Rediscovering the Gift of Baseball
What a month! Over the past thirty days, the Kansas City Royals have taken our city on quite a ride.
Like everyone else, I have spent most of October on the edge of my seat, trying to make sense of this amazing run while taking it all in. One of the joys for me has been watching our community experience this together; hearing stories about how the Royals have impacted lives and brought joy to so many. With that in mind, I thought I would pen my own experience with hopes that you will also share yours. I would encourage you to share pictures and stories within our online CYO community. Our own Shaw Leach has added his thoughts via a great post that can be found here. Hoarse and numb from attending Game 7 last night, here’s my attempt…
My own love affair with baseball goes back three decades. For me baseball has always been one of the places I can go to find escape in the midst of a crazy world. I first experienced the beauty of this sport at (then Royals Stadium) in 1986 from the old right field bleachers. I’d like to say I remember this moment, but I was young then. I do remember ice cream sundaes in a helmet and how I loved running down those wonderful spiral ramps at the stadium. I also remember the players, from George Brett and Frank White to Mike Macfarlane and Brian McRae. Those halcyon days deepened my love of baseball and led to a happy if unsuccessful little league and high-school “career”. Yet it was in the summer of 2003 at a Royals game against the San Francisco Giants that things stepped up a notch.
It was there that Dad and I decided to take a road trip to see games in every major league stadium.
You can imagine the memories we made as we drove across the country over three summers, living in a car and bonding over baseball. It was an incredible blessing and one that set apart this sport as something more than just a game. For me it became a powerful connection to family. It was also then that I first recognized the impact the sport has in communities across our country. It helped to shape my view of sports as a gift from God designed to bear great fruit. More than any other sport, baseball came to symbolize for me a certain beauty in the midst of our complex world. It was a gift unchanged for decades with the power to reach across generations.
In my mind, it’s that unique view of baseball as a gift that had been missing for nearly three decades in our hometown. Where baseball was a source of pride in other communities, it was the opposite in Kansas City. As gifts go, it was the ugly Christmas sweater. We may have held on to hope that this would turn around, but for two generations baseball became a burden rather than a gift. Families attended games looking for fun, but often ended up complaining about the cost of parking or tickets and the dismal team. We latched on to individual players or stories, but nothing was big enough to create a movement. Baseball was becoming three hours we didn’t have to sit and watch a game where we knew the outcome would be disappointing.
[Full disclosure: Thanks to my grandfather, I actually grew up a fan of the Chicago Cubs, one of the few teams along with the Royals that can lay claim to knowing how this feels. I somehow remain a fan of both the Cubs and Royals, which is easily reconciled given that they will certainly never meet in a World Series.]
In the waning hours of September, as Salvador Perez slapped a ball past the outstretched glove of the Oakland A’s all-star third baseman to end the Wild Card game, the joy came back.
I saw a city that had spent so long losing rediscover the gift of this great sport, and it was once again thrilling to be a baseball fan in Kansas City. As the team opted not to lose on their way to the American League pennant, one of the most indelible memories for me will be the effect this had on Kauffman Stadium, a place I have been watching games for my entire life. Seeing it in October for the first time, the fountains seemed to dance more, the lights shone brighter on the green field, and the sound seemed to echo across the city. That sound was deafening, an incredible sound of joy saved up over 29 difficult years. People sharing high-fives and hugs, united by something as insignificant as a game but with the power to be much bigger than that.
I’ll also remember watching the playoffs with family and friends who had never cared much for baseball but were now hanging on every pitch. I will remember people honking horns and cheering in the streets when the Royals clinched a spot in the World Series. But the greatest memory for me will come from the games I saw in person with the man who taught me baseball. I had the blessing of attending three playoff games with my dad. We celebrated as the Royals won the Division Series and shook our heads as the Giants ended their winning streak in Game 1 of the World Series.
Then last night, Dad and I attended Game 7 of the World Series. It was a culmination of sorts, a climax to a journey that spanned more than thirty ballparks and brought us close together during difficult years. As sports go, nothing is bigger than Game 7. I hope to attend many more baseball games with Dad in the years to come, but it would be hard to beat Game 7 of the World Series in the same stadium where he took me to my first game.
I don’t need to tell you how the game went. As the Royals batted in the Bottom of the 9th with a chance to tie or win, it felt like a dream. Then we all woke up. Like so many others, as the wrong team celebrated on the field I looked around in stunned silence.
But then something incredible happened. Somewhere in the stadium, fans began chanting the same “Let’s go Royals” cheer that had echoed through the city over the past month.
More fans joined in. In the aftermath of the most crushing athletic defeat most people there had experienced, we were recognizing the gift we had received. It was beautiful. If not the perfect ending, it was a fitting tribute to an incredible journey.
For me, the 2014 Royals will always remain a great testimony to the power of sports to unite a community and bring joy to so many. The team was a gift to Kansas City and to Royals fans everywhere. As great as the ride has been, we should pause to remember where the gift comes from. Our favorite teams will continue to “win some and lose some” as the saying goes. Yet, there can be something consistently powerful in the experience of sport if we remember that everything comes from God.
As we reflect on the Royals or on our own experiences in the days and weeks ahead, I would leave you with wisdom from Saint Pope John Paul II. Canonized last spring, we celebrated his feast day last week on October 22nd (a Royals victory).
A great sportsman, the Pope encouraged us to: “Give thanks to God for the gift of sport,” adding that sports can encourage young people to “develop important values such as loyalty, perseverance, friendship, sharing and solidarity.”
I think we can all agree that we’ve seen those values demonstrated in the story of the 2014 Royals and the fans who experienced this journey. I pray that we all continue to recognize sports as a gift from God and use them to spread His will and bring joy to our communities.
Peter Piscitello — Executive Director, CYO — www.cyojwa.org
