Baseball Revisited

Dear Friends and Readers,

Recently I thoroughly enjoyed watching a Detroit Tiger baseball game on television with my sister Pat. As we shared our love of baseball inherited from our father, we discussed strategy, bemoaned the fact that the Tigers are in last place in the Central Division and expressed hope that the Tigers could still make the playoffs. We cheered when the Tigers scored and lamented when they left the bases loaded.  This energizing experience with my sister reminds me of an article that I published in 1986 when I was serving as pastor of Corpus Christi University Parish. Reprinted here with a few changes, I hope my tongue-in-cheek humor will elicit a few chuckles and smiles and that my analysis of the relationship between excellence and discipline will prompt some serious reflection.    

Peace,

Fr. Jim Bacik

Baseball Revisited

True-believing sports fans really must initiate dialogue with the nonbelievers. The stakes are high – strained relationships, misunderstandings and even disappointments in marriages.

Some will say that we believers are fanatics incapable of dialogue and unappreciative of the views of others. We may be accused on being literal fundamentalists who think we have a monopoly on what is good, true and beautiful – or even gnostics who claim to have an esoteric knowledge which cannot be shared with others.

But true believing sports fans have an obligation to say something of how we experience our world: the things that move and excite us, the way we are affected by heroes, the depth of feeling involved in being a participant or spectator. We should do this, not for the purpose of converting others or making them feel guilty because they don’t share in this world, but to increase understanding and promote dialogue.

It is true that people have varying S.Q.s (Sport Quotients); but a poor rating here does not indicate bad will or defective character. If we simply share our experience in an open way, then maybe others with lower S.Q.s will be moved to tell us about similar experiences they have in other areas such as drama, music, ballet, politics, poetry or work

Let me start by describing a memorable moment from the world of baseball. I am sitting in the Corpus Christi parish common room watching the October 10, 1980 game between the Kansas City Royals and the New York Yankees for the American League Championship and the coveted right to play in the World Series. Late innings in a close game and I am interested, intrigued, fascinated and immersed.

Personal memories of my own playing days come back, stirring the bodily juices (the adrenaline is flowing, we say). Shared memories of watching and analyzing games in the past with my father are on the edge of my consciousness. The whole thing is familiar – a comfortable, gracious world – yet at the same time it is filled with the unique excitement of the unknown outcome. I am a spectator, but somehow, I am also participating. Freed from emotional constraints, I am touched in some mysterious way.

I turn to one of my colleagues who has recently come into the room and announce to her that it is a crucial part of the game and a classic moment is at hand: Geroge Brett, the best hitter in baseball during the season, is facing Goose Gossage, one of the best relief pitchers in the game. Kansas City is two runs down and has two men on base. I mention this to her because I like to share my exceptionally keen insights into baseball and because I want to alert her to the fact that I don’t want to talk about non-emergency parish business or anything else right now. Blessed with the virtue of prudence, she leaves me alone thinking “how strange it is for a theologian to be obsessed with a mere game.”

Gossage is throwing 97 miles an hour and his location has been good. Brett is swinging better than anyone has since Ted Williams hit over 400 back in 1941. He has studied carefully under the guidance of the guru of the science of hitting, Charlie Lau, a mediocre hitter during his own career, but a greatly respected batting coach now.

First pitch. Gossage fires his live fastball, but it is a bit too good (too much in the center of the plate). Brett, swinging with classic perfection, gets it on the sweet part of the bat and lofts it into the right field seats for a game and series – winning three-run homer. A classic moment indeed!

In an after-the-game interview, Brett watched the film of his home run. When he saw the swing, he uttered a spontaneous, ecstatic gasp: “Oh my God!” The fruit of all his study and practice – a picture-perfect swing with head steady, weight shifted forward, eyes on the ball, arms fully extended – was there operating in the most pressure-packed situation.

That brief moment of human perfection in a limited area called forth a spontaneous feeling for the divine. Brett then quickly, but more reflectively, added, “Thank you, Charlie Lau” – a recognition that he did not achieve this moment of excellence alone but owed much to his former batting coach.

The nonbeliever probably thinks these descriptions – and the enthusiastic reaction of sports fans in general – are overblown, out of proportion and inappropriate in a world filled with serious problems. I must grant that sports can get out of control, become an idol, crowd out genuine religion, function as an escape, promote destructive competition and foster greed. It is true that some people mistakenly want to make athletics into a religion, an all-encompassing, all-absorbing way of life. Yet there is a way to participate wholeheartedly in the world of sports which avoids the temptation of idolatry.

Play, as all things human, is potentially revelatory. It can help attune us to the abiding presence of the Gracious Mystery. Sports, when they keep from being an ultimate concern, can enrich our self-experience and call our attention to particular characteristics of the divine/human relationship. Only the believers know this truth firsthand and from the inside, but it is possible to communicate something of the experience to others.

When I watched Geroge Brett’s home-run swing, a sense of excitement and appreciation took me over. Perhaps I was recalling all my own efforts to master the art of hitting a baseball: prolonged study of the theory, uncounted hours refining my swing, the pure fun of taking batting practice, the sweet feel of getting a base hit in the game – and the crushing realization that I lacked the physical skills to ever be a good hitter.

One part of my delight in sports combines an appreciation of the excellence of good performance with a sense of the discipline needed to achieve such skill. Joe DiMaggio was one of my first heroes and I thrilled to the graceful way he covered center field. One of the reasons I liked Al Kaline so much was the classic way he performed – poised and balanced at the plate, coordinated and confident in the field. I can find quiet delight in watching the shortstop on the opposing team go into the hole, back hand the ball, plant the right foot and make a strong throw to first.

The attractive point in all this is that the body is under control as physical excellence is achieved, body and spirit are unified. Poetry in motion – we see spirit manifested in a responsive body. The knowledgeable fan applauds in appreciation.

We humans strive for excellence, long for a total integration, thirst for a wholeness that overcomes the splits and gaps that plague us. Mostly this drive is frustrated, but there are a few clues that fulfillment might be possible. The gracefulness of excellent performance in athletics provides such an intimation for the true believers.

Another lesson learned from sports has to do with self-discipline. It takes hard work to improve one’s skills. Those who have participated in sports recall both the joy and the drudgery of practice sessions. Competition gradually compels participants to accept the reality of both skills and deficiencies.

For some, no doubt, coming to grips with the lack of athletic ability is traumatic and potentially harmful. Care and prudence are needed here. On the other hand, many have learned from sports valuable lessons about the harshness of life, coping with defeat, accepting personal and group limitations and the discipline needed for improvement in any area of life.

For true believers, sports are mysteriously involving, and religious language seems appropriate for describing the experience.  For example, Christian sports fans can affirm belief in our Heavenly Father who calls all people to a disciplined quest for the perfection of holiness.