Baseball is more loyal than some people I know

Within the description area of my work IM, I list my priorities.  1. God, 2. Family, 3. Baseball.  My co-workers have joked with me that baseball should be moved to the #1 spot, having God shift to the #2 spot with my love of the game.  I am not great at statistics, but can tell you that I would rather be at a field than any place else in the world.  I am a contradiction with who makes me stop in my tracks (Lou Gehrig of the New York Yankees, in case you were wondering) verses who my teams are (Angels and Red Sox).  I have a deep reverence for those who came before...the variety of early gambling to negro league hypocrisy, the days where talent mattered more than the question of using a substance to help you perform. 

I told my friend Robbie today that I am always the happiest at a ball field.  It was in a wall posting on Facebook when I told him:

"I have decided that I am happiest when at a ball field...no joke...I could be in the worst mood, but put me in front of a green field, a bat, and a ball and all of a sudden I am a little kid being handed cotton candy in Disneyland!"

It is true, however.  This summer has been less than stellar.  I have been mending a broken heart, trying to determine what my day is now that my routine I once knew has been disrupted.  While the actual heart break occurred a few months back, it has been baseball that keeps me smiling.  There is something about watching the game that lets me know everything is going to be okay.  Win or lose, there is always a game tomorrow, another pitch to be made, another swing of the bat to hear crack, another commentary if watching on television that I will either like or dislike.  But it is always there for me.  

Baseball, while it is just a sport, has been more loyal than some of the people I know.  Definitely more loyal than the cause of my heartbreak, more loyal than some friends, more loyal than the sun shining in Phoenix in the summer...it has brought me from the depths of drudgery to among the living.  It has reminded me to always do my best, that even when things seem hopeless there is always that slim chance things will come out in a positive way. 

In a summer where I really wanted to stay under the covers, not let the world know my pain, and pretty much call in sick, baseball has been the saving grace.  This has been the best series personally for me, thus far.  I have attended amazing Spring Training games, attended Opening Day at Chase Field for the Diamondbacks, traveled to see my teams play in Anaheim against each other, witnessed more extra-inning games both on television and in person than ever before, watched a game from the Owner's Suite at Chase, saw Luis Gonzalez hit a home run in a softball game with the likes of Fred Lynn, Ernie Banks, Rollie Fingers, and Ricky Henderson, along with former teammates from the 2001 World Series team, Matt Williams and Mark Grace.  And tomorrow, I am lucky enough to attend the All-Star game.  All in all, baseball has been the reason for my smile, the reason I can engage in life due to the constant need to know the scores and standings. 

My baseball friends are some of the most loyal friends I have.  Regardless of the fact I happen to follow not just one team, but two, they are still there for me, congratulating me on the other team's win, as long as they are not playing against each other.  Then, let's face it, all bets are off.  We sit and talk about the bad calls, the terrible umpires, the other team's offense, our offense, our defense, what we are going to do about someone not hitting well, and how happy we are that another is out of his slump.  We have nicknames we call the players, we even nickname the other teams and their players.  And we do this out of pure love for something that never seems to let us down.  Yes, my teams may not be winning the pennant every year, but they are still out there, rain or shine, trying to do their best.

It reminds me of the scene from "Fever Pitch".  The characters are asking themselves why they even bother attending the games, following the team, putting themselves through the misery of another loss at the World Series...this was, of course, before 2004.  In fact, the movie had to be re-shot due to the boys winning the pennant that year.  

Troy: Why do we inflict this on ourselves?
Ben: Why? I'll tell you why, 'cause the Red Sox never let you down.
Troy: Huh?
Ben: That's right. I mean - why? Because they haven't won a World Series in a century or so? So what? They're here. Every April, they're here. At 1:05 or at 7:05, there is a game. And if it gets rained out, guess what? They make it up to you. Does anyone else in your life do that? The Red Sox don't get divorced. This is a real family. This is the family that's here for you.

I have never felt cheated or lied to from within the field walls of a stadium.  I have never had to walk away, feeling betrayed or dismayed.  I may be disappointed from a loss, but there is always that distant glimmer of hope that tomorrow will be better, and 9 times out of 10 it typically is.  I have never felt lonely while looking out at a field, regardless if it is pre-game, game, or post-game time.  Within those walls I feel safe.  Within those walls, I can be the person I am - sometimes loud and vivacious, and at other times pensive and in deep contemplation.  That green grass always offers promises, hopes, dreams, and above all, faith within something bigger than myself because it is a collective effort for victory.  It isn't just one person out there, trying to do their best, it is a group of people, everyone from the pitcher to the short stop, to the manager, to the dude passing out water or the fan who claps with joy that make up a victory.  I am never alone within that environment.  I am always surrounded by people who are there for a common goal - to enjoy a damn good game of baseball.