Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

Yesterday I had the priveledge of my first Cubbies game at Wrigley field. Now, we all probably know that I am not known for my expertise in the world of sports. In the last two years I have been trying to develop my sporting knowledge and interest. I'll say up front that it's a pretty daunting task. I mean, there are not only many sports to know about, but each sport has players, rules, and history. It really is a rather overwhelming endevour.

I am not exactly sure why I'm trying to develop my sporting interest. Perhaps it's because I realized I wasn't involved in about half of all conversations involving guys. Perhaps it is because I noticed that when guys were going to a sporting event I suddenly am not invited to participate (granted, Chorale did basically own my life in college...). Perhaps it's because I roomed with Kevin my senior year, who was not only on the football team, but also displayed a rather inspiring passion for the world of sports. Regardless, it is a quest of mine to learn a respectable amount about the major sports. It's a quest that will take years and years and there will be many more embarrassing questions, but I feel a little like Don Quixote and am ready for this quest...

As jazz is to music, baseball is to sports. It's American. I have been to a few baseball games before, but none of them compared to my day at Wrigley. Granted, it was snowing a little and we were numb by the end, but I loved every minute. As I looked over the field and into the stands, I felt like an American. And I liked it.

And as I sat there on that cold day, I realized something else entirely. Baseball is really quite beautiful. Baseball used to be my least favorite sport, but I actually think it's become my favorite in the last few years. (Well, besides skiing of course, but that's a little different.) What I like about baseball is that it's relaxed, and this is precisely what I didn't like while growing up. I thought it was boring. Nothing seemed to happen. I liked games with higher scores. You see, though, the relaxation is part of the beauty. There are moments of great tension and moments of great relaxation. Conflict and resolution, kinda like a 4-3 suspension before the cadence. I think of the other two main sports in America, basketball and football, and they're both so different. Almost constant chaos. Pockets and clusters of men running all over the place, running into each other, falling down. Not baseball. Baseball is the sport for the aestheticly inclined. The players are pretty spaced out, there is a meticulously manicured field, and in Wrigley's case, there is ivy, bleachers on top of the surrounding buildings, and a nice skyline off in the distance.

It helped tremendously that I had studied beforehand. (Really, this all does related to music. Loralee and I used to have "Opera Nights" where we would introduce friends to the world of opera. We always emphasized getting to know the plot, getting to know the characters, laughing. On a different note, I've realized I've been to more professional sporting events this year than classical music events. This really is something.) Kevin Welty was my teacher and he provided a good basis of Cubs information. Not only did he educate me on the current players, but I also learned a little Cubs history to bring out when I really wanted to impress people. (Who knew about Babe Ruth's "called shot" during the 1932 World Series? Ernie Banks is a Cubs legend, not just the name of Drew's dog. As for the Curse of the Goats, well, we all know I love goaties, so I won't say any more about that. And as a seminary student, did you know that Wrigley field is built on the site of a former seminary? Don't even get me started on the ivy.) It was good to know the players. I was delighted to know first-baseman Derrek (yes, two R's) Lee when he came out. Same with Corey Patterson and Greg Maddux, Ramirez and Zamrano. I was most looking forward to Nomar, but that stupid left-groin injury has him out for maybe three months. Unfortunately, I was also familiar with LeTroy Hawkins, the closer who can't close.

Perhaps my favorite moment of all was when all the fans, frigid and numb, stood during the seventh inning to a rousing rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Yes, it was my third-grade piano recital piece. (I also used it as my audition piece for Juilliard-trained Leon Harshenin and was saddened when he didn't take me into his studio. Instead, he gave me to Kathy Grile instead. Someday I'll tell you about Kathy and what she would say about my hands...) But back to third grade: I remember being very nervous. I had on a white suite (ALA Mark Twain) and a fancy tie. I played it through with moderate success and was relieved to be done. But then my piano teacher Emily Jahn told me to stay at the bench and she talked to the audience. (Oh, Ms. Jahn. I remember she was obsessed with the color green and always had a lot of cleevage showing during lessons that it made me awkward and I didn't know where to look. My brother Nathan can testify to these truths if you think I am making them up.) Well, she told the audience I was going to play the song again and that they were all to sing along. It was fun, espcially for this third-grade accompanist, but it wasn't exactly rousing. At Wrigley, it was rousing. It was inspired. It was fun and memorable and loud and full of passion. Where else will thousands of men break out into loud song? You see, it seems the Cubbies know quite a bit about community and know a bit about the beauty that a community can have. For one day...just a few hours...I was a part of something that drew me in. I loved it. I want to go back. The Cubbies didn't win yesterday (remember, I already mentioned the closer who can't seem to close), and I was kinda upset, but it didn't matter too much. I was a kid, full of wonder and awe and excitement. I was a fan. I am moving to Chicago in a month. Hopefully there will be many more days at Wrigley and just as much wonder and awe.