"[Baseball] breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall all alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops." A. Bartlett Giamatti, Take Time for Paradise: Americans and Their Games. Former Commissioner Giamatti got it right.
An admission first: Childhooddreams of playing second base in the major leagues linger far into my adult years. I love the game. And as I watched this year's World Series, I was struck by insights subtly delivered by leaping outfield catches and infielders' jogs to the mound to encourage their pitcher. Here's a philosophy sampler from this year's Fall Classic:
An umpire misses a close call and admits it: There is no instant replay in baseball or in life. And the ump assumes responsibility for his miscue and the players and manager move along and get back to the game: Speaks for itself!
The manager picks up the dugout phone and calls to the bullpen for a pitcher named Motte. First, a reliever named Rzepczynski trots in and allows a predictable hit and runs scored. Alas! Another call for Motte and a reliever named Lynn appears and walks the batter. Huh? At last Motte hears the call and, as originally hoped, puts a stopper's plug on the inning: Good communication is not easy. And: History fortunately repeats itself as you watch and listen here to Bud Abbott and Lou Costello hilariously debate: "Who's On First!"
The two teams in the Series, the Rangers and the Cardinals, were not assembled with the huge payrolls of some clubs: Money can buy talent but not team. Wearing blue and red hats, helmets, and socks to distinguish their teams, the players nonetheless hug and slap fives and tens, loving the game together: Any red and blue divide can be bridged by sportsmanship.
One Ranger star was traded twice in the same week earlier this season. Another wages a successful battle against addiction and returned to the Major Leagues against long odds: Never give up.
Ninety-one year old Stan Musial waves to an adoring, teary-eyed crowd as he's driven around the field for one last hurrah. In his prime Stan the Man turned down a raise at season's end because he didn't think he deserved it: Best to know what really matters, all along and after all.
Texas manager dances in the dugout and fans do his dance in the stands: Play more. Have fun. Laugh.
A batter hits three home runs in one game for only the third time in Series history and says afterwards: "Wow, what a game it was:" Be grateful for opportunity.
Blunders and brilliance mix as a thrilling Game Six is won by a Cardinal player who rooted from the stands for his home team as a little boy growing up in Wildwood, Missouri. Named the Series Most Valuable Player as the Cards win in seven games, thinking back on three years of ankle and hand injuries, he sums it up: "I'm full of joy:" Sometimes, dreams come true. I'll be ready for spring training. You never know.
