Something hapenened this week that was a great example of how important baseball is to real life and how it mirrors real life. An Umpire missed a call. The story should have ended right there. A human being made a mistake.
Baseball is a timeless game. No clock running. Played by two sets of individuals who are human, who sometimes are successful, and most times not. It is guided by human beings. Those in the supervising aspect of the game make wrong decisions. it is the most human of any endeavor in reallife.
When an umpire misses a call, and i say it is so rare, it may or may not effect the outcome of that particular game. But if it does, another game is played within one or two days. it is truly a lesson of pcking ourselves up and moving on with real life.
With TV contracts, unqualified people becoming owners and even commissioners, we are watching the gran old game fall a victim to the same fate of all the other sports. When it becomes automated, what do we have to look forward to? Do we slip a tape in and watch the super-graphics?
I am sorry the young pitcher was deprived of the honor of pitching a perfect game. But in its inperfection, Baseball can continue to be the perfect game.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
We were in California last week for my Grand mother's memorial service. Many of her grand children stood up and offered a memory of her. She was a dancer for many years. Ballroom champion as a matter of fact. I remember she was so happy when ballroom dancing was made a demonstration sport at the Atlanta Olympics.
She was a princess, all of her life. She demanded attention every time she walked into the room. These were a few of my thoughts from last week....
My grand mother was a dancer, a baker (her lemon bars were great), she sewed much of the costumes for her dance group, the Strutters, in her 90s.
She was born a Catholic. She did not follow the religion by their book. But she would never turn away from that religion. But, she was one woman who transcended her religion and had a tremendous faith. She was a prayer warrior. As I lost my religion, so to speak, she continued to pray for me. Her prayers were answered. In her last days, as the system was shutting down, she cried out to God. I asked her if she loved God and believed that Christ was her Savior. She knew she was dying and she made her peace with God.
She was wittty until the end. I did not get my love for sports from her. However, we shared a good sense of humor. I wont live to be 101. But we all can learn to live a life for god for as long as we do have from Bea Bea, my grand ma Bea.
Posted by Yarmouth House at 3:03 PM