Baseball as Metaphor
I became fascinated with baseball in elementary school, maybe fifth or sixth grade. It is that awkward age when you are both fascinated with strangely morbid things and learning about Life's code of behavior. While I listened to a Cleveland Indians game on the radio, an opponent hit a lazy fly ball to short center field. The second baseman raced out to catch it while the center fielder raced in. Neither heard the other call for the ball.
The collision was bone crushing. Both bodies collapsed unconscious in the grass of short center field. While they lay there motionless, the batter circled the bases for a home run. I was shocked. It wasn't fair!!
The reporter explained the rules of the game: the ball was still in play, the runner was allowed to run. The fielders had to race to get the ball back to the infield and end the play before medical help could come. It was the rule.
In our everyday life similar things happen every day: LIFE knocks us our proverbial ass, yet it goes on. It seems shocking and abnormal that we can barely take a breath yet others eat, drive, sing, laugh, continue running their lives.
It's Life and Baseball.
That's when I started paying attention to game. I borrowed an unused radio and sat in my room listening at they called games. I absorbed the details, the rules, the whys and wherefores. Baseball became my metaphor for living: prepare, work hard, don't show off, shake hands with the opponent at the end. Celebrate the good, punish the bad. Know that nobody hits 1.000.
Do you love baseball? Since Opening Day is Sunday, would you please share your story??