Sometimes you end up somewhere that you would have least expected to find yourself. Thats happened to me a couple of times lately. Once it was due to taking the wrong exit off of an interstate highway. I missed Exit 14, so I needed to make a U-turn and double back. No problem, right? WRONG! The Department of Transportation must spend weeks (or even years!) figuring out the most convoluted traffic patterns imaginable. Of course, there is no such thing as a "simple" U-turn. You must take the next available exit (Exit 15A), leave the interstate, and then figure out how to get back on the interstate, going in the opposite direction. Invariably "the next exit" takes you into a residential section, full of one-way streets that only take you further away from any recognizable landmarks. After twenty minutes of frantic driving, you see it: an entrance ramp to the interstate. Yes! It puts you back on the interstate, going southbound (which actually is the direction that you want to go). YES! You make it back down to Exit 14 (though of course this time you are on the other side of the highway), and finally take the correct exit. NO! Of course, the exit has been closed, due to construction work. The signs indicate that drivers should take Exit 13, and follow the detour signs. Here we go again!
Finally, after all those U-turns and detours and road construction, you make it to your destination. Some-times, however, even the correct destination can be a bit of a surprise for you. A week ago, my destination was Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, to watch a Major League baseball game between the Philadelphia Phillies and the St. Louis Cardinals. A good friend of mine had given us a pair of tickets (Thanks, John!). The seats were on the third row, three-quarters of the way down the left field foul line. Great view! My friend Ken and I got to the stadium about a half hour before game time, so I used the time to reflect on "Baseball: Americas Favorite Pastime".
I must admit, theres something distinctly American about baseball. A persons love of baseball is almost seen as a measure of patriotism. Even Madison Avenue recognizes that fact. Several years ago, an advertising campaign featured the musical slogan "Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie, and Chevrolet", accompanied by Norman Rockwell characters come-to-life: freckle-faced boys playing Little League baseball, with the Stars and Stripes waving overhead. I dont know if they sold a lot of Chevrolets, but they sure motivated a lot of us to lay out a baseball diamond in the back yard again. The sentiment even spilled over into Hollywood, with Kevin Costner and his "Field of Dreams." Cant you still hear James Earl Jones cavernous voice intoning, "Build it, and they will come"?!?
Even as a non-athlete, I still had my share of baseball when I was a kid. Yes, I played on a Little League team for a few years. I was on the Yankees. I dont remember a lot about the whole experience, except that we had little green baseball caps with a white "Y" on them, and that I always had to play right field. You see, thats where they put kids that arent too good. I mean, no one hits the ball to right field. Well, as you might expect, one day someone actually did hit the ball to right field. It was a long, high fly. "Easy out!", my teammates were yelling to me and to each other. The ball hung lazily in the air, then began to plummet to the Earth. I extended my arm, holding out my glove. The ball was coming at me. I mean, RIGHT AT ME. Instead of landing in my glove, it landed in my mouth and then bounced and rolled away. Needless to say, it didnt turn out to be an "easy out" after all! Shortly thereafter, I found myself sitting on the bench more and more (but at least I still got to wear my Yankees cap!).
All these memories were far behind me as I sat in Veterans Stadium. Now I was looking at the game from an adult perspective. What I saw surprised me. First, the game of baseball is a very sexy game. Overall, baseball players are a better-looking group of men than most other athletes. They have all of their teeth, unlike some ice hockey players. They actually have necks, unlike most football players. They have all of their ears, unlike some boxers that we know. Is it any wonder that Jim Palmer, one of baseballs winningest pitchers and a multiple Cy Young Award winner, is just as well known for being an underwear model? I think not.
The sport of baseball has even lent itself to sexual metaphors. We all know exactly what a guy means when he talks about "getting to first base" on a date. If the date went especially well, he might brag about "getting a home run" or "hitting it out of the park." Just be sure NOT to ask for details if he starts talking about his "grand slam!" This imagery was set to music in the late Seventies by Meatloaf in the hit song "Paradise By The Dashboard Light." If you want to get a whole new view of baseball, just pull out that album, and listen to that song again.
As I sat there in the park, munching on a hot dog and washing it down with a $4 Coca-Cola, I made a stunning discovery. Fundamentally, baseball is different from every other team sport. In football, in basketball, in soccer, in hockey, the object of the game is to get your ball/puck/ whatever in your opponents end zone/basket/goal, usually on the opposite side of where you begin. In baseball, you start at home... and the whole idea is to get back there again. You are just trying to get back where you started from! What an idea! Maybe the Phillies should take a lesson from Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz. Simply give each Phillies baserunner a pair of ruby slippers, tell them to click them together three times and say, "Theres no place like home... theres no place like home... " Just think of the runs that they could score!
Glen C. Pruitt is Executive Director of the Sussex County AIDS Committee.
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8/8/97 Issue. Copyright 1997 by CAMP Rehoboth, Inc. All rights reserved.