Living In The Moment
I wrote this article for the All-Star Game Program and wanted to share it with you...
Baseball and I had our first date in the mid 1980s. I was a gawky pre-teen (or "tween" as we now call them) with big hair. I wore jeans, a jersey that hung to my knees and a wide-eyed expression. Clutching my dad’s hand, I felt my chest tighten with the anticipation of the first pitch. I don’t think I blinked –- or exhaled -- during that first inning.
There was an instant connection; it was love at first sight. The smell of the stadium -– hot dogs, cotton candy and fresh cut grass -- was intoxicating (and to this day is something I would dab behind my ears if someone would bottle it). The sounds -– the crack of the bat, the umpire’s calls and the fans screaming at the top of their lungs -– were equally exhilarating. Sharing it all with 40,000 exuberant devotees brought together in support of their hometown boys was absolutely delicious. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the sportsmanship. I loved Baseball.
As I grew up, our love affair continued. Like any good relationship, Baseball taught me about myself and the world at large. As a teenager, I’d go to games whenever my scheduled allowed. If I couldn’t physically be there, I listened on the radio. Vin Scully’s voice is as soothing to me as my own father’s. Baseball had nothing to do with my day job (a fact that I loved) and it kept me from pursuing some of the other, less wholesome, interests of some of my peers. I learned about competition, fair play, the disappointment of loss and the exaltation of victory sitting in the stands of Dodger Stadium. I learned that practice makes perfect, except when it doesn’t -- that sometimes, no matter how much you’ve studied, prepared or anticipated, there will come a day when you just su*k and there’s nothing you can do about it. Except of course, realize that tomorrow is another day. I learned that great achievements don’t come easily. Not without hard work, sweat and sacrifice. I learned to live in the moment. I learned to never leave early because you never know what will happen. And I learned that if the impossible does happen, if the worst-case scenario presents itself, or worse, if a championship game is lost, one can go on.
As a grown woman, I’ve learned to love the game even more. I can fully appreciate its nuances, the strategy behind it, the games within the game, and the other, deeper issues that surround the psychology of winning. And the lessons continue: If you love something, stick with it, for it will almost certainly bring you joy one day. The Dodgers broke my heart last season, but I was back in the stands this year, ready to watch the season unfold.
When the world is not OK (and that seems to be more often than not, lately), I take comfort in Baseball. The history and spirit of the sport remind me that life is complicated and so are our heroes. But that through a good, fair game, we can match wits and skill, and most importantly, put aside differences and play on an even field. Each opening anthem is a fresh beginning. Anything can happen and the possibilities are endless. Your past doesn’t haunt you. Your future is not yet determined. It is bliss.
Ask Alyssa!
I thought it might be fun to open up your comments to specific questions this entry. I will pick my favorite questions and answer them to the best of my ability in the next entry. How does that sound?
Peace,
Love,
AND BASEBALL,
Alyssa
P.S. I have an appearance for TOUCH at Shea Stadium on Saturday, July 28. I will be at the Shea Stadium Team Store signing autographs from 11:30-12:30 p.m. ET and then again from 6-7 p.m. (doubleheader that day). Ten percent of all TOUCH sales at the store will go to the New York Mets Foundation. Come by and visit!
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