As I sat beside home plate last night, these words kept ringing through my head. I don't recall where I first heard them. Probably recited by George Plimpton in Ken Burn's 10 hour documentary on Baseball, but I can't be sure.
The wife and I had a bit of luck last night. A few weeks ago, our neighbor asked us to keep an eye on their house while they were out of town. In exchange, they gave us two baseball tickets to see the Arizona Diamondback play the New York Mets on 8/11/09. Seems that they have season tickets and weren't going to be in town to see the game.
So last night, the wife and I walked the mile to Central Ave in Phoenix, boarded the light rail, which took us directly to Chase Field in central Phoenix. It was nice, no traffic, no parking fees, just dropped us off at the front door. We had our first date at what was then 'BankOne Ballpark'. Economics changed the names, but the essence of the game and the team remains. Now, 4 years later, it was a chance to relive our first night out.
We had not been to Chase Field in about 2 years, as we wandered around trying find out seats, we quickly realized that these were not the 'cheap seats'. These were $200 a seat tickets that were 40 feet from home plate. We had a private restroom and waitresses that would come up and take our orders for hot dogs and beer. It was really sweet.
While taking in the sites and sounds that are Major League Baseball, drinking $9 beer and munching on a $5 hot dog, I pondered the American Dream. Despite the outrageous cost of it all (well over $450 if we had paid for everything ourselves), this whole scene summed up who we are. Over 24,000 people coming together to cheer and talk in the middle of the work week, to watch grown men play a game with precision and grace. This is all that is good about Americans, this is our culture.
It dawned on me that it is a precious thing. A community thing. A tie that binds diverse people together. The rituals that make us who we are from ethnic groups, to religions, to counties, to political parties. I wondered what some impoverished immigrant that knew nothing of baseball would think of the spectacle. To come from a place where there are no ties that bind people together. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
Back in 1910, sports writers thought so highly of baseball that they composed poems about it that have become part of our lexicon, our heritage. To be born into such a rich and vibrant enduring culture is not something to be taken for granted.
These are the saddest of possible words:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double –
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."
And last nights game? The Diamondback won, 6-2.
Love me some baseball posts!
ReplyDeleteAnd hey, fun fact: Didja know that Evers rhymes with cleavers, not severs? Although a cleaver will do a nice job when you need to sever something. Just sayin'.
And I've always wondered what a "gonfalon bubble" was. Turns out that it is an old Italian coat of arms banner or flag. So the Cubs stole the Giant's chance at a pennant or flag. Burst their bubble, so to speak.
ReplyDeleteVery well said. Though I must say, even in the most impoverished corners of the world, there are definitely ties that bind people together. They're very different in some ways, but when it comes to sports, there are huge similarities. The Tarahumaran people of Mexico, who live in abject poverty with dirt floors and little to eat but corn and beans, are known as the "running people" and their races are spectator sports. They involve kicking a wooden ball as they run, up and down the canyon trails. The races are very important to the people, and they identify themselves very much as a people through the races. Their own name for their people, the Raramuri, literally means "The Running People."
ReplyDeletei enjoyed the post a lot.
ReplyDeletewill have to read the poem over some more, it escapes me.
i can tell you though, i see you sitting there with your wife, thinking deep thoughts.
(btw-my heart goes out to her and her last teddy bear).
anyway-deep thoughts-this happens to me when I am out and about. connecting things, weaving the subterfuge of personal interactions together, looking at things in larger perspective.
Kind of like a sociologist.
GAAAH!!!
I am determined to strip myself of this habit. It's difficult though. It's like an automatic tick, thinking deep thoughts. Pondering and quantifying the wonder around me. It gets in my way.
Maybe this increases your joy though. But for me, not really.
BUT!! I am determined to enjoy life just that much more, to enjoy the glory of the game without the endless verbiage bouncing around in my head.
just you wait . . . . .
figures earl would be the first to post here..
ReplyDeleteif i dragonfly in deepest bolgaria flapped his wings over an old baseball, earl would be the first on the scene to inspect it.
Sounds like you had a great time and nice pictures! I'm impressed that anyone could watch a documentary about ANYTHING for ten hours!
ReplyDeleteThat must have been very romantic reliving your very first date.
ReplyDeletedrinking $9 beer:
Ever seen the price of a can of Coke in a hotel mini bar? Between $4-6.
P.S. Bruce, the first 2 comments by Earl. Is that THE Earl you sent me a comment about who has a crush on me? If it is he has yet to leave me a comment.
ReplyDeleteI too was to comment about the date part, not that much on the sports.. But as I scrolled down it appeared CP had managed to get ahead of me. Anyway, congratulations on the seats - it seems that fate was on your side.
ReplyDeleteHow romantic...and what a fun idea.
ReplyDeleteI'm not an impoverished immigrant but my knowledge of baseball is slight (it gets next to no coverage here) and I've only ever seen one major league baseball game in my life. It was a pretty mediocre game but I loved the atmosphere and the rituals. It worked for me.
ReplyDeleteMy husband played baseball all through college so it is a sport near and dear to us, but only when watched live. TV takes the "community" out of being a fan...so much better, such an experience, so much more enjoyable when viewed as part of a crowd of different socioeconomical peeps, all chanting and cheering as one. We witnessed this firsthand when we were living in Boston and had the priviledge of attending two games at Fenway; memories we hope our boys always treasure.
ReplyDelete