The Good Stuff
Baseball in the time of COVID
(Writing time: 30 minutes)
Staying positive is exhausting. I believe that it is my nature to stay positive, to bank on hope, to believe in the good stuff. That’s what I called my first book, by the way, my collection of newspaper columns: “The Good Stuff.” I picked that title because those three words are what drew me to sportswriting in the first place — as a sportswriter, I could spend much of my time writing about the good stuff in life. I figured, maybe, that’s where I could make a contribution.
It’s hard these days to find the good stuff. And even when you can find the good stuff, it’s hard to build the energy to write about it.
This from a (former) reader: “I’m sad to unsubscribe because I enjoy your writing but all things sports are too depressing right now. I don’t want to live in this world.”
I am haunted by those words. To that reader, in case you are still listening, I want to tell you that I understand. Depression rolls all around us too. We are the lucky ones here, I know that. I have a job. My family is healthy, so far. We are together, which is a great gift. When I’m asked, “How are you doing?” I have nothing to say except that we are thankful and, yes, lucky.
But that isn’t the whole story because our oldest daughter lost her senior year in high school. She officially graduated last week in a social distance ceremony that we had to watch online. She will start her college life at home learning (?) online, and it breaks my heart. Our younger daughter will start her sophomore year learning (??) online — she has spent the last year working every day on her tennis game in an effort to make a high school team that, likely, will not exist. A year of her life goes by too quietly.
Such small things — too small to even bring up.
But real things.
These small things pile up. I have seen my parents only from a distance and haven’t seen friends except through the prism of Facetime. My grandmother’s funeral was on Zoom. Several friends have had COVID. Some of them are still recovering even though it has been weeks and weeks. Other friends have lost their jobs and are trying to figure out what comes next. One friend of a friend just died young.
The sports that I have dedicated my life to writing about are simply funhouse mirror versions of themselves.
And, as I say, we are lucky ones. So many people are dealing with so much more … I shudder to mention any of this.
I mention it only to say: Dear Reader, it’s hard not despair. I share the pain you are feeling. I am listening. I don’t know if it does anyone any good to write about Shane Bieber pitching brilliantly among cardboard cutouts and pumped-in cheers. I don’t know if it does any good to write about Albert Pujols approaching Willie Mays’ home run mark or Mike Trout hitting his first home run as a new father. A large part of me can’t help but believe it doesn’t do much good. America feels broken. Nobody has any answers, and yet everybody screams. There seems no end to any of it.
So why write this little baseball thing each morning? I don’t know. It’s the thing I know how to do, I suppose. Does it do any good? I don’t know that either. All I know is that I look at the clock and realize that I have been writing this for 32 minutes, which means I have gone past my deadline. I am out of time. I will try again tomorrow.
This is perhaps an odd thing to say, but one of your stories about Buck is a key touch point for me these days. You tell of a grown man grabbing a foul ball from a young child ... and Buck saying that maybe he had a kid at home for whom the ball would be a treasure. Always looking for the little flowers growing in the mud.
Last week, I drove by a road construction crew. The woman holding the warning sign was dancing and smiling, waving to all the traffic going by. Yesterday, we took my daughter's car into the dealership for some minor work. Instead of making us go through all the paperwork and scheduling, the older man who guided us in just said, "shoot I can do that right now" pulled the car into the back and was done in five minutes. This morning as I went for a jog, I saw a yard with dozens of cheap mylar pinwheels turning slowly in the breeze. Last night, I watched Ronald Acuna score from third on a ball to second with the infield drawn in. After scoring, he leaped up with a huge smile on his face.
Yeah, there is a lot that is bad in the world. Racism, hatred, people playing politics with our health, and the like. But even with all that, you don't have to look far and wide to find one more red dress.
For me, at least, getting these is a blessing. Whether it's your daily baseball 100, weekly baseball moments, PosCast, or random articles - they were an escape pre-pandemic and even more so now. I agree - it's strange trying to enjoy sports the last week or two as it opens (and as a Phillies fan, watching it shut down so quickly and knowing the end of the season is probably right around the corner). But we all just need to do what we can to make it through.
But your last sentence stuck out - that's all we can do. About a year ago (obviously pre-covid), my son wrote himself a note to redo some homework before school the next day. It says, simply, "Try again in the morning". My wife taped it to the wall in the kitchen to be all of our daily mantra - which seems even more necessary now.