Baseball begins again

This week has seen the opening of baseball season. And that always brings back fond memories. I never played baseball, but I loved to watch it, read about it, learn about it. Starting in 1982, I remember watching Montreal Expos games on CBC, blurry and snowy because of the antenna that brought the signal into the house. I remember Dad often having to move the antenna to get a better picture. There was only one game a week usually, so we treasured that time. I still have dozens of mid 1980s baseball cards, and I remember fondly the stars, and even the also-rans of those days.  My brother loved the Expos. My favourite team was the New York Yankees, which in the late 1980s was in its darkest period, firing managers every year. (Sports dysfunction seems to follow me, as I cheer for the NFL’s Washington Redskins!) We bought baseball books and guides to the upcoming year, read books on scouting reports and statistics. We learnt baseball history. It is still something my brother and I can share fond memories about.  Just bring up the name Doug Flynn or Tom Foley, and see that moment of recognition.

Later, in high school and university, I spent my summers umpiring different baseball leagues and levels. It was great to be out on the field, even in that challenging position. Umpiring was fun one moment, stressful the next, dreadful the one after that. I don’t think I was particularly great at it, but I wasn’t terrible either. And then there was the bizarre thrill of throwing someone out of a game. So many times I have wanted that skill to translate to life off the baseball field. For one summer I helped my brother-in-law coach a group of beginner kids in a mosquito house league, basically teaching some to hit and catch. It was rewarding to see the improvement in those kids. 

But my love for baseball waned in the mid-1990s. I don’t fully blame the work stoppage that cancelled the 1994 World Series. I remember watching excitedly as the Toronto Blue Jays won back to back Series victories in 1992-1993. (My Yankee fandom was over by then.) But as life grew busier, and I ventured off to seminary, my interests changed and baseball watching drifted to the bottom.

The last couple of years, however, have seen a steady growth in my interest in baseball. I don’t have a favourite team anymore, although my satellite provider means that I watch a lot of Toronto Blue Jay games. But baseball has changed in the 15-plus years since I watched it regularly. The broadcasts are too flashy, but then I find that true in other sports as well. Pitching changes happen a lot more frequently. The new advanced statistics are a lot of numbers and letters with no real meaning to me. And I am still learning who all the best players are. 

I am also remembering, though, what I loved about baseball growing up. The strategy. The slow pace that gives you time to think. The fact that success in hitting means failure 7 out of 10 times. And the rules are easy to explain, for the most part. Rookies still have trouble laying off good breaking balls, so if you want to hang around this league you better learn how. The deep sacrifice fly is still the most boring run-scoring play in sports. And best of all, you can never tell which game is going to be the slugfest or the pitchers’ duel.

I am glad I have re-discovered baseball. Now my summer nights may include a good book, a good scotch and any old ball game.