In light of the Cardinal’s race to clinch the division title, I want to explore why we are fans.
Let’s talk first about normal life. I am generally a very rational person. I make calculated decisions about most things in my life, from what I eat, to what I watch on TV, to how I spend my time and who I spend it with, to what church I attend, to where I serve, to where I give/spend my money, etc. Each of these decisions comes with planning, pro/con lists, second opinions, prayer, etc. And each of them, with a few exceptions, is reversible should it not work out the way I had hoped.
Being a Cardinal fan is the one thing in my life that supersedes rationality. It is based on pure emotions, requires no planning or trying or pro/con lists, and is most definitely NOT reversible. This passion for this team has caused me to do some very irrational things. The worst of which was convincing my MBA professor to allow me to take my midterm early because I had tickets to a playoff game on the night I was supposed to take it (he did!). I’ve also skipped multiple classes and driven two hours by myself at odd hours of the night to be able to go to games. I’ve stood by myself in my apartment on one foot holding a cup in the air (it worked!) I’ve brought my cell phone with me into important meetings to keep tabs on the score of daytime games. I’ve gone tongue-tied when meeting players. All this, plus the spending of untold amounts of money on tickets and merchandise.
When you stop think about it, none of this really makes sense. I will scream my throat raw at a game. I will sit dead silent nervously gripping the edge of my seat waiting for them to get a final out. When they lose, a pit settles in my stomach that I can’t shake for hours. All of these emotions spent for this team, these people, that I don’t really even know. Who, quite honestly, don’t know I exist; they wouldn’t know the difference if I didn’t scream or didn’t get upset or wasn’t exhilarated when they make that big play. It is such a one-way investment. But, yet, I’m ok with that.
What is it about being a baseball fan? I have a few theories about being a fan. While I don’t know anything other than being a baseball fan, I would assume these could apply to most sports.
1. Comradery. To be a fan is to be part of something bigger. To know that other people are excited, nervous, scared, or angry right along with you. Whether you are at the game and seeing and hearing other people cheer, or you are alone watching it on TV, you know with certainty that others are right there along with you. There is something strangely satisfying about watching a wave go around the stadium two or three times. Knowing that everyone contributed to making one thing happen. Maybe we each think that, just like the wave, all of us together can make our team win and accomplish the goal. And maybe we can.
2. Hope. The reason that the start of The Season is my favorite day of the year is that it offers fresh hope for the months to come. Regardless of last year, this year, anything can happen. This is true for each series, each game, and each inning. If the Cardinals are down by 1 in the bottom of the ninth with a man on, and the unlikely 8th place hitter steps to the plate, everyone holds their breath in hope. Hey, it’s baseball: Anything can happen! And some games, some moments, you remember forever. So you go into watching each game with the hope that THIS will be THE GAME that will live in your memory forever. No matter what else is going on in your life, being a Cardinal fan offers you the opportunity to hope in something and people cling to that.
3. Consistency. Similarly, people cling to the consistency of the game. I know that the season starts at the beginning of April and continues on until the end of September (or October!) year after year. I know that most nights, there will be a game to watch on television. I know that they will play their best, fans will cheer, they will win or they will lose. A trade will inevitably be made right before the deadline. Players will be signed at the end of the season. Some will be let go. Some will win awards. Above all that, though, the Cardinals are THERE. No matter what else is going on in my life, I know that I can depend on them being there. And it’s a consistency that knows no age. They were there when I was 4 and watching John Tudor and Ozzie play in a World Series. They were there when I was 25 and watching Yadi and Albert win the World Series.
4. Bonding. Baseball offers a framework for a relationship as well as a chance to instantly bond with strangers. Many times, a key element of a relationship is talking baseball. I’m sure there are family relationships (e.g. father/son) that are primarily based on talking baseball and going to games. Going to or watching a game offers a chance for two people to sit down, be interested in something together, and have conversation. Even if that is the only thing they ever do together, it’s the framework of a relationship. Even my brother and I have always had a relationship that I think starts with baseball. We were both fans from a very young age and, even when we had nothing else in common, we always had that. Even now, we spend most of our time together going to Cardinal games each summer. It’s the consistent way we spend time together and I always look forward to it. I think that somehow my love for baseball is tied into my relationship with him. I don’t know that I’d have one without the other.
Baseball has also offered me opportunities to have great conversations with total strangers. People sitting next to you at a game, for example, are automatically your friends (as long as they are rooting for your team!) Being a Cardinal fan has helped me make friends at work. When you are all “secretly” watching daytime game scores on mlb.com, an instant bond is formed. Baseball is a great ice breaker and I don’t hesitate to use it as a catalyst to talk to people! There is just an instant bond formed when you know that someone has the same unexplainable passions as you.
5. Emotional connection. This is the one that is hardest to explain. Why do these players and watching this game give such emotional highs and lows? I guess maybe it’s unexplainable. I know, along with all the reasons listed above, I have so many memories tied to this game. And tradition. And superstitions. Feelings that the world and my happiness hinge on this series, this game, this inning, this at bat, or this pitch.
6. Innate. Pastor Darrin says that we are wired to have something outside ourselves at the center of ourselves. God created us to worship Him, so it makes sense that we desire to worship something. For many people, the teams and the players are larger than life and can be and are a substitute for worship whether or not we realize it.
Some of my most favorite memories have been in intertwined with the Cardinals. Laying late nights watching West Coast games on TV with my brother. (In particular, watching Tatis hit two grand slams off the same pitcher in the same inning and screaming so loud that we woke our parents up and they came rushing downstairs thinking we’d been hurt.) Getting up at 4 am to go stand in line for playoff tickets in 2002. Crying when Ozzie Smith gave his “Yellow Brick Road” speech when he retired—I cut it out of the paper and still have it to this day. Celebrating with Mark McGwire when he hit his #62 and #500 (and a lot of other #s). Sitting on the parking lot across from the stadium watching the All Star game on TV. Meeting Chris Carpenter down at Spring Training in FL. Celebrating with my coworkers when someone gets a hit when we are all secretly watching the box score on the internet while working. Arriving two and a half hours early to playoff games to get a good standing-room-only spot. Talking for hours to random people sitting next to you and celebrating with them. My dad taking me to my first Cardinal game and buying me a pennant. Going on a first date and watching the Cardinals clinch the Division Title. Participating in the YA-MO chant at the NLDS 2006 (thereby giving my cat his name). Going crazy when Albert hit that home run in 2005, bringing the Cardinals back to St. Louis in the NLCS. Labor Day 1996 when Ozzie hit his final home run (and I was on the big screen doing the Macarena!...also, JD Drew’s first appearance with the team). Watching the game where Mark Whiten hit 4 home runs in the second game of a double header against the Reds in 1993. Singing the “Tony LaRussia” song (also to the tune of the Macarena) in Pre Algebra class in 8th grade (1996). Listening for hours at night to Mike Shannon and Jack Buck on the radio long after my parents thought I was sleeping and routinely falling asleep with headphones in my ears. And on and on and on.
The thing about baseball, as with most things in this world, is that it always leaves you wanting more. I remember hoping and wishing and waiting for the Cardinals to make it to the Series. That happened in 2004. But then I wanted them to WIN the World Series. And so it was in 2006. It was an absolutely incredible feeling. For a few days. But even after an hour or so, I remember feeling a little weird. Like, wondering what was next. When you just got everything you’ve always wanted, I guess it’s hard to know what to think. It’s still a great feeling, but, now I want it again, of course. Go Cards!!
While baseball is absolutely fantastic and I love it dearly, I can’t imagine having it be my only hope in this world. I am so grateful that I serve a God that provides me everything from 1-6 above and so much more. With Him, I am never left wanting more or wondering what is next. He is the Be All End All. Baseball is a pretty great second, though :).
This is a game to be savored, not gulped. There's time to discuss everything between pitches or between innings. ~Bill Veeck
Baseball is an allegorical play about America, a poetic, complex, and subtle play of courage, fear, good luck, mistakes, patience about fate, and sober self-esteem. ~Saul Steinberg
Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can't get you off. ~Bill Veeck
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. ~A. Bartlett Giamatti, "The Green Fields of the Mind," Yale Alumni Magazine, November 1977
May 5, 2010
A Cardinal Souvenir: Marty Marion Dirt
This past Saturday was one of mine and Tim's seven annual Cardinal dates, aka our Pujols pack. I love that we do it every year because no matter how busy our summers get, we have seven guaranteed times we get to see each other.
Another thing I really like about Pujols packs is all the seats are sold for the same seven games for the summer. This means that the people sitting next to you will be sitting next to you all seven games. I really enjoy talking with them and making them my summer Cardinal friends.
This weekend was one of my favorite conversations I've ever had in Busch Stadium. I sat next to a woman named Betty. She was 70-something (maybe even 80-something--I'm not a great judge). She started out the conversation by saying it was her third game this week and she felt selfish. I told her if she got the opportunity she should certainly take advantage of it.
She went on to talk about different Cardinal games she had been to over the years. She talked about a group of girl friends that used to go often, but how that group had dwindled as her friends or their husbands had become sick and they could no longer make it down to the ballpark. She talked about her 23 grandchildren and how for years she had bought them all Opening Day tickets and they would go together, but how when her husband died and she retired, she couldn't afford to do that anymore. I could tell it bothered her.
I was facinated with this sharp woman who had been a Cardinal fan all her life. I couldn't help but start asking her questions.
"Do you remember Stan Musial?"
She did. She went on and on about how much fun it was to watch him play and told a story about her grandkids meeting his grandkids.
"Who is your favorite player of all time?"
"Stan the Man," she said wistfully.
"Who is your favorite player now?"
"Yadier Molina." Good choice, Betty.
"Have you ever met a Cardinal player?"
She hadn't really. She said she would stand with her kids and grandkids outside the stadium and wait for autographs and get them, but never had she interacted with a player. If anyone deserves to, it's this woman.
My favorite: "What is your favorite Cardinal game you've been to?"
She immediately launched into a story about when she was nine years old. She was living in North City and her dad took all the kids out of school to go to a Cardinal game, like they did every year. Her mom had made everyone a sandwich and put it in a wax paper bag. As she was finishing her sandwich, he dad leaned over to her and whispered for her to save her bag. So she did. After the game, her and her dad went onto the field (it was allowed back then). He dad led her over to the area between 2nd and 3rd bases and told her to scoop up some dirt and put it in her bag. He told her that she now had dirt that Marty Marion had played on. She said she kept that bag of dirt in her underwear drawer until she got married. She didn't want her husband seeing a bag of dirt, she she got rid of it. And she regrets it.
I finished with: "Why are you a Cardinal fan?" She said it takes the stress of life away. It puts you in an alternate reality.
I agree. An alternate reality where a bag of dirt, some pieces of tissue paper (confetti from McGwire's 62nd home run), and a dish towel (rally rag from a World Series game) are priceless treasures.
