Baseball Got You Stressed? Remember Back To Your First Game
Today, one of our authors shares some perspective on how to capture the magic of the great game of baseball in the midst of the noise surrounding the game.
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Pregame Pepper - A Monday Dose Of Baseball Zen
Leading Off
The First Game
By W.H. Johnson
There is an enormous amount of baseball-related information in the world. Every day, often multiple times a day, an array of internet sites refresh their content with new stories, “hot” takes, sometimes clickbaity headlines, and arguments intended to keep us engaged and reading. This includes not just the larger sites like ESPN, MLB.com, Fangraphs, or Prospectus, but also a bevy of team-specific sites, gambl…err…daily fantasy sites, and a dizzying array of individual posts and observations from what seems to be a veritable galaxy of enthusiastic observers and erstwhile pundits, all approaching aspects of the sport from slightly different angles and perspectives, all seeking to add to the collective wisdom about this game we love so much.
On top of that relentless churn, there are ongoing changes and challenges to the pastime. Whether it be MLB absorbing as much of the game’s oxygen as it can – monetizing the sport while efficiently providing the athletic entertainment we crave – or adapting rules with the intent of managing how the product looks to the general public, the long-term, passionate fan occasionally feels like, and I’m paraphrasing Joe Sheehan’s recent words, the ‘game we have grown to love is running away from (us).’ At times it’s enough to call to mind one of Yogi’s great quotes: “The future ain’t what it used to be.” At times, it is deafening.
So much sturm und drang. Isn’t this supposed to be recreation, after all?
The stoic philosophers tell us that, when it comes to stuff we can’t control, all we can control is our feelings about that stuff. So here’s a simple life-hack suggestion (at least until the trade deadline approaches, when all attempts at sanity become null and void): if overwhelmed and angry, break glass and remind yourself that every game you watch, either in person or on the internet or radio or TV, is quite possibly someone’s first game ever. Join them for an inning. Try to look at the game for a bit through the eyes you used at your first game. For me, it has not only become a calming conduit to my baseball chakra but genuinely brings a smile and happy memories to mind. Forget, for a moment, your feelings about what is being done in baseball, and just enjoy the moment.
Everyone reading this piece, proven by the fact that you are reading this piece, skews a bit toward baseball zealotry. Some more than others, and for a host of reasons, but we are meeting in these lexical commons because we absolutely love Baseball (capital B). And as such, we all share a memory of the rite of the first game.
At the risk of dating myself, I was initiated on May 27, 1973, at Dodger Stadium. I was an 11-year-old who had just moved to Los Angeles from the hills of east Tennessee. Baseball there was delivered by occasional radio, some TV, and daily boxscores. Arriving at Chavez Ravine on a spring Sunday afternoon with the fabled LA sunshine warming us and the Sunday air clearer from the otherwise perpetual smog that would start pumping again with the beginning of the work week on Monday, I was awed. Many accounts of first games start with experiencing the expanse of emerald green grass, seeing the distance from home to the outfield wall, smelling the concessions, and listening to the drone of a thousand simultaneous conversations. Those were my observations as well. It was magical.
My sister brought a book to the game, but even she couldn’t ignore the spectacle playing out before us. The game was much better than I had a right to expect. My baseball cards came to life. Jerry Koosman and the Mets faced Don Sutton and the Dodgers. A Sutton sac fly drove in the first run, and catcher Joe Ferguson homered in the fifth off Koosman to give my Dodgers a 2-0 lead. That buffer preserved the game after Ken Boswell hit a solo shot for the Mets in the eighth. Koosman finished seven innings and gave up just those two runs before being relieved by Phil Hennigan, but Sutton went the distance, allowing only seven hits and one run during the 2-hour and 15-minute contest. With the exception of the actual time-of-game, I need no baseball-reference.com or retrospect to look up details. That game burned into my consciousness that day, and baseball has remained there (rent-free) ever since. I was hooked.
Again, each of us has some memory or impression of our first real game. Over time, as we learn more about the sport and the history and strategy, and devour as much of the aforementioned amplifying information as we desire, the game can get cluttered in our minds. Rule changes and work stoppages are endlessly discussed, with commentators challenging us to have an opinion, to care, and to choose sides. But that is all ‘stuff’ we can’t change. What we can do, what I try to do whenever I’m feeling a bit suffocated by the available information, is to return to that Sunday in 1973, fifty years ago next month, and see the game for what it is - a beautiful, glorious, spectacular struggle. And then, in that euphoria, I try to remember that it is likely that someone there, watching in person, is having their first-game moment, memories that may last – literally – forever. I celebrate with them. No matter what the powers-that-be try to do to, or for, the game, it is still baseball. It is still beautiful.
Namaste.
IBWAA member W.H. “Bill” Johnson has contributed to SABR’s Biography Project, written extensively on baseball history, and presented papers at related conferences. Bill and his wife Chris currently reside in Georgia. He can be contacted on Twitter: @BaseballStoic.
My first game.
https://powderbluenostalgia.substack.com/p/first-pitch