For the Love of the Game
I was a reluctant baseball fan. I did not grow up with a love of the game. In fact, I thought it was boring and pointless until the ripe old age of 25. I'm not even sure why I fell in love with the game. I mean, there was the magical Mariners' season of '95 of and all, but I didn't become a fan until 1997. In fact, when the ballot measure to fund the new stadium came up in 1995, I was soundly against it. I remember saying something along the lines of "if they won't stay here without a new stadium, then I'll personally tie a bow around the team and send them off".
But somehow, the game of baseball grew on me. Specifically, the Mariners grew on me. I fell in love with the team of 1997. Slowly, I began to watch the games, to learn the rules, and to care. We took a road trip to Glacier and Yellowstone that year and I begged sports sections off of other travelers so I could check the AL West standings. In 1999, while backpacking through Europe, I was thrilled to get a glimpse on CNN of the new Safeco Field - as much as I could see on the Ken Griffey Jr. highlight reel, anyway.
For my 30th birthday, Dave bought a block of tickets and invited my best friends out to Safeco Field. Heidi and Jen even made a Baseball Bingo game to play while we watched. I drug the same Heidi and Jen down to Arizona under the guise of a "girls' weekend" to see spring training. My 32nd birthday was on Opening Day, and Dave took the day off to take me to the game. That same year, friends of ours graciously invited us to sit in a suite with them. When I went into early labor with Peter, my prayer was that I'd make it past the date of that game. (I did).
Unfortunately, the Mariners now are not a good baseball team. In fact, there are currently the worst team in baseball, with a winning percentage so low, it is right around a great slugger's batting average. I'm afraid it may even slip below the Mendoza line.
Every April for the last few seasons, I've been surprised and a bit concerned that I wasn't chomping at the bit for baseball. I have been ho-hum about spring training, and even missed Opening Day and the first couple weeks of the season this year. Was I losing the baseball bug? Was it a phase? Even worse, was I the dreaded "Fair Weather Fan"?
Turns out the answers are no, no, and no. Even though none of the players I fell in love with play for the team anymore (I especially miss that dish-at-the-dish Dan Wilson), I still love the game. Perhaps because an entire baseball season and its 180 games are more like a marathon than a sprint, I have to warm up to the game every spring. I watch a game here and there, half-heartedly turn into the radio, worry that I'm losing my love for the game, and then - BAM - by the middle of May I'm hooked again.
Peter has always liked baseball, but he's more of my sports-guy anyway. In the past I tried to get Henry to watch the games with me, but he was glued to the commercials instead. But this year, they are both really in to the game. They ask me about rules, they have learned the players' names (if a 3-year-old saying Rauuuuuuul Ibanez! doesn't melt your heart, I don't know what will), and they even watch and listen to the games with me. I don't have to fight for TV time, or listen to the radio in a corner of the house.
This last weekend, I had a dream come true: I attended a Mariners game with my boys (and my niece and my dad), who WATCHED THE ENTIRE THING. I couldn't have been happier, or more proud.
