0319blog

Play Ball

I have one goal in post pandemic life and that is to reconnect and totally immerse myself with sports on the scholastic, college and professional levels and I don’t care if it’s Major League Baseball, Somerset Patriots, football, tennis, squash, soccer, wrestling, rugby, horseshoes, curling, bowling, archery, golf, gymnastics, track and field, skiing, hockey, lacrosse, weightlifting, motocross racing, cricket, surfing, snowboarding, quidditch, rock climbing, white water rafting, boxing, fencing, billiards, pool, foosball, dressage, horse racing, spear fishing, big game fishing, frisbee, juggling, handball, squash, figure skating, speed skating, hang gliding, parachuting, badminton, platform tennis, polo, steer wrestling, bronco busting, marathon running, triathlons, yacht racing, luge, ski jumping, bobsledding, field hockey,hurling, shinty, swimming, cliff diving, formula racing, bungee jumping, wheelchair basketball, roller derby, snowboarding, arm wrestling, thumb wrestling, ping pong, axe throwing, volleyball, rowing or log rolling and anything and everything in between.

The COVID-19 pandemic took all of this away from me, quite literally as entire seasons were canceled or abbreviated, great athletes were stricken, bowl games were put on hold and championships seemed trivial in light of the plague. And I have not watched a sports contest for one year because it was too painful to see and know that it all had been taken away from me and I just can’t have that happen again. I have never had a drought so long and I am very, very thirsty.

For the first time in much of my life, I did not travel to the cathedrals either in reality or long distance, to practice my religion, to transport me out of my aging, sagging and no longer supple body. I did not know who played in the World Series, let alone watch it; the Super Bowl came and went and I was altogether ignorant of the teams; my beloved U.S. Open Tennis, Wimbledon, French Open, Australian Open, all were out of my sight; the NBA championships could have been a battle between the Knicks and Nets, for all I knew and Spud Webb could have been the series MVP; the NCAA final four might have been County College of Morris, Thomas Edison College, Montclair State University and Donald Trump University, I didn’t have a clue. It was painful, very nearly excruciating not to watch, not to keep up with the teams and the most valuable players and the arguments about calls on the playing field, but it would have been worse to watch my beloved contests while knowing that they didn’t represent the best athletes, because of the pandemic. And that is the essence, to see the best, most well-tuned, well-oiled human machines compete for the loving cup.

Sports have defined me, sports have leveled the playing field, so to speak, sports have welcomed me and sports have nourished and comforted me and transported me away from a world that was at once frightening, intimidating and prosaic.

There was a show on ABC called “Wide World of Sports,” which aired from April 29, 1961, until the final show on Jan. 3, 1998, and which featured lesser-known and somewhat archaic or unconventional sports like sumo wrestling for women or logrolling, it didn’t matter, I soaked it in like a sponge, was enthralled and captivated and smiled a great deal. I didn’t care and still don’t care if the ball is small as a cue ball or as big as a basketball, whether it is played in the blistering sun or atop the Alps, whether it involves a one on one match or 11 gladiators on a side. I love it all. I will never forget Jim McKay’s introduction to each show, as he uttered the words like they were a prayer, “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport… the thrill of victory… and the agony of defeat… the human drama of athletic competition… This is ABC’s Wide World of Sports!”

Sports gave me a common language, triggered common memories, offered common insights. It allowed me to overcome shortcomings, cross personal chasms and to step away from the daily concerns that hassle me, frighten me, confuse me, repulse me, concern me, anger me, demand of me.

I am ready to re-enter the world and to once more bathe in its redemptive scenery, ready again to allow myself to travel away from the daily reality and drudgery, ready again to fantasize and to argue, to judge and to discard, I am ready to once again pontificate. I am ready. I want to pay my money, pass through the turn style, settle into the hard stadium seat, shield my eyes from the brilliant sunshine, somehow hold my watered-down beer and sausage and onion sandwich without spilling or dropping either while a group of five fans squeezes past me for their seats, while I crane my neck to look out on the emerald green field of the Somerset Patriots, now the New York Yankees Double-A Affiliate team and watch these boys of summer compete. I am ready. I am ready to become whole again, at least for a little while, to re-enter that world where disassociation from the pain is not only permitted but encouraged. I am ready.