More About Baseball

The title of this blog is totally on purpose.  I have seen some backlash recently about too much baseball talk and it doesn't sit well with me.  In fact, it never sits well with me when people on social media or in real life critique other people for being who they are.  None of us really care about all of the things people we are following or are friends with care about.  I mean, sure, I care in a general I know you or have known you and hope you are enjoying your time here kind of way.  But I give less than zero fucks about your football teams, your dinner, your beer, where you are at any given moment, what your kids look like on the first day of school, or what genius thing you have to say about Ebola or Obamacare.  I certainly don't care enough to want to take the time to encourage you to stop posting the 17th picture of the bird you saw on your camping trip.  Good for you for being into your life.  And good for me for knowing how to scroll. I feel the same way about the language police.  I say "fuck" a lot. Whether or not it offends you is not my problem when you choose to be friends with me on Facebook.  Or read my blog.  Or when you come to my house.  Or pretty much anytime I am not being paid to have some semblance of appropriate and professional language.

Wondering about how people could be bothered by baseball did prompt me to reflect on just how and why baseball has become so important to me. I haven't always cared about baseball.  In fact, I could have cared less up until a couple of years ago. My Dad tried for years to encourage some interest in his beloved Giants, to no avail.  Years.  My dad is a lifer when it comes to the Giants.  He remembers when they came from New York; remembers cutting school to sit outside of Candlestick (made sense at the time); remembers players and coaches; he knows when AT&T opened, knew he was part of history when he saw Bonds play.  I, on the other hand, was pretty baseball resistant for almost my entire life.  There is a neat story about my Dad and Sandi trying to foster some enthusiasm and father-daughter bonding by taking me to a Giants vs. Dodgers double-header for our birthday one August. Based on my color choices at the time I would guess I was about 13 or 14 because I went to said double-header in ALL black.  That's right.  All black for eight hours of baseball at Candlestick.  In August.  My memories of that game are not of father-daughter bonding at all.  In fact, my memories are almost entirely of the passageway underneath the stands because that is where I sat.  For the entirety of both games.

I couldn't stand baseball.  Thought is was boring.  Sort of cared about the Giants because it was important to my Dad, but not really.  Not enough to know who was pitching when we went to AT&T annually, (or for that matter who we were playing), but enough to understand that it was a cool way to spend the day with my Dad. Plus, the garlic fries were good.  I didn't even jump on the bandwagon when they won the series for the first time in 2010. In fact, I wasn't bit by the bug until 2012, during the actual World Series against Detroit.  I don't know how or why it happened, all I know is that all of a sudden whether or not Sergio Romo got the save, and whether or not we swept in Motor City, became the number one most important thing in my life.  My dad wasn't even home, I don't think.  He's funny in that he manages to be out of town just about every time they are in a World Series, this year being no exception.  But once I was bit....it was all over.

Sometimes I think my obsession with baseball has come with my recovery from alcohol.  The timing is about right and it certainly gives me something to think about that can serve as a distraction from being sober all of the time, or from anything else that actually matters.  That's right, I just said that baseball doesn't really matter.  And it doesn't.  Not compared to Ebola or the drought or sobriety or other real life things.  I haven't lost my sense of what is really important simply because I have developed a baseball obsession.  But I do think it is my obsession with baseball that gives me the ability to cope with the things that do really matter because it gives me an out (no pun intended).  If I can focus my attention on whether or not Matt Cain will return to form in the 2015 season I can take a break from a job that is difficult and filled with pain.  If I can zone out and watch the World Series I can think about something other than the fact that my Dad is really sick.  If I am able to look foreword to Spring Training I can give myself the gift of hope, no matter how deep, dark and cold my Winter may be. If I can talk to my Dad about baseball we can share something eternal.  Something that will live beyond him and beyond me and that helps me feel like death doesn't really have to be the end of anything.

What is so funny about my baseball obsession is that it has gone even beyond my Dad at this point. Now I keep him abreast of trade rumors.  I let him know what is going on in the American League because he could care less.  I will be the one inviting him to games at Raley Field because I am the one who will have RiverCats season tickets.  I have a life that is inspired by his and a life that has also grown beyond his. Baseball may not matter.  But life does. My Dad does. So just in case you missed it the 1001 times I have posted it, here are some things really important to me and about me:

Go Giants!

Even Year Magic!

I Bleed Orange and Black!

W4K! (Win for Keith)

Don't (ever) Stop Believing!!!

and the best....

"Travis Ishikawa hits one to right.  THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT"

http://www.sbnation.com/mlb/2014/10/17/6992939/travis-ishikawa-walk-off-home-run-giants-cardinals-nlcs-world-series