My First Love

Tonight, I went back to my first love.  We haven't had much of a relationship since she left me in 1994.  We used to spend time together every morning, and some afternoons and evenings.  When I was a young boy, I pretended to be sick so I could stay at home and spend time with my first love.  I'd spend countless hours in pursuit of everything about baseball, the sport that meant so much to me.  There are so many memories today.  The 1968 World Series, and Jim Northrup's grand slam home run in game 6.  Bobby Bond's first hit, a home run, in his first major league game.  Denny McClain, the last pitcher to win 30 games in a season. Hank Aaron, breaking Babe Ruth's career home run record.  The list goes on.  I loved to practice Juan Marichal's high kick, though I didn't learn until years later about what he did to John Roseboro in August of 1965.

I used to know the league leaders in batting average and ERA.  I knew who was in first, and who was in last.  I knew the names of many of the players on many of the teams.  I used to devour the sports section every morning.  I watched games on television, and even listened to them on the radio.  Even as life got more complex and busy, I kept up with the game.  It was, after all, my first love.  And then came 1994.  The game of baseball left me, and many others, in 1994 with a season ending strike.  Baseball was never the same for me.  Prior to 1994, life began in the late winter and spring with the exhibition season, and April meant it was time for baseball.  October was the World Series.  Baseball was a consistent part of life.  The strike of 1994 ended that.  The American pastime was not a certainty.  The game that I, and so many others, loved, was just another business that really didn't care about it's customers.

Tonight was the 7th game of the 2019 World Series.  It just seemed like time to go back to my first love.  I've actually been following the series, and have even watched parts of some of the games.  Incredibly, the first six games were won by the visiting team.  I don't think that this has ever happened.  I know that it's never happened for an entire seven game series.  Each game has been unique.  Each team has had games where they looked pedestrian, and games where they looked unbeatable.  Fortunately, tonight's game has been a nail biter.  Everything that I love about the game has been highlighted.  Watching the Astro's pitcher has been enjoyable in and of itself.  Not only was he pitching incredibly well, but his fielding prowess is unparalleled for the pitching position.  I love to watch excellence.  The National's pitcher, who a day earlier couldn't lift his arm due to a pinched nerve, gamely pitched well, with flashes of brilliance, but not to the level of his counterpart.

Yet, the beauty of baseball is such that, the game isn't over until it's over.  Through six innings, the Astro's looked to have the game in hand.  But, there's still three innings left.  Baseball can be a metaphor for life.  One should never give up.  And, just like that, a home run cuts a two run lead in half.  The National's, true to their style, are having fun, even though they're still behind.  It's great to see these adults having fun in a game that is meant to be fun.  After all, it's called a game.  It's supposed to bring joy to those who play it and those who watch it.  And, just like that, another home run, and the National's are winning!  That's baseball.  That's one of the things that has pulled me back into watching the game.  The result of tonight's game doesn't matter.  It isn't about winning and losing.  It's about the game.  And that's why I love it.