Why Baseball?

I played baseball when I was a kid. (Well, technically softball, because I'm a girl, but aside from the ball being slightly larger and bright yellow, and our jerseys being a lot lousier quality than those for the boys' teams, I fail to see any difference). I played for nine years, which should surprise anyone who knows me, given my lack of athletic ability and basic coordination.

Ah yes, purple and orange. A classic colour combination.

But I loved the game. I loved it because unlike other sports, it didn't involve a lot of running (which I hate) and even when it did, it was only a small amount at a time. It also was more interesting to me, because so many different things could happen, and unlike other sports (hockey, basketball, soccer) it wasn't merely 'go back and forth and try to put this thing in this other thing'. I also loved it because I knew everyone would get their turn to contribute. As I grew older, I realized there was a lot of strategy to it, a lot of mind games to be played between batter and pitcher, and batter and fielder. Such as when I was 13 and known as one who hit a lot of grounders, so the other team moved way the heck in and that made me mad so I smacked an RBI double way over their heads. Or when I was 10 and known as one who never swung at anything (the pitchers were also 10) so their determination to throw strikes almost always made them throw more wildly, and ended up with me walking safely. And then just to get in their heads even more I'd steal bases all the way to third.

My dad always came to my games, and we would discuss the things I did wrong (never swinging at anything) and the things I did well (stealing bases) on the way home. My dad has three daughters and no sons, and while he's not the most sports-obsessed guy in the world, he still likes them enough to want to discuss them from time to time. My sisters have little to no interest in sports (unless you count dance as a sport, which I don't) and so me liking baseball was his first chance to have an interest in common with his animal-loving, bookworm eldest daughter.

He took me to my first Blue Jays game when I was about 6 or 7. I can't remember who we played, or who was playing, other than Carlos Delgado (and him I only remember because my dad pointed out a Milk ad on the subway with him in it, and I thought he had a cool name) and the roof of the SkyDome was open so I spent most of the game watching the elevator cars go up & down the CN Tower. (Oops.) I'm pretty sure they lost, and we left early because I was getting sleepy (who brings a 6-year old to a night game an hour away from home when her bedtime is 8:30?? My dad, that's who). But I do remember that it was fun.

The second time around, I was about 9 or 10 and I don't remember any of the players on the Jays team, but I remember they were playing the Red Sox and they won. That was fun. I remember this being during that brief time that they experimented with that stupid logo of a giant 'T' with a bird peering around it. I remember being very disapproving of that logo. Needless to say, I'm glad they changed back to a revised version of the original.

Then I didn't go to any games for a while, but I had a poster on the back of my door of Roy Halladay that I'd found in the newspaper and put up even though I hadn't heard of him at the time, but he was wearing a Jays uniform so I wanted him on my wall. And I kept asking my dad about him, because his was the only Blue Jay name I knew. I got really sad when he went to the Phillies, but left the poster on my door.

I stopped playing baseball when I was about 16. I had other things going on, I wanted to focus on school and friends and getting a job blah blah blah. I occasionally asked my dad how the Jays were doing, and he basically said 'meh' every year. I had a natural allegiance to the team, but it had become a casual one.

Then in the summer of 2014 some of my friends at school were watching the home opener on TV and I tagged along. They were pretty surprised that I understood everything that happened. I kept checking in on the team's progress throughout the next few months, which I must say was pretty exciting for a while.

Then I got my dad and grandpa and I tickets to a July Jays game for Father's Day. My dad was disappointed because a bunch of the big players - Brett Lawrie, Adam Lind, Edwin Encarnacion - were out injured, but he was a fan of R.A. Dickey and chose to go see him anyways. And being there in the stadium I remembered how much I loved baseball. How exciting it is, watching the plays and holding your breath hoping something exciting will happen. How every at-bat is a new chance to make a difference. How the smack of the ball into a glove is one of the most satisfying sounds on this earth. We arrived to the Dome late, in the bottom of the 4th inning, due to traffic, and the Jays lost 1-5 to the Rangers, but that didn't matter. My love of the team and my passion for the game had returned.

I spent the rest of that summer - all the way to the end of September - catching the tail end of games when I got home exhausted from work. Even when there was no hope for a playoff spot, I watched. My roommates and I went to the last game of the season. Neither of them really knew much about baseball, and it felt really good to be the undisputed expert for once! The Jays lost to the Orioles 0-1, which was a disappointment for sure, but we still had fun. And all I could think was 'Man, I can't wait for next season to start.' 

I love baseball because the season happens to fall in line perfectly with the 'offseason' for my other obsession - TV shows (you can access my blog about those over here). Because my inner history nerd is so fascinated with the nostalgia, and the culture, and the tradition of this amazing game. Because everyone who loves this team is so enthusiastic and so willing to talk to someone who's basically a stranger, just because they have one thing in common.

I love the Blue Jays because I love Canada, and this is Canada's team. I barely pay attention to sports, but the one time I do is at the Olympics - and the community and the excitement surrounding Canada's success at those Games is exactly what this feels like, but for six months instead of just two weeks. Even when the team's not doing well, there's always the hope for tomorrow, or next week, or next season. And we still have our little community to wish and commiserate and be sarcastic and mope with. 

Go Jays Go!