Last night, after the World Series Game 6, my friend Katie asked me “What made you love baseball so much?” This is what I said.
Hard to say. I grew up hearing about Kirk Gibson. I might’ve watched some of the 1984 World Series, but don’t know if I was really that into it. I remember watching the Dodger’s World Series when Gibson played for them, but not sure I paid much attention.
It’s funny. I feel like I didn’t really follow baseball when I was a kid, but at the same time, I seem to have watched baseball regularly. I remember watching Gibson when he played for the Pirates, and I watched him when he came back to Detroit. Though I didn’t really understand the game until later in my life.
Also, I think the movie Field of Dreams had a lot to do with turning me onto baseball. Mostly because the movie introduced me to the history of the game, which I found fascinating. Baseball is like a religion to me. It’s deep and traditional. In the order of things, I place baseball above the Bible. There is nothing more magical and powerful than baseball, not in my book. Baseball is also something I turn to during hard times. It helps me get through.
Though I enjoy the game as a fan, I’m sad that I didn’t enjoy it much as a player. I played little league, but I was so clueless, confused, self-conscious and unsure of what I was supposed to be doing. I didn’t really play. I just stood there like an idiot. Later, in a high school P. E. class, we played softball on the school’s baseball field. I surprised myself by slugging the ball deep into the outfield. At that point, I realized I could’ve been a decent baseball player. I should have tried out for the school’s team, but I didn’t, and it might have been too late anyway.