By Meredith Linden
Last season, I
was prompted to expand on my comment that I had an Astros Buddy as a
kid. The prompt followed my assertion that I am not a baseball
person, my impression of baseball people being those who follow the
game and teams and actually go to games on occasion. Upon receiving
this season’s opening Baseball Diary email from the Editor, a certain baseball
thought squiggled through my neurons at odd times, one in particular
being at the library a couple of weeks ago.
After finding the
specific book I had gone for, I scanned the shelves, always on the
lookout for another must-read. One jumped at me: A Short History
of the Long Ball, a novella by Justin Cronin. My first
thought: ugh, reading about baseball is about as dull as going to
the games. However, the ever-present errant thought zoomed to the
forefront of my brain. “I wonder why I do not like baseball.” I
took the book thinking it might just help me answer the question.
Even if I didn’t like the book, I might gain more insight into this
little issue of mine.
Cronin opens with a
ballgame between two friends but abandons the game for most of the
book. ‘Twas a true mirror of my life with baseball. Of course I
thought it was funny I was an Astros Buddies member at 9 years old. I
was linked to an Astros player, got a t-shirt and other memorabilia,
and got tickets to home games. I’m not sure if my induction into
the Astros buddies was to create something for me to do with my dad
or something I initiated. Although I cannot remember who my Astros
Buddy was (I always contended it was Willie Mays until I learned,
much later, he never played for the Astros), but I do remember being
excited to be a part of it, and I even enjoyed going to the games.
Several events in
my life have given me cause to like or not like baseball. At about
the time I was in the Astros Buddies, I remember wanting to play
softball. I walked home from friends’ houses through the park where
I’d see goings-on I wanted to experience, and considering the teams
I saw were girls, I thought it would make me cool. My mother told me
I could play softball if I was willing to give up piano lessons. I
made my choice. I did play softball in college as well as flag
football. I have to say there was more camaraderie in the softball
league, but I was better at football.
So, that was it for
me as far as baseball. I did my own sports, hung with non-baseball
fans, and created a life, much as Cronin’s main character did.
About nine years ago, I attended the only other baseball game in my
life, a River Cats game (does that count?). We sat on the lawn in the
Sacramento sun with small children. I understood why I didn’t
follow baseball. All around me people were buying food, talking,
running around on the lawn, not watching the game, watching the game
and clapping when appropriate, and asking other people what just
happened. The game requires great concentration but not because it’s
fast and hard to follow. If you blink, you might miss it.
Focusing on why I
feel I don’t like the game has opened up a new perspective on it.
Much like in Damn Yankees, baseball is often the backdrop for
life, an anchor for the people involved. When I thought about being
at a baseball game, I realized that proportionately speaking, very
little baseball is actually going on compared to the socializing and
general camaraderie. I can see how baseball could very much be about
more than just the game and that may be the draw for many.
I
recognized while writing this piece that just because I am
not a baseball person does not mean I don’t care about baseball. I do believe in the importance
of passing this game on to our future generations at least
here in America, as it is an American institution. I did teach my
children to play and my daughter played T-ball at 5. There’s
something in our DNA regarding baseball. We can embrace or ignore it.
But even ignoring it will eventually cause little fissures in our
thoughts because baseball is just too big.
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