People love October. They even fiddled with the name for advertising purposes.
Some love it for football. Some love KVNE’s Fall Praise Share Fundraiser. I love all that too. But there’s one thing about October that especially makes me tingle inside.
Playoff baseball.
I don’t care who’s playing. I love it if the Reds or Rangers are in it, but usually, that’s not the case. Incidentally, it’s not the case for most teams. Getting in the postseason is a super special event for any team.
I just love the atmosphere. I love the high quality of play, the drama, and the thrill of victory. I’m not so much about the agony of defeat. There’s enough pain going around in the world. Let’s try to ignore the agony.
It goes way back. Baseball was a big deal in my hometown of Cincinnati. It was a big deal in my family. My brother was a great pitcher in high school. As a little kid my Mom dragged me to a thousand games. I grew up with it, I learned it, and I loved it.
I wasn’t anywhere near the playing level of big bro, but I so wanted to be part of a team. I do admit to some fear of fly balls getting hit to me in the outfield. There’s about six seconds of terror as you watch the ball sail in your direction. This is all happening in slow motion as you try to ascertain your bearings to get under it, and actually get your glove in position to catch it, and EVERYONE is watching.
Harder than it looks.
Sometimes I’d catch it, to the fervent cheers of the crowd. I’m a hero! But sometimes, much to everyone’s dismay, (except for the opposing team) I’d botch it. I’d misjudge it’s trajectory, or just flat out drop it. Despondency. Worst feeling I the world.
I’ll never forget one well-meaning assistant coach after one of my highly visible errors in right field. After the heart wrenching moan of the crowd comes his frustrated and passionate instruction. “YOU’VE GOT TO CATCH THE BALL!”
Oh, so THAT’S what I’ve been doing wrong. I’ve been under the wrong premonition all along. Good thing you were here to show me the error of my error. Perhaps you’d like to guide me in studies as well. (“YOU’VE GOT TO PASS THE TEST!”) Since wisdom was clearly oozing out of this guy.
My baseball career was relatively short, retiring at about 15. By then the pitches were coming in so fast I couldn’t even see them, much less hit them. And those dang pop flies were so high I lost interest by the time they came down.
But I still love the game. I love the strategy, the suspense, and the excitement of championship Fall baseball. I’ll be sure to scream at the screen in case they can hear me bellow with all my 60 years of experience and knowledge.
YOU’VE GOT TO CATCH THE BALL!