Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Walt Whitman in an 1889 conversation about baseball: It’s our game: that’s the chief fact in connection with it: America’s game: has the snap, go, fling, of the American atmosphere – belongs as much to our institutions, fits them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.

Thomas Wolfe in a 1938 letter thanking his host after attending the Baseball Writers Association of America: One reason I have always loved baseball so much is that it has been not merely “the great national game” but really a part of the whole weather of our lives, of the thing that is our own, of the whole fabric, the million memories of America. For example, in the memory of almost every one of us, is there anything that can evoke spring – the first fine days of April – better than the sound of the ball smacking into the pocket of the big mitt, the sound of the bat as it hits the horsehide: for me, at any rate, and I am being literal and not rhetorical – almost everything I know about spring is in it – the first leaf, the jonquil, the maple tree, the smell of grass upon your hands and knees, the coming into flower of April. And is there anything that can tell more about an American summer than, say, that smell of the wooden bleachers in a small-town baseball park, the resinous, sultry, and exciting smell of old dry wood.

The 2011 baseball season began this week. Spring is here, or near, and almost every day in the coming months we will have scores to watch and games to mark our days as those days lengthen into mid-summer then slowly shorten as darkness encroaches with autumn.
For a few years when I was a boy almost everything I knew about spring was associated with baseball. Bubble gum cards hit the stores, and we wondered what the new year’s cards would look like. In sixth grade some of us received permission from the teacher to bring our transistor radios to school on opening day, so we could catch the Twins game, during recess or other breaks. These were the days of the radios with the single ear phone. Opening day 1970 was very special. Brant Alyea, a newly-acquired outfielder, had four hits, including two home runs, and drove in seven runs as the Twins defeated the Chicago White Sox on April 7. Truth be told, I had to do a little research to insure the correct numbers here, but I remember Alyea and I remember he had a phenomenal day. Later that same season (September 7), Alyea had another seven RBI game. The Twins won their division for the last time, until 1987.
There were years when my appreciation for baseball waned. I would follow the Twins some, and catch the World Series when I could, but some of the magic was gone. Perhaps that is the way with all childhood passions. Adult thoughts and responsibilities take up residence in the mind and heart, as they should. Recent years have seen a return to me of a love for the game. I am not sure why, except that in a world that is often complex, violent, disappointing, a world where progress towards peace and well-being is often glacial, there is a place for a game that reminds me of boyhood hope and enthusiasm, that comes with the lengthening days of spring, that is not on a clock, and that keeps score by bringing runners home. It is good to have this game as a part of the weather of my life.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Along with a return of interest in baseball has come a return to reading about the game. For me if it is interesting it is worth reading about. Logging in time at airports this past month I read two recently published baseball books, both worth checking out. Jimmy Breslin’s Branch Rickey, is a delightfully written book about Rickey and his determination to bring an African-American into major league baseball. I am kind of proud to say he was a Methodist. John Thorn, Baseball in the Garden of Eden, tells the story of baseball’s earliest years in the United States. It is filled with fascinating detail and wonderfully rich characters. If you want to know what Helena Blavatsky has to do with early baseball, or the story behind the Spalding name on the baseball equipment you use, check this book out.