"Two Men on Base"

“They'll score quicker, I remarked. There are two men on base.” And then it happened. The raucous sounds of laughter rang through the air as my dear mother-in-law, in her 80's and her three young grandsons, reacted to my words of total nonsense. “What was so funny?” I asked. “There should not be two men on base”, she tried to tell me, through her laughter. “The other guy is the third base coach!” “Oh.” And so the story goes.

I was genuine in my belief; my dear mother-in-law, in her disbelief! Since that moment many years ago, I have learned much about the sport of sports, the thinking man's game. Baseball was never a part of my childhood. As a youngster, I began to fall in love with classical music, then square dancing by grade 8. By high school, volleyball and intramural basketball assumed mythical proportions. Music and song were still great loves as I joined the high school choir and participated in many high school musical productions throughout those busy academic years. My grade 9 homeroom gym class won the title of the best in basketball, the sport of very tall people, -(Momsey is short) - in a competition with other grade 9 gym classes. I never forgot the prestigious honour. As time passed, however, the indoor/outdoor games of my childhood, faded into the background, until decades later, when 3 little boys entered our lives and began to show us the supreme power and importance of all sports in early childhood and life. Baseball, in its infancy, here in Canada, took the lead!

Running, catching, jumping, falling are normal outcomes in the day of a child. Baseball was natural fit for them. Without special equipment or uniforms, baseball is a formative game about communication, on and off the field. (Being a runner or a gymnast helps in its execution.) When the hitting is poor, defense is the number one strategy in preventing the opposing team from increasing their score. A strong offense and good defense aids the pitcher. Being aware of the 'nuances', on the field, can spell the difference between a win or loss, Momsey now knows. Baseball is about planning, organizing, sociology, practice, strategizing, talent and skill and understanding 'codes' between pitcher and catcher. It is eye contact of the highest order. It is a whole brain workout for mind and body, a perfect fit for all.

Baseball has the power to unite, excite, and connect us all. It is an emotional outlet during times of great stress. For a brief moment, our troubles are forgotten, as we watch and hope for our team's win. We're energized when the starting pitcher shuts down the opposition. Why does the pitcher always get blamed when the team loses? If no one is hitting then what should we expect? When the ball is hit by the opposition, we hope our team's defense will minimize its 'collateral damage'. Baseball is a thinking man's game. ...

Our Toronto Blue Jays were born in 1977. It is now Canada's team. Baseball became a social outlet, for us, during the long, hot days of summer, decades ago. Winning or losing, 'our' team drew us into their world. We belonged to them. When they lost, we suffered, too. Supporting the Blue Jays in their quest to win the coveted World Series title, made us all work a little harder to make time for that special bonding interlude, in our day. Team support was important. We kept watching and hoping. We embraced it all. Our boys boys and their dad understood the game. It was in their DNA, it seemed. Their grandmother had taught them well, in her unique teaching style. Momsey was a newcomer to baseball but excited, nonetheless, wanting to learn and understand the game the whole world knew and loved.

Once upon a time, tickets to the former Exhibition Stadium, in Toronto, Ontario, Canada were $2 for simple bleacher seats. Our youngest of three was a one-year-old then, sitting on my lap till the 2^nd or 3^rd inning arrived. By then it was time to go. Having walked for several hours prior to the start of the game during the hot summer's day at the CNE, our little boys did well to keep up the pace. With a paid admission to the fairgrounds, admission to the game was free. Each year we stayed a little bit longer. The boys were getting older. They were quickly becoming fans of this exciting, engaging game. Remaining till the 9^th inning was now possible. 

 

Baseball was showing its true intent, becoming a unifying force that brought us all together, under the searing heat of the summer sun to watch, scream, smile and vocalize. Momsey soon began to realize the power of baseball on the human condition. It was a driving force, a reason to be, a mood changer, therapy, a relaxant, a soother, the calm before the storm, the icing on the cake of life and an excuse to eat hotdogs, beer and soda pop.

A base hit, grand slam, home run, bunt or walk were foreign terms to me. Not now. I ask the questions. Baseball's messages become clearer. Listening to the words of the television's broadcasters, Buck Martinez and Pat Tabler, narrating the game, play-by-play, helps Momsey love the game that connects us all in a warm show of solidarity. The players are family, for a brief moment in time. ... Back in the day, names like Jose Guzman, Dave Stieb, George Bell and Joe Carter were familiar Blue Jay's players. Now they are a part of its illustrious history. Today, Jose Bautista, Josh Donaldson, Marcus Stroman, Kevin Pillar and Ezequiel Carrera, to name a few, dominate the Blue Jays' baseball roster, now a family tradition, igniting the passion and excitement of a game Momsey adores. When I miss a 'winning' game, I watch Blue Jays in 30, a summary of the highlights in a quick 30-minute block. 

I do not fully understand baseball's rules and plays but simply listening to the descriptive and exacting words of the television sports commentators, Jamie Campbell, the host and Gregg Zaun, the analyst, during the games' intermissions, helps make Momsey a little bit smarter, each and every time. Occasionally, they play 'show and tell' to help illustrate baseball's moments, in real time, on the studio floor. I appreciate their efforts. But what exactly is a sacrifice fly?