Sarx

URING THE Period of the weekend e-newsletter at the Church Center, I had two moments of internet fame – at the time when very few of us understood what the internet did. The first was this post on Baseball’s Opening Day in 1996. I received email from all over the country as people reported “I sent this to my friend…” I got notes from preachers who used it, from church secretaries who put it in their bulletins and from sports fans who showed to their widow/spouses.

This was the first time I used my mental Garrison Keillor to tell a story. Folks seem to like it. It’s dated (remember Ross Perot? Ken Griffey? Huey Lewis?), But I think it still works. The second post hit was a post on Krispy Kremes… I’ll run that up the flag pole later.

This was the first chance I had to feel the effect of words on the net. By this time I’d been going for a year in journalling and the Episcopal Church also joined Ecunet. This essay first circulated there…

::Opening Day Essay 1996
© 1996

Well, it’s Opening Day. At least it should be. Rain in many places and snow in Cleveland has ruined many a dream today, but all in all the Season has started and the game is afoot.

For a few moments, we should consider the mystical aspects of the game: Never was a pagan fertility ritual so occultly obvious or so publicly hidden. The mysteries of Alchemy and the Tao are all laid out on the Diamond. Lo, the mystical orb, launched from the consecrated hands of the Hierophant, is hurled towards its rightful resting place. Yet, hark! The sound of the Wand of the Fool striking the sacred sphere as it is sent soaring in the astrals and beyond, lost in the very light of the Sun. The Fool speeds his way, passing the resting stations on his journey: First base is active. Second is almost maddeningly passive. Third a creative merger of the two. Rushing to Home, the Fool moves to another plane of reality and becomes Adeptus – for now. Yet life is always a series of Initiations. Each turn at bat another trial and another chance for salvation.

It is odd that this ultimate American pastime – with all of its talk of team and sportsmanship comes down to me (the Batter) against thee (the Pitcher). What you can do to me, I – and I alone – can defend against for this time. Baseball, like American Religion, is about personal salvation leading to universal Nirvana – for an elect (the World Series champs). Thus we see in our Game the realities of our life. The work ethic of American Protestantism would have us believe that I may save myself (and maybe my family) if I work hard to get God’s blessings. But as a side benefit, American Society will also be blessed.

When the Batter faces the Pitcher, he is the laborer facing the manager. He is the secretary facing the boss. The Batter is the commuter wondering if she will find the way clear to get to work in decent time and then return again to home in the ‘burbs. The Pitcher is every teacher we ever hated but grew to love because her tough teaching awakened in us skills and powers we never knew we had. The Pitcher is every parent who ever said “A good job and a good life only comes after hard work.” The Batter is every kid who ever took the challenge.

We can’t help but wonder – as any bunch of good fans should – what might be the outcome. Will the Braves do It again? Will the Yankees come out of their choking habits? But all this questioning is really about our own national prosperity and our personal blessings. Can I manage to get my family through yet another year of higher taxes and greater health costs? Will I ever reach the Home Plate that seems to beckon from behind the Hammers and the Perots and the Forbes? Can I bring enough food home to feed the kids? Like Romans in the Coliseum, we find ourselves absorbed in the Spectacle of it all – just once in awhile to forget the real troubles of our lives.

Joseph Campbell postulated that the Myths of ancient cultures represented the energies of the body fighting against themselves. I would postulate that we feel the same way about our teams today. For me, the Mets are all that is good and noble – but not good enough. The Yankees – while having been champions for an inordinate number of times – represent all that is past and arrogant in their passing. The Dodgers represent the betrayal of corporate downsizing. The Denver Rockies show us the peak industries of chips, modems and the net. Granted, all of this would be different to the fans of the LA Dodgers, or to my Little Brother, Joey or my Friend, Jorge – ardent Yankee fans.

That’s the beauty of Baseball – and of America on its better days – there’s room in the pennant race for Yankee Fans and Mets Fans. We can – if we are lucky – find that inclusivity in all of our modes of our life. Baseball shows us the good sides of ourselves. We think that the winner is a once and for all declaration, but it is not so: next season begins the day after Closing Day. Spring Training comes right after Christmas.

Opening Day is here. We shall watch the bats swing from now to October – barring a strike (Heaven forbid). Ken Griffey Jr will do some miraculous things on the Diamond and at the plate. People will complain about team names and fanatic gestures. Huey Lewis was raised from the dead for Seattle’s opening night festivities. Truly, miracles will continue. Summer’s here and the time is right for racing in the streets until we crown our Autumn Kings.