Bill Klem (The Father of Baseball Umpires): "Baseball is more than a game to me, it's a religion."When I was in Boston in 2004 during the iconic World Series run, the idea of "belief" was in the air, as was apparent from the two documentary titles that came out during that time about the Red Sox: STILL, WE BELIEVE and FAITH REWARDED. I figured there's no better time than now, in the spirit of Christmas, to use this as a topic to explore the religiosity of the baseball fan. Religion, in the context of the baseball fan, starts with the simple uncontrollability of wins and losses. It's a primitive estrangement that we can't control between the wins we want and the losses that we experience. This gap is quickly filled with fan-tasy and the natural inclination to "pray" for the success of our team in times that seem helpless. As a response to this disconnect, the fan feels torn between two choices: go all in or stay on the fringes. So we became die hard fans - fan-atics. In this vulnerable state in which we submit our emotions to the team, we begin to judge each other, publicly or privately, on our relative levels of fanaticism, and agree that only the best fans, who are dedicated enough, can fully experience the sweet taste of a win. Baseball, in these times, had a way of elevating players to the status of savior, helping us fanatics believe that our team would win, no matter what devil or curse may have a stranglehold on them. We then built statues for these idols that we worship. As a true fan, we must believe, under every circumstance, we must have faith and we will be rewarded - as the documentaries claim. But the faithfully dedicated began to experience problems. With the incoming of science and advances in reason and analytics, faith became more of a stretch. The outcome of games became less celestial and more empirically based. But deep down the fan could not agree that analytics alone determined the outcome of the game; that there was no spirit left in it. Real fans knew the game was too complex to claim it could be won if only it were played a certain way. So, instead of picking a side, fans began to view the plays and the games in the context of the season, where devastating losses today could actually be the catalyst the team needed to propel them to a successful season. They began to see glimmers of purpose in their suffering. In this context, faith became more of a pilgrimage, not an immediate destination. In a pilgrimage, people feel more free to experience and enjoy the gifts of today. But a pilgrimage has the unfortunate effect of judging, once again, those who aren't dedicated enough to the long-term, coining them fair-weather fans. As a response to this, the 'woke' fan emerged, who saw his enjoyment, not in the wins and losses of the team, but as simply an appreciation for being part of the event. This fan found that by eliminating his need for a particular outcome, he could love the team unconditionally, and enjoy the little things, like the smell of the ballpark, the excitement of others and the pleasure of company, without the need for a win. In a way, all teams blended into one, creating an environment for the fan to enjoy and not stress over, but to find himself at one with. In time, this posture was revealed to be simply a more elegant disguise for selfishly chasing wholeness, while at the same time dropping any sense of loyalty. Then one day, a fan realized that true bliss does not exist in wholeness but in rebelling against the idea of oneness all together. This fan, in his wisdom, awakened to the fact that wins and losses are the fundamental contradiction which creates the opportunity for us to root for one team over another in the first place. The contradiction creates the ability for the fan to emerge at all. He figured out that the contradiction itself - the possibility of loss - is what generates the fun of the game. Contradiction moved to the forefront as the fundamental thing, and as long as we can live in the contradiction together, that’s where the true fan finds salvation. There is, in a sense, no such thing as progress towards oneness, it’s an unfolding contradiction. Just as, when we dig deep, we find there is no true desire for a season of baseball to end all seasons. The fun is that, even if we win the World Series this year, we have the possibility of losing again next year. Whenever two or more of us are together in this contradiction in love, this is what brings spirit to the game. We still hate the losses, but we learn to live well in them, because we know that being a fan requires them, and only in the lack of a perfect team can we truly have communion together. We know that a team that always wins eliminates the possibility of having true fans, for a fan requires the contradiction of wins and losses to exist. This fan imagined a team that never lost and realized that the only way he could root for them would be to entertain the possibility of losing. True fandom is then being joined together by a shared loss - even if the loss hasn't been experienced yet. In this communion we radically accept each other in our shared fundamental brokenness, our fan-ness, and we find unconditional grace.
If you enjoyed this new meditation on the deeper meaning of the game, you’ll love THE ART OF WAR AND BASEBALL!! Check it out here: www.theartofwarandbaseball.com
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AuthorI will be posting more baseball meditations here over time. Archives
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