Going, going, gone! While it may be one of America’s less popular sports in the modern era, I’m here to tell you just how wonderful and important our national pastime really is.
Baseball has been a big part of my life, and I’d like to take this time to express exactly how and in which ways it’s touched my life. Seeing as the season started this month, I find this a perfect time to reflect on the changes baseball has brought about for not only me, but for the community at large as well.
As a child, baseball was the first sport I got into. I played in the backyard, the street, the playground, essentially wherever there was a conceivable diamond to be imagined. I quickly decided I wanted to keep playing, and I joined a Little League team at my elementary school. My time in Little League taught me a lot, but most importantly, it taught me teamwork. Baseball’s a game of trust. You’re basically aiming to get this little hard ball toward a person’s face as fast as you can. And despite the “put the worst player in right field” cliché, a good time requires every position to have a solid set of skills.
Besides a general skill set, different types of positions are better suited to specific physical strengths. The second lesson I learned from baseball was that it’s acceptable to specialize in one particular field and trust my team to cover my weaknesses. In Little League, I always played third base or shortstop because most excited little squirts swing a little early and don’t have the power to clear the infield. Basically, I loved the attention I’d get from the hitters — I wanted to be the superstar.
When I made the cut for my first travel team, I was a little astonished — and maybe even a little bitter — to be stationed in center field. With time, however, I began to trust my coach, and I realized that my contribution to the team was the most important when I was out in that beautiful, deep green grass.
All right, so baseball really introduced me to a lot of important concepts, and most of the time it also put a smile on my face. This next ballpark metaphor is not so cheery. For every clutch moment or big win the team had, there’d be another instance in which we’d choke or even lose. Losing sucks, especially when you devote every day to getting as good as you can as an individual and as a team. Two specific instances during my time as a ball player literally brought me to tears.
In Little League, my team made it to the World Series. Not an important one — just a local thing — but needless to say, it was still pretty important. We had a 16-to-1 lead in the top of the final inning. Now, back in those days, I was a closer. I’d come in to pitch the last inning because I was consistent more than anything. However, in this particular game, the coach decided his own blood should be securing first place for the team, and he put his kid on the mound.
We lost that game. To be honest, it’s still the worst coaching I’ve ever seen. For the longest time, I could not for the life of me figure out why, after allowing even 10 runs, I wasn’t put in to finish what our team deserved. That game, everything was clicking. Even some of our worse players showed up and made some huge defensive plays. Everyone had their bats swinging hot, and it should have been a win.
So what’s the lesson here? I’m not good at straightforward answers, so I guess I’ll use another little story. After the game, I remember the poor little pitcher sobbing on the mound. To be fair, many of us, including myself, had tears in our eyes. Then, a sweet little kid who always had his hand in his mouth went up to the mound and got our guy back on his feet. He took him by the hand and walked him to home plate. They started running the bases — something we’d do after every game. The rest of us joined in.
Adversity will always face humanity, and it will succeed at least sometimes. There’s always someone on your team, though, and good teams see losing as just another way to get better. By that logic, the Red Sox, surely after last season, are due for a good one.
