Every year our divine hostess AR invites me to chime in on the Intramuralist and give my two cents worth around this time. And I heartily agree. This year, however, I find myself not so au currant on anything current. Like, at all.
I have found myself simply burned out on all the news of the day. The tantrums, the spin, the gotcha journalism. The celebrities who seem to make bad choices, or are famous for only being famous, the refusal to accept that the other side of any debate may have an actual belief as strong as yours for saying what they say, and doing what they do — imagine that! So, I have checked out as of late. I peruse the headlines; make sure I am not missing anything too important. And then, I simply move on to the demands of my real life.
So, as I sat down to write this, I racked my brain about what I could contribute this time around? I have spent my entire summer crafting my next book — fiction so no reality to write about there. And at the baseball diamond, watching the Ames High sophomores battle through a tough schedule and season that has seen as many downs as ups, while we parents line the bleachers and cheer our hearts out.
Any parent of an athlete will tell you, when your son or daughter plays sports, your entire life is taken up by their schedule. You make friends with the other parents, akin to how it must feel to be set afloat on a lifeboat from an enormous ship. Before the season, you might know their names, their faces, who their child is. But after? After you are bound together by hours of hot sweaty, delirious passion for each other’s kids, for the team, and also for each other.
And it got me thinking, this group of adults, all from different backgrounds, races, education, some married some not, some born and raised in our town some, like me transplants still trying to feel at home. But yet, all of us have come together this summer, clocking hours at a time side by side in those bleachers.
I have no idea what religion or political party any of them subscribe to or believe in, no idea what channel they get their news from. I know each of them is a dedicated parent, a lover of baseball. And, that’s enough. Wouldn’t it be amazing if the rest of society could function like that? The advent of Facebook and Linked In and Twitter makes it oh so easy to learn everything you might want to know about someone without even meeting them. You can pre-judge anyone you want with just a few clicks through their profile page. They “like” Fox news? Must be a close-minded conservative. They “like” the Clinton Global Initiative” Must be a bleeding heart liberal with no concept of hard work. Catholic? Pedophile! Muslim? Terrorist! Agnostic? Heathen! Watcher of Honeybooboo? Idiot!
Whatever happened to just getting to know people, live and in person? Imagine the level of understanding we all might have for one another if we actually got to know people personally, their personalities, and hearts, before we made assumptions about their belief systems. I’d like to think we’d become a much less fractured country than we are. What I have learned this summer about humanity is summed up much more accurately from the diamond than from anything I’ve read on line or seen on TV.
If there is a tent put up to block the sun in the bleachers all are welcome to sit under it, but you may have to hold the poles on a windy day.
If a player’s sibling is in line with you at the concession stand, you may have to loan them a dollar or two so they can get that extra popsicle or candy bar their parent said they could have only if they had enough money.
The same goes for the players themselves; any trip to the concession stand may find you buying an extra hot dog for a player who forgot his money, or an extra Gatorade for the red faced teen who has already gone through the ones he bought. On that bench they all are our children.
All bags of peanuts are community property. Bring enough to share. Same goes for tootsie pops.
If your son strikes out or misses an easy out, rest assured the parents around you will shout out encouragement to him, knowing those words are heard easier to his ears than that of his own parent sometimes.
If your son only goes in at the end when the score is lopsided for either team, expect his triumphs to be as heralded as that of the starting line-up.
Advil, ice packs, and cold towels are readily given to any player in need of them, regardless of what parent brought them.
Winning is exhilarating, losing is heart breaking. Every time. Period.
This season has shown our team some amazing lessons. We have won some tough games, and lost the same way. We have had injuries and illnesses and long stretches of games away from home. Our fans are loyal, and loud and for the most part happy to be there.
We have a boy who has battled back from cancer, and his parents, happy to be doing something as normal as sitting in the bleachers and not in an exam room. We have stars who shine brightly some nights, and fall short others. We have the head down workers, whose steady contributions may go unheralded but for a brief cheer from the crowd. We have kids whose time on the field is little, but whose support from the bench loud and proud. But they are a team, they lift each other up, pat each other on the back. Win or lose, it has been a joy to watch them come together as a true team.
We are our own mini society. We have our book keeper, our nurse, our head cheerleader, our statistical expert, our field expert. And someone to fill whatever blanks we may need along the way. It has not been a perfect season, far from it. But it has been a fulfilling season that is for certain. And I will miss going to those bleachers three times a week. I’ll miss the laughs, the support, and the wild cheering with abandon. But mostly, I’ll miss the people.
I may not know who any of them voted for, how they feel about gun rights, or gay rights, or separation of church and state. But I know, if my son drops an easy fly ball, everyone of them would yell, “Shake it off, you’ll get it next time.” I know their hearts, and maybe because of that, even if their beliefs are different than mine, I know that belief comes from somewhere good. And maybe that’s how we go about finding common ground in America today. Maybe it isn’t about sorting people by Blue or Red or whatever else divides on the surface; maybe what’s underneath is much more important. Discovering who people are by what they do for each other, not just because of what pew they sit in or who they back in the next election.
As I said, I learned everything I need to know about the current state of the world this year, at the baseball diamond. And you know what, I have more faith in our future now than I did at the beginning of the season.
Respectfully,
Jules
