Root for the home team.
Baseball is a rite of spring in this country. Unlike other professional sports (which I also enjoy), the cadence of baseball invites us to slow down, lean in, and anticipate the next play. The pitcher is working to force a groundball that could turn into a double play. The batter shifts his stance, aiming to knock one over the fence and send a couple of runners home. You hear the crack of the bat and, in that instant, you can read the play before the slow-motion replay confirms it.
That said, I’m looking forward to getting out to the ballpark this spring to experience baseball IRL, as God intended. Sure, the camera angles and commentary on TV are solid, but for me, nothing compares to being there in person. I love going to games. I crave the visceral experience, the roar of the crowd, the bucket-brigade ritual of passing hot dogs and foamy beer cups down the row. It fully engages all five senses and invites us into a community of believers that is bigger than ourselves. Everything feels more immediate. Somehow, if only for a few innings, it feels meaningful.
I’ll be at Oracle Park on April 9, cheering on the Giants as they take on the Reds. Just thinking about that first pitch gives me a lift. Baseball has a way of pulling us back into rhythm with the season, with each other, and with something bigger than the daily grind.
A recent study reports that many adults admit to feelings of isolation and loneliness. I get it. I’m a shameless extrovert, but with all the political chaos swirling around, I’ve found myself pulling back from the casual interactions I used to enjoy. I suppose I’ve grown more wary? Fortunately, there’s still a simple way to reconnect with humanity through a fundamentally shared experience. Maybe it’s NBA action, maybe it’s your kid’s Little League game. But as the old song implies, win or lose, there’s a certain joy that comes with joining like-minded fans in rooting for the home team. For me, that’s the point.
Play ball!