THANK GOD FOR BASEBALL

“I believe in the Church of Baseball.
I’ve tried all the major religions
and most of the minor ones.
I’ve worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma,
Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan…
I’ve tried ’em all, I really have,
and the only church that truly feeds the soul
is the Church of Baseball.”

annie savoy in bull durham

For baseball fans, October is the most exciting time of the year.

Depending on which is your favorite team, this can be a month of ecstasy or heartbreak.

I’m old enough to remember the seventh game of the 1960 World Series when, on October 13, at precisely 3:36 p.m., Eastern Standard Time, the city of Pittsburgh erupted in euphoria after Bill Mazeroski hit a game-winning home run in the bottom of the ninth inning to give the Pirates a 10-9 walk-off victory over the New York Yankees and their first championship in thirty-five years!

I was in the eleventh grade. Our high school had set up a television set in the gym, and if you had an eighth-period study hall, you were allowed to go in and watch the game. Imagine the frenzy of that moment!

As ineptly as the Pirates have played recently, those memories become even more precious to those of my generation.

But regardless of whether your team has been eliminated or was never even in contention (like the current version of my Pirates), October is still an entertaining month.

With all the chaos that is going on in the acrimonious world of politics, baseball provides an escape from the reality of the conflict, the tension, and the hostility that dominates the headlines.

It is a welcome respite from the vindictive, appalling vulgarities that are tweeted daily by the petulant juvenile that occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C.

Baseball has undergone significant changes in the last half century.

For the longest time, Major League Baseball was the only sport that rewarded its winners. Only the league champions were worthy of extending their season.

In 1969, the addition of four more teams made it necessary to break up both the American and National Leagues into divisions, forcing a playoff series between the division winners to determine who made it to the World Series. With the addition of more teams in 1998, they eventually expanded from two divisions to three in each league. In order to even out the playoff format, one wild card team was added…then two…then three.

I happen to be among the ambivalent opponents of the playoff system.

I will tolerate wild card teams up to a point. But, with more expansion planned within the next few years, I fear that baseball is travelling down a treacherous path where it could soon resemble football, basketball, and hockey. The NFL, NBA, and NHL play a long, drawn-out regular season to eliminate only half of the competition. Why bother, then, playing so many games?

But that complaint aside, baseball has enthralled me since childhood. I unapologetically tell anyone who will listen that baseball is like a second religion for me. I’m not unique in that regard.

And it’s not a giant leap to make comparisons between faith and baseball.

Despite the popularity of other sports, it is important to point out that more books have been written, and more movies have been made about baseball than any other sport.

The movie Bull Durham, arguably among the best, if not the best of modern baseball movies, opens with a memorable monologue that makes slightly sacrilegious connections between church and baseball. The character, Annie Savoy, brilliantly portrayed by Susan Sarandon, at once draws the viewer into the story. (Click on the title to read the entire dialogue or click on the video below to watch.)

Although I don’t wax as eloquent as Annie Savoy, or as irreverent, you can count me among those who worship at the shrine of baseball.

John Sexton, who served as the President of New York University from 2002 to 2015, authored a book in 2013, Baseball As a Road to God: Seeing Beyond the Game, in which he wrote the following:

Opening Day in the spring and the World Series in the fall are the bookends of baseball’s liturgical time, and within the rituals of each season, fans are converted to believers, players, managers, and even owners become saints (or sinners); and events become part of a mythology, forever remembered and repeated with the solemnity of the most beloved sacred stories. [p. 14]

Sexton holds a Ph. D. in history of American religion, as well as a law degree. The book is an outgrowth of a course he taught at NYU in which he used baseball to explore points ordinarily associated with religion.

Baseball offers a window into the nature of faith, even in the deepest meanings of the word – as a source of comfort, of motivation, of understanding, and above all, of meaning and ultimate purpose. [p. 44]

Since I read the book several years ago, I keep it handy and find myself going back to it from time to time to search for possible sermon illustrations.

I’ve often pointed out that baseball is an unforgiving sport, predicated more on failure than success. For instance, a .300 batting average is considered successful. But upon closer analysis, that average simply means that you’ve only succeeded three times in ten attempts. You’ve failed seven times.

Nevertheless, every time a player steps up to the plate, he has a chance to redeem himself by doing something spectacular, like hitting a game-winning home run.

If you are a Cleveland baseball fan, you saw that scene played out on more than one occasion by Guardians players throughout the season. Sadly, not on Thursday.

At this time of the year, with so much on the line, every moment is magnified.

Even traditionalists, who disdain the significant changes of the last half century, can put up with expansion, realignment, wild-card playoffs, the designated hitter, the pitch clock, the ghost runner in extra innings, just to enjoy October baseball.

For a few weeks in October, we can forget about tariffs, tax cuts, and toxic rhetoric.

Shutdowns take a back seat to shutouts.

Diversity can be celebrated, instead of condemned. After all, what would baseball be like without Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Venezuelans, or Japanese?

Unlike our elected officials, who do little more than point fingers and assess blame, we can pay attention to those athletes who are doing something truly worthwhile – bringing joy, not disappointment, to millions.

Depending on where I am at the time, I will be glued to my television screen, or listening to my car radio.

No matter who’s playing, I want to witness the action, from the opening pitch to the final out.

Or to put it in liturgical language, from the processional hymn to the benediction and dismissal.