This modern world is one of constant stimulation. Push notifications, cortisol-creating headlines, targeted ads, and a continuous barrage of some new show you “just have to watch.”
We have more work than ever and seemingly never enough time to do it. Buy, buy, buy. Sell, sell, sell.
At best, it’ll leave you on edge. At worst, it’ll drive you mad.
How do you break out of this vicious cycle?
I recommend grabbing a beer, a hot dog, and a ballgame.
Baseball might not be a panacea to the world’s ills, but it sure is an enticing escape.
Baseball can’t keep up with football’s fast-paced violence or basketball’s high-flying athleticism. It has failed to stay current with the times in this fast-paced, what-have-you-done-for-me-in-the-last-30-seconds society.
And that’s why we need it now more than ever.
A confession: This column was supposed to be about what the San Francisco Giants – the Bay Area’s only remaining big-league team — will do this season. What will “BusterBall” — the type of game the Giants will play under new director of baseball operations Buster Posey — look like?
The truth is that I don’t know. I guess they’ll probably look the same as last season. The Giants went to spring training wanting to play “good, crisp, fundamental” baseball. You know, like every other team. And while they played well in the spring, does it matter if you finish with the best record in games that don’t count? Probably not.
Here’s what I know:
The Giants will win 54 games, lose 54 games, and do one or the other in the other 54.
A bunch of pitchers will be used — some of whom will be awesome — and they’ll probably frustrate us by not coming through at the plate with runners in scoring position.
There will be stretches this season when we think the Giants are going to the playoffs, and there will be others when we hope the season ends as soon as possible.
We’ll experience some incredible highs from walk-off winners and ninth-inning strikeouts. There will also be the lowest lows you can imagine — long relievers just trying to muster the final 10 outs in a blowout loss on a cold Tuesday night.
But the most important aspect of baseball is the one we most take for granted—the one that makes it so gauche these days: It’ll be on, day after day, week after week, month after month. Starting Thursday in Cincinnati and ending 186 days later on a Sunday afternoon in late September, the Giants will squeeze in 162 games and, in principle, 1,458 innings.
Expand it to all of Major League Baseball, and from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. most days of the week, you’ll have guys throwing a ball really fast towards men with sticks in their hands who can hit it very far.
Of course, this baseball season will, sadly, come with the harsh reality that the Bay Area’s other big-league team, the A’s, is truly gone. If you have decided to swear off baseball following John Fisher’s cowardly exit from the East Bay, that decision is as justified as Fisher’s decision was unjustified.
Business (in this case, awful business) always seems to get in the way of pure things.
But still choose to view baseball as something pure.
It’s been suggested that a baseball season is a marathon, not a sprint. That’s wrong. It’s more of a leisurely walk. There’s no need to run here.
And after a full day of rods-and-cones bombardment, I can’t think of anything better than grabbing my paint-stained Panasonic RF-2400 radio (the one with one big speaker on the front), popping on a game, and working on a project in the shop, taking the toddler to the park, or sitting around a fire with a cold one after the kiddos go down.
Baseball is a sport made for hanging out with friends, in person. Its pacing demands you hold actual conversations. Its derided casualness is a feature, not a bug. (Something even MLB commissioner Rob Manfred doesn’t seem to understand.) .
All the while, baseball demands nothing from you. Not even your full attention, so long as you’re not staring at your phone.
Just pop in when you can, take a load off, and enjoy yourself as you see fit.
In a world of fake friends, the game of baseball is a real one. And I might be in the minority these days, but I’m so happy it’s back.
Source: Paradise Post
