Does it really matter?

1/14/2014

Does baseball really matter? I mean, really matter? Is the world any better off because a particular player batted .300 or won 20 games? Would life as we know it be substantially different--better or worse--if there were no such thing as baseball? Or basketball, football, hockey, golf, tennis, or water polo for that matter?

An argument can be made that, in some cases, the world is a little better off because of baseball. For example, stories abound of young boys in underdeveloped countries (and even poor communities here in the US) who make it to the Major Leagues and are then able to take care of their families. So at least to that degree, baseball (and other sports) gives a glimmer of hope where there was none.

It's been said that baseball is not a matter of life and death, but the Red Sox are. I believe that statement gets to the heart of the importance of baseball. The game in and of itself makes absolutely no contribution in matters of national debt, homelessness, foreign policy, world hunger, and so on. But for the fan, baseball provides a peg on which to hang hope. I can choose a team based on whatever criteria I deem appropriate (geography, favorite players, colors, or what have you) and hitch my wagon to that team, so to speak. I can follow that group of players through the ups and downs of a summer, exult in the victories and grieve the losses. That's why many fans use the words "we" and "us" in regard to a team, even though the fan never suited up, threw a pitch, or swung a bat. I have, in my mind and heart if nowhere else, formed a bond with that team. I feel very connected to them. I can win the World Series vicariously.

More than that, baseball is a means of escapism. For the three or so hours that the game is being played, I can forget about all the troubles of the world. Not to be callous or uncaring, but spending a few hours at the ballpark is a pleasant diversion from all the things that keep us awake at night. For those few hours, I don't have to worry about all the things I worry about at other times. I can watch "us" play baseball instead. A psychiatrist would probably say that's not a healthy way to deal with worry, but there it is.

That's why I don't get caught up in all the efforts to speed up the game. In my ears, it sounds like we're saying let's hurry up and get this thing over with. It's almost as if a ballgame were a root canal or IRS audit. I don't want it to be over with. I want the game to last a while. Take your time getting into the box, batter. Don't be in too big a hurry to throw the ball, pitcher. Let's enjoy ourselves for a little while longer. As soon as the game is over and I leave the ballpark or turn off the TV, I have to get back to real life. (Ironically, in the early days of baseball, the game was thought to be too fast and too violent for American tastes. In our time, baseball is considered not fast enough or violent enough for American tastes.)

So in answer to the original question, no, baseball doesn't really matter. A billion starving people in the world have no idea that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series, and they care even less. But for the fan, it matters (maybe a little too much at times). It's an outlet. It's therapeutic. It's a connection to a world that's bigger than our own. It's a tonic. It makes life a little more tolerable. And that's important, isn't it?