phillies from 1989 until 1994. He’s also a very down-to-earth guy who is just a joy to listen to when he comments on baseball. Kruker and Tom McCarthy, the Phillies play-by-play announcer, have a comfortable on-air banter that sometimes includes talking baseball and often involves stories from John’s playing days, life growing up in West Virginia, and whatever food he can coerce the vendors from Citizens Bank Park to bring up to him. I’d say he’s the perfect mix of John Madden, Tony Romo, and Yogi Berra. He brought back my love of the game. You can find us most summer nights watching the Phils, playing on our iPads, and laughing with John and Tom. It’s a good life.
Every now and then, we wander to the park to watch a game live. This week, we were lucky enough to catch two games in person. Last Sunday, we went down to Citizens Bank Park to watch the Phillies take on the Mets. My best friend and her husband met us there and he was even brave enough to wear his Mets T-shirt (although he softened the pushback from Phillies fans by wearing an Eagles cap). You never know what the weather will be like when you buy tickets but that’s part of the fun. CB Park is an outdoor stadium—none of this wimpy dome stuff for us stout Philly fans! We melt in the summer and freeze in the winter like the good Lord intended! Sunday happened to be a “melt” day. And we were in full sun. Thankfully, we were on the Hall of Fame level, which meant we could go into air conditioning if needed. It was needed. We ate. We drank. We laughed. We sweated. And we watched a little baseball. That’s the good thing about the game. Even with the new rules to speed things up, you just don’t miss much if you go to the bathroom. Or go get ice cream. Or sit and chat for a while, eating the ice cream.
Unfortunately, the Phillies were as listless as we were that day and by the bottom of the 7th inning we’d had enough. Plus, Trish was getting dehydrated since I just can’t get the woman to drink enough water. Afternoon thunderstorms were rolling in, the Phils were down 6-3, and it looked like it was just going to get worse. Of course, baseball being baseball, as we were driving home Lorraine checked her phone and exclaimed, “What the?! The Phillies are ahead 7-6!” We turned on the radio to learn that the Phils came up to bat in the 8th inning and pulled ahead in true Phillies style. Not by actually “batting” of course. There was one actual hit, two walks, and two batters who got hit by pitches, resulting in four runs. The Phillies won (well, the Mets lost) and we missed the rain. All in all, a good day.
Wednesday, we drove up to the Lehigh Valley to watch the Phillies AAA farm team, the Iron Pigs, play. We REALLY went up to meet Charlie Manuel, the legendary Phillies manager who led the team to a World Series victory in 2008. Such a nice man! He shook our hands, signed our baseballs in script that is actually legible, and posed for a picture. We took our seats behind home plate and settled in for a beautiful (and comfortable) night of baseball. In spite of the fact that the bratwurst vendor hadn’t bothered to cook any bratwurst (what?) and the gluten free stand had no buns for their sandwiches (what?), it was a great night. The guy sitting next to me broke the ice when he leaned over to his adult son and said loudly, “If a foul ball comes this way, I think I can take this lady sitting next to me.” I, of course, gave it right back to him and a friendship with Chuck was born. We yelled at the batters together. We discussed our mutual love of John Kruk. We hoped for a foul ball which never came. And we cheered on Hambone in the Running of the Meat Products. (Poor Hambone never wins.)
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I made some really great memories this week. I look over at that signed baseball and think about complaining that we signed Trea Turner for way too much money (and then he hits a home run), cheering for Bryce Harper, booing the Mets pitcher when he checked the runner at first base, arguing over how short the Iron Pigs third baseman is, and sparring with Chuck about foul balls. I think about comfortable summer evenings watching the Boys of Summer do their thing and sweltering summer afternoons with some of the most important people in my life, wondering how long the Philly Phanatic can stay in that hot costume. And that’s what it’s all about. Life is short. Go make some memories.