Why I Love Baseball – River Avenue Blues (blog)

Hit lots of these today, please. (AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)
(AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)

The most important question we can every ask is, simply, ‘why?’ When it comes to asking others, we’re usually pretty good at it. But, oftentimes, we fall short when it comes to asking ourselves that same question. That’s not to say we don’t self-examine about important things; however, how often do we really question why we love the leisure time activities we do? And when we do, the answers are usually pretty quick and with good reason; we’re resolute in our enjoyment of certain things and they’ve become second nature. This week, as the World Series ended, I found myself asking myself, “Why do I love baseball?” The question wasn’t meant to be an accusatory one; I’m not finding fault with myself or even the game–though I’m sure you could join me in some nitpicking about that. Rather, the question was meant as a reminder after a great Game 7 and a highly entertaining and enjoyable World Series.


The biggest reason I love baseball–and I’m sure this is the case for many of you–is that of the connection it facilitates between people. From my father and grandfather to my wife and (hopefully) my son, baseball has been a common link between all of us. Whether it was going to games with my dad (and mom and sister) or him watching me play or me going to his softball games or, eventually, us playing together a few times, the ball game has always been a strong link between us. When his father died in July of 2006, I dove into baseball as a coping mechanism and it led me to the intense love of the game that led me to writing. That writing led me to Twitter, where my wife and I first interacted and bonded over a love of baseball and the Yankees, and now five years later, we have a son whom we’ll do the best we can to raise in the “Yankees Only” lifestyle.

People are the most important things in our lives and the connections we have with them are at the base of that importance. For many people in my life, that connection is rooted in baseball. Even the game itself, not dictated by a clock or the passing of a clock, but the overlapping and transition of innings is about connection over time that so many of us find with the game from those that came before us and those that we will share the game with in the years to come.

As the years pass on, the connections I have to the game will remain based in the people around me, though in some sort of mirrored cycle in which I become my father and grandfather to my son (and any other kids we’re lucky enough to have) and eventual grandchildren. The connection, the cycle, will hopefully be unbroken because, dammit, I love baseball.


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