A Love Letter to Baseball

Oh, how I’ve missed you.

You’ve been gone for months.

Sure, that was that two-week Classic affair with the World.

About two months ago, you started poking your head in and out just to get the lay of the land and testing a few things.  

But tomorrow? Tomorrow you’ll come back in full force. Ready to stay. Every bit of it will matter. It will be the start of a love story that will last eight or nine months.

Fortunately, I know that I am not alone in the strong affections I hold for you. Unfortunately, I know that the number of those that share my passion for you is dwindling. I know that there isn’t much that either of us can do about it. I know, however, that I can try to make them see. I can try to explain to them why you matter so.

In a nutshell, because everything these days needs to be bite-sized, you are the perfect metaphor for life itself.

No one life can be lived independently of another. There are times when it takes collaboration between two, three, or even more, to achieve an objective.

There are times when we are the stars of our own world. We are the main character. Everything revolves around us. Our success is a forgone conclusion.

There are times when we can’t figure out how we came to cameo in this series. We can identify who the protagonist is and we feel like maybe we should keep our head down, not get in the way.

There are times we are doing okay, but it goes unnoticed. So we push ourselves to do phenomenal. We fail. We get in our heads. We push too hard. We disappear for a bit. We need to take time to work on ourselves.

We try too hard, sometimes. Just when things get rolling well, we feel the need to make everything better. We push ourselves to capitalize on everything and we get frustrated when the success is a little thing, rather than everything.

Baseball, you are the perfect caricature of life.

Sometimes, we can be the best player on the planet, but without the right support, and the right amount of support, we see only individual success, but little glory. We cannot point to the major wins, the championships.

Sometimes, our production is middling. Sure, it’s consistent, but it’s not stellar. It’s enough, but it makes the difference. Those around us depend on the reliability, the foundation of greater success.

There are stretches of time where everything comes at us seemingly nonstop. Every pitch is hit right to us. Every ground ball and line drive and pop fly are in the area of the world we inhabit.

There are days, weeks, and sometimes longer where we see little to no action at all, despite showing up every day, ready and prepared.

There are times when we need to take a back seat. To let someone else take the spotlight. To support them.

Even on the bench, we must be ready if we need to pinch hit or get that one out.

There are moments when our bodies need to heal, and we have to take the time, even if we know that it means we risk losing our spot.

We have experiences where it just may not be the right fit. It’s the wrong position. It’s the wrong team. It’s the wrong city or circumstance or coach. A change of scenery can take us from good to great to excellent.

There will be observers that praise us. There will be those that doubt us. Those that mock us. Those that want to see us fail. We have to tune them all out. The good with the bad.

At different points in our lives, we are the batter striking out or the pitcher get the strike out. We give up home runs. We hit home runs. We extend a play. We get caught stretching a single into a double. We ground into double plays, we finish double plays, we start double plays with acrobatic pizzaz that wows even the most ardent hater. We are in the thick of the game and we are watching from the dugout.

We each have a role in life and that role changes. It may change daily. It may change weekly. It may take years or be season to season or inning to inning. But we’re not alone. We’re never alone. There is always a teammate or eight or 25 trying to make sure they are in the right position for what their role is.

Most importantly, we win together. No victory is isolated. No victory is solo. It is a team effort.

Thank you, baseball, for reminding us that life is a team sport.

We’re excited to see you again tomorrow.