I, like every hacky screenwriter and novelist, have always viewed baseball as a great metaphor for life.
For those of you who missed it yesterday, Curt Schilling had a no-hitter going into the ninth with two outs. This would have been a gem in the storied career of Mr. Bloody Sock. A no-hitter. A near-perfect performance.
So when Shannon Stewart shot a meaningless single into right field breaking up the no-hitter, I must admit - I laughed my ass off. Not because I didn't want Schilling to be rewarded for his achievement with a place in the history books. But because that moment is what life is all about. I thought to myself "Now there's a feeling I can relate to." That feeling of "almost."
Now, that may seem depressing or pessimistic view of both baseball and life. But here's the thing: the most amazing part of the story of Schilling's almost no-hitter hasn't happened yet. It happens in five days when he gets on the mound and tries again.
Life isn't perfection. Life is imperfect and hopeful and crushing and hilarious and tragic and absurd. And somehow we all find the strength to live through that disappointment and ask for the ball again when our turn in the rotation comes up.
If yesterday's game doesn't get you to love baseball, I don't know what to tell you. Thanks for the ride, Curt.
For those of you who missed it yesterday, Curt Schilling had a no-hitter going into the ninth with two outs. This would have been a gem in the storied career of Mr. Bloody Sock. A no-hitter. A near-perfect performance.
So when Shannon Stewart shot a meaningless single into right field breaking up the no-hitter, I must admit - I laughed my ass off. Not because I didn't want Schilling to be rewarded for his achievement with a place in the history books. But because that moment is what life is all about. I thought to myself "Now there's a feeling I can relate to." That feeling of "almost."
Now, that may seem depressing or pessimistic view of both baseball and life. But here's the thing: the most amazing part of the story of Schilling's almost no-hitter hasn't happened yet. It happens in five days when he gets on the mound and tries again.
Life isn't perfection. Life is imperfect and hopeful and crushing and hilarious and tragic and absurd. And somehow we all find the strength to live through that disappointment and ask for the ball again when our turn in the rotation comes up.
If yesterday's game doesn't get you to love baseball, I don't know what to tell you. Thanks for the ride, Curt.
5 Comments:
Nicely done.
Here's how Stacy and I experienced it: Bottom of the 9th, 2 outs. Keith calls me from work where he was listening to the game on the radio. Within seconds, I hear "Base hit!" as I'm looking at the TV screen with Schilling just getting ready to throw. I'm like: "WHAT base hit?" as a feeling of doom slowly creeping up. And then I see it.
Yeah, Keith actually blew the no-hitter--not Schilling.
Well played, Keith.
Nice metaphor though, Brendo. For whatever reason, that made perfect sense to me. Way to make me almost cry at work, jerk.
Yes, that no-hitter--like Schilling bleeding through his sock, and getting into the Hall of Fame with a measly 213 wins--was ALMOST reality. Couldn't have not happened to a nicer guy.
Couldn't have not happened to a nicer guy.
Yeah, I find it best to not think about athletes' personalities. Despite being insufferably pompous, he throw ball good.
he throw ball good.
If he can throw ball as good as you type sentence, we are going to win another World Series this year!
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