October Baseball: Exactly What I Need Right Now

 

Let’s take a break from the political firestorms and social injustices for a moment. Trust me, they will be there upon our return.

Instead, I want to talk about the sounds I heard reverberating from my television this week.

The rumbling of a crowd before the excitement begins.

An announcer’s voice echoing through the rafters.

An organ wistfully playing familiar songs.

Rakes against dirt.

Water falling on freshly cut grass.

A man walking up and down a set of stairs yelling, “Cold beer and hot peanuts!”

The rustle of players gliding over chalked lines to avoid superstition.

The PA system crackling to life as a young woman belts out the national anthem.

Then, the authoritative voice wearing blue shouts, “Play ball!”

That’s right, it’s October, and playoff baseball is ushering in the brilliance of fall.

I grew up playing baseball. As a kid in Little League, I absolutely loved the game. 

The cold drinks and snacks were terrific. But there was nothing more sacred than when my bat made perfect contact with a baseball, sending it through the air towards a gap in the outfield.

The camaraderie of teammates created the fondest memories as we played together at Lafortune Park in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The dugout was always filled with encouragement and laughter.

My Little League career led me to play baseball in college. I was fortunate to earn a college degree and play the game I love. 

I hold so many memories of practices and games played, but the best memories were sharing the diamond with my teammates and coaches.  I met so many incredible men who impacted and shaped my life.

Yet, despite all the success and joy I experienced playing baseball, one of my fondest memories came later in life, during one of the darkest moments the world has ever known.

The global COVID-19 pandemic shut down the world, sending my two sons home from college. They both had full loads and were working hard on their studies.

Both felt the added anxieties of remote learning, but it was my youngest who needed a break four to five times per day. Working in my office, I would get a text from him with the words every dad can appreciate: “Catch?”

At this request, we would grab our gloves and head outside. In the eerie silence of the pandemic, you could hear a father and son throwing a baseball back and forth. The sounds of a baseball slapping against a leather mitt will forever be embedded in my memory.

Having a catch with my son during one of the darkest moments in world history brought me immense joy just when I needed it the most. For me, this is what October baseball brings—a joy that lifts my spirits no matter if my beloved Boston Red Sox win or lose. It’s the game, and the sounds of the game, that fill my soul.

Baseball transcends all the world has to offer, helping me overcome a bad day or encouraging me with the successes of life. Baseball is the constant within my life that I need when the world goes dark.

When I was a senior in high school, my team, Union Redskins (don’t get me started) made it to the 1989 Oklahoma 5A State Championship game. We played the final game at the University of Oklahoma’s L.D. Mitchell Field against the Midwest City Bombers.  

My teammates and I were extremely nervous going into the championship game. The night before, our coaches took us to a movie to calm our nerves. The baseball gods were at work because a brand new film had just been released, “Field of Dreams.”

As our team watched Kevin Costner, Amy Madigan, Ray Liotta, Burt Lancaster and James Earl Jones explore the chaos of building a baseball field in the middle of an Iowa cornfield, the final moments of the movie transcended the screen to speak to our souls.

James Earl Jones, playing the character of Terence Mann, inspires the audience with one of the most outstanding commentaries on why baseball is so essential to the American psyche. With the bank about to foreclose on the farm, Mann makes a passionate appeal for why baseball speaks to the soul of America.

Mann, speaking to Coster’s character, Ray: 

The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time.This field, this game — it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again.

Baseball.

Little League fields across America.

Baseball.

American Legion games played on hot summer nights by high schoolers.

Baseball.

Negro Leagues, filled with some of the best players ever to play the game.

Baseball.

Indian Leagues, where my great-grandfather, Mitchell Boudinot, played the game he loved.

Baseball.

The game that broke the color barrier with Jackie Robinson starting for the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Baseball.

The game I love, the game that feeds my soul and sets my spirit ablaze.  

As temperatures cool and leaves turn, October will always usher in a time that is meaningful and special to me.  October is many things, but it’s playoff baseball for me.

Baseball.

When life seems overwhelming…when the news sends us to dark places…when politicians can’t come together for the common good…go out to the park…grab a cold beverage…settle in with some popcorn…and cheer on your favorite teams and players.  

Baseball.

Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Feller, The Heater from Van Meter, once quipped about the game he played: “Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is.”

Right on, Bob!

Now, let’s play ball!

*FYI: The Union Redskins were the 1989 Oklahoma 5A State Champions.