What is Baseball?

Hint: It’s not just a sport

Baseball is nine players versus a man wielding an ash column, swinging against the breeze, hoping to smack a sphere of stitched leather. It is the bated breath of a man sprinting 90 feet at a time, carrying a crowd’s hopes of finding home.

Baseball is America’s troubled segregated past, the potential of American inclusion, and an anthology of America’s immigrant stories. It is the promise of progressive values steeped in traditions and time-honored rituals. It honors those who came before us to build a foundation for future generations.

Baseball is relationships. It is the relationship between the shaken pitcher and the catcher who tries to re-establish his confidence. It is the relationship between the rebellious son who roots for the rival of his father’s favorite team out of spite. It is the relationship between the fan who gets to touch a piece of legend after catching a home run hit by their favorite player.

Baseball is the contortion of a shortstop twisting their body to toss a ball to first base and force a double play. It is the verbal gymnastics required for a mother to teach her daughter exactly how the game works the first time she sees the play. It is the dizzy sway and the excited slur of Harry Caray as he belts the phrase “Cubs win! Cubs win!”

Baseball is the belief in curses by the most avowed Atheists and those who would otherwise disavow any form of sorcery and witchcraft. It is a series of elaborate handshakes upon your return to the batter’s box. It is the magic that comes from flipping your hat inside out to inspire a 9th inning rally and a walk-off victory.

Baseball is civic pride and corporate sponsorships. It is the small rural town and the big metropolitan city. It is the rusty bus and the spacious team jet.

Baseball is the faithful fan who suffers decades filled with blowouts and narrow defeats, and would gladly suffer another heartbreak because hope never dies. It is the catcher with sore knees at the end of the night, in the twilight of his career, hanging on to the last frayed threads of his youth. It is the young woman stretching out her strained shoulder at 3am, having spent the entire evening throwing baseballs through a tire dangling from a tree branch, who aspires to dismantle gender barriers.

Baseball is nine players.
A batter.
A ball.
A field.
A pastime.

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