When we are born people start to make assumptions about who are going to be based on the actions we do at that time when we ourselves are too young to be conscious of what we are doing. Then we are questioned about who we aspire to be within the time we are able to speak, as our answers differ every single time or at least often enough. We are taken to places or through experiences in places that help us redefine who we want to be. Every since I was seven I knew I wanted to be a teacher until I was 15 when I started playing softball. No, I do not want to be a professional softball player although I wouldn’t mind it, I love playing. But playing softball helped me realize that there is more to life than just teaching and through that experience I found my love for writing.
Last week I went to a baseball game where I saw more than just baseball. Of course everyone was rooting for a team but me. I was excited that the Yankees won but it was the concept of the game that I love. The thrill of when a team has two outs and your feet are steady but ready as you lean on your team to provide that last out. Your heart beating, especially if bases are loaded because one bad throw, one bad catch could lead you to losing the game when it was supposed to be such an easy out. When a play is done and the umpire calls out you get that thrill of happiness to bat. When it is your turn the chants of the crowd disappear and your eyes are on the ball as the pitcher holds it in their hands and then releases it as you hope you hit it good enough to get on base, but all of these feelings are unknown unless you play the sport. For those watching, it is seen as how fast you can get to base or how accurately you can catch a ball or throw. They do not know of the minute anxiety attacks you obtain every single second of the game where you must be ready for anything and all that is going on. The game being so slow is what makes such a mental game, you start to think of possibilities of outs, then you over think them, and you miss a ball and your entire mood changes. You carry this toll that messes up your entire momentum.
But of course this is only known from me, a young girl who loves playing the sport.
The dad who takes his kid to a field every Sunday so that they could bond over their love for baseball. And that little kid, who smiles every time a play happens because he envisions himself in that position.
That single mother who tries to participate in baseball so that the child does not feel left out on something that her father and brother once experience.
That old person who missed his opportunity to do all he ever wanted because of a barrier in life he thought was too big to pass through and just stayed stagnate in that position.
See for those like me, baseball is more than a seat in front of a television or a seat in a stand where people are yelling at players for their mistakes. It is an art. One that those not require utensils, just passion. Being able to predict what’s going to happen no matter where the ball goes is a science. And determining where that ball is going to go based on the batters last hits is known as history. And you, you are the present, living in the moment thinking and over thinking these things.
Baseball represents the trophy for those who had had a hard life and finally found a place to use their talents and be good at it. It is a sport that takes all of you, physically, emotionally, and mentality and your passion for it allows you to allow it to do so. The most important thing is the high fives both teams give each other as they all say “Good game.” With those words all the issues and bickering that was in the game and on the field disappears, and all that is left on the field now is just the bases and a game that was once played.