Baseball is one of those games that you get or you think is a huge waste of time. Unless you are me. I love the thought of baseball, but not the actual playing of it. I easily get the attraction to the game. It is relatively accessible as sports go, like bowling, meaning you need developed talent to be considered great at it. But you just need to be upright and have minimal eye-hand coordination to play it at any level.
As a kid, I played Little League and when I was approaching 13, even forsook my Bar Mitzvah to play it with the Baptist church team. I liked having a spiffy uniform and looking the part of a baseball player, but I was a terrible ball player. I knew it. The team knew it. But it didn't matter, Little League used to be a very democratic sport. This means if you were terrible, you played late innings in positions where you'd likely inflict the least damage. But you got to play the game.
Like a lot of suburban Chicago kids, my team was, is, and somehow will always be the Chicago Cubs. I went to a few games, but followed it on radio and TV on WGN. Harry Carey was our drunk uncle who made the game feel close by. When we lived other places, I would still check the box scores and see how my Cubbies were doing. I could tell you the players stats until about 1997. Since then, I occasionally look at the box score or look at the standings just to have a general sense of how things are going.
Generally, I don't get excited about baseball anymore. Several years past, I played in a couple adult softball leagues, but found it was nonsensical to play against people who continued to have blood-lust in their eyes about winning the game. Being able to go to work the next day was a primary objective in my gameday strategy. "Have fun, don't pull a muscle," was my mantra.
Nowadays, despite the Cubs finally winning a World Series, I have no time for baseball in my life. I finally gave away my baseball mitt a couple of years ago. My family took my Dad to Wrigley Field on his 75th birthday and we enjoyed watching the Cubs and the Twins run around in the friendly confines. Mostly, we just enjoyed each other's company.
One of the things about baseball that it doesn't get enough credit about is how much like a family it is. Your teammates are your family for the duration of the season and off the field too. You try to live up to the family/team expectations. Sometimes you win, sometimes not. But you are still part of the team. I always wondered what would happen if the Major Leagues were like Little League and you had to make due with whoever showed up everyday, how much better the game might be. Just like a family.
For the record, I think that baseball is better if it is played by amateurs. I think that gifted athletes are beautiful to watch doing anything. But, baseball is a game, like golf, that is much easier to appreciate when it is played badly. Or, in my case, is better played back in my head. Remembering the joy of throwing pop-ups and imagining the crowd going wild when I caught the last out of the last game of the World Series. "Cubs win, Cubs win, Cubs win!!"
As a kid, I played Little League and when I was approaching 13, even forsook my Bar Mitzvah to play it with the Baptist church team. I liked having a spiffy uniform and looking the part of a baseball player, but I was a terrible ball player. I knew it. The team knew it. But it didn't matter, Little League used to be a very democratic sport. This means if you were terrible, you played late innings in positions where you'd likely inflict the least damage. But you got to play the game.
Like a lot of suburban Chicago kids, my team was, is, and somehow will always be the Chicago Cubs. I went to a few games, but followed it on radio and TV on WGN. Harry Carey was our drunk uncle who made the game feel close by. When we lived other places, I would still check the box scores and see how my Cubbies were doing. I could tell you the players stats until about 1997. Since then, I occasionally look at the box score or look at the standings just to have a general sense of how things are going.
Generally, I don't get excited about baseball anymore. Several years past, I played in a couple adult softball leagues, but found it was nonsensical to play against people who continued to have blood-lust in their eyes about winning the game. Being able to go to work the next day was a primary objective in my gameday strategy. "Have fun, don't pull a muscle," was my mantra.
Nowadays, despite the Cubs finally winning a World Series, I have no time for baseball in my life. I finally gave away my baseball mitt a couple of years ago. My family took my Dad to Wrigley Field on his 75th birthday and we enjoyed watching the Cubs and the Twins run around in the friendly confines. Mostly, we just enjoyed each other's company.
One of the things about baseball that it doesn't get enough credit about is how much like a family it is. Your teammates are your family for the duration of the season and off the field too. You try to live up to the family/team expectations. Sometimes you win, sometimes not. But you are still part of the team. I always wondered what would happen if the Major Leagues were like Little League and you had to make due with whoever showed up everyday, how much better the game might be. Just like a family.
For the record, I think that baseball is better if it is played by amateurs. I think that gifted athletes are beautiful to watch doing anything. But, baseball is a game, like golf, that is much easier to appreciate when it is played badly. Or, in my case, is better played back in my head. Remembering the joy of throwing pop-ups and imagining the crowd going wild when I caught the last out of the last game of the World Series. "Cubs win, Cubs win, Cubs win!!"
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