For some, baseball is a spiritual experience. If you remember Game 4 of the 2004 playoffs between the Yankees and the Redsox, you may remember pictures of Redsox fans in the stands clearly praying, especially in the bottom of the 9th with Dave Roberts on first base. You could almost hear their prayers: “I know he’s going to try to steal second base, Lord. Please PLEASE help him!” And there were plenty of Amens when Dave did indeed steal second, opening the way to eventual Redsox triumph.
There is even a book titled Baseball As A Road to God in which the authors find parallels between baseball and the spiritual journey.
I have been a baseball fan for most of my life. When I was a boy, I rooted for the Braves. I was especially a fan of Red Schoendienst but more on him later. In 1960 I also rooted for the Pirates, especially hoping that they would defeat the hated Yankees. I still replay Bill Mazeroski’s Series-winning homerun.
I drifted away from baseball for a while but still took note of great events ranging from the Miracle Mets to the death of Roberto Clemente. Then in 1983 I got into recovery from addiction and baseball played an unexpected role.
About being sober for a year, I was very grateful that alcohol was no longer a daily ritual. But my life felt tepid. Some loved ones have the gift of enthusiasm, a gift I lack. And so I realized that what was missing in my life was enthusiasm. In recovery circles there is a phrase “Fake it ‘til you make it.” I took that to heart. “I’ll fake being enthused” I thought. “But enthused about what?” I had just been in a production of the play On Golden Pond. At one point the main character bemoans the fate of his beloved Detroit Tigers. “That’s it” I thought. “I’ll be enthused about baseball!”
But you can’t just be a fan of baseball. You have to root for a specific team. I knew it couldn’t be the Yankees nor was I drawn to either of the Pennsylvania teams. Then it came to me. When I was a boy I was a joyful recipient of an autographed baseball card of the Redsox’s Jimmy Piersall. My hometown of Scranton had a baseball farm team for the Redsox. And my Uncle Joe ad been an avid fan. So the Redsox it was. I bought a hat and began to read the sports page every evening, cursing if the Redsox lost, cheering if they won.
Addiction recovery has a spiritual component to it and so my experiment with enthusiasm turned out to be spiritual. The word enthusiasm, after all, comes from the Greek and means “To be inspired or impressed by a god” or in my case –God.
The exercise worked! My love of baseball became a part of my life, my wife’s life, my children’s lives and ultimately my Grandchildren’s’ lives. And I benefited spiritually by learning the spiritual path of enthusiasm.
It was my love of baseball that brought me to Cooperstown to visit the sacred center for any baseball fan – the Baseball Hall of Fame. I travelled there while visiting with my parents. My mother was initially not going to go but then I told her “Mom, Red Schoendienst was voted into the Hall this year.” She changed her mind.
In the late 50s Red was playing for the Braves. He missed much of one season because of battling tuberculosis. One night my mother and I were watching the Braves playing the Phillies. This game marked Red’s return to baseball, a fact that greatly impressed my mother. When she stood in front of Red’s plaque she said simply but with great affection “Good for Red!”
It turns out my mother had remained a bit of a baseball fan. At one point I found her reading some of Nolan Ryan’s statistics. I was surprised since Nolan came along much later than Red. “You know Nolan Ryan?” I said. She looked over her glasses at me with a hint of irritation and said “Of course I know who Nolan Ryan is!”
We had gone to Cooperstown in September when it would not be crowded. We had dinner then returned for a last visit to the Hall. There were only a handful of people there. Can you imagine? It felt like we had the Hall all to ourselves!
Years late, as my mother was on her death bed, I read an earlier version of this story to her. She smiled and said, “To think that I almost didn’t go on that trip!”
The next morning I took a run on the outskirts of Cooperstown. It was the kind of crisp September morning that brought memories of piles of leaves for jumping, the smell of burning leaves, and of course the World Series.
As I ran, my mind was filled with baseball memories. Running home from school in time to see Maz’s homer. Going to Yankee Stadium to see my beloved Jimmy Piersall play and getting to witness Roger Maris hit #56 in his quest for 61. Taking each of my children to their first Major League games. But I also thought of Red. You see, I suffer from asthma. Two years previous to this run, it had almost killed me. So I knew what it was like to struggle for breathing, just as Red did when he battled TB.
As I ran, I enjoyed the easy flow of air in my lungs. I imagined that Red too would have celebrated that awareness. For those of us who have struggled to breathe never again take it for granted. I believe Red and I were connected, knowing the joy of something as simple as breathing.
Reflection: How have you experienced the spiritual gift of enthusiasm?
