Baseball is Still Just a Game

When I was growing up, baseball was just a game to me. I played little league baseball and loved having a catch with my father. I would lay on my bed on summer evenings, listening to Harry Kalas give me a picture-perfect view of every ball game. A few times each year, my dad and I would make the journey to Veterans Stadium, usually on a Sunday afternoon. It was an all day event, from the moment I woke up until the time we got home. But I rarely knew their record or standings, because it was irrelevant. Baseball was always just a game.

In the mid-1990s, the Phillies were basically the laughing stock of the National League. They rarely fielded a legitimate baseball team and had only a few scattered stars. The most exciting part of every season was seeing the Phillie Phanatic ride around on his ATV, entertaining the crowds. Just a game. I knew very little about the Phillies' minor league teams, except that they existed. And I always had a naive belief that someday, my baseball skills would somehow morph into major league-quality talent.

When I was at the ball park, the sights and sounds always convinced me that baseball was just a game. I watched carefully as the players took batting practice, hitting the balls over the wall with ease. They would lob throws to each other across distances I could only dream about. The grounds crew would carefully paint chalky lines around home plate and shower the infield with water. It was all in delicate preparation for what was just a little boy's game. The public address announcer's voice would echo in the cavernous park and during the seventh inning stretch, a whimsical organ rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game would be played.

How could baseball not be a game? I knew nothing of steroids or performance-enhancing drugs. I never saw a corked bat or a pitcher with sand paper up his sleeve. I never analyzed pitch sequences or slugging percentages. There was a whole new dimension of the game that I never really knew existed. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy every statistic and intricate detail of the game I now know. But sometimes, especially when it feels like winning is most important, we can lose sight of the fact that baseball is just a game.

In the midst of yet another pennant race, Phillies fans almost certainly have a feeling of gratification and perhaps even entitlement. It has been many years since the team we love has competed consistently and made baseball more than just a game in Philadelphia. There's a week left in the season and the importance of every at bat is magnified. It's hard to have fun and enjoy baseball when championships hang in the balance. But as the season winds down, with the emphasis on winning and performing and executing, remember that baseball is still just a game.