I am a girl who loves her baseball. Like obsessively, amazingly, devours the game. I just love it. And anyone who says baseball is boring just doesn’t get it. They can go hand out with the people who don’t get why Pretty Little Liars is also a bit of genius. (Oh, A, you clever devil!)
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| Amazing seats in 2006 let me snag this up-close photo of Jeter. |
But back to the task at hand…as I watched Derek Jeter get his 3000th hit today (albeit from the comfort of my couch, though would have killed to be at the stadium) I was so overwhelmed with excitement and tears and emotion. There’s just something about watching history-in-the-making, about seeing someone achieve and surpass their goals and live out their dreams that inspires me. Full body chills. Full on tears of happiness. Full on hooting and hollering in my living room as the ball sailed over the leftfield fence and Jeter broke into a grin. I can’t even fathom what it must feel like to not only live your dream, but to literally hit it out of the ballpark.
I’ve been a baseball fan since I was a kid. My mom and I started watching it together and it became not only another special “thing” that her and I did together, like playing canasta and watching episodes of Dynasty and Hotel, which we actually called Hot-el. I’m guessing the fact that I was exposed to a lot of Crystal and Alexis cat-fights with some James Brolin and Connie Sellecca on the side, during my super impressionable junior high years, probably explains my current addiction to any soap-y, remotely cheesy TV show. But baseball was one of the first things, outside of my dolls and reading that I can remember become truly engrossed in.
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| The actual Polaroid of me getting Mookie's autograph at the Galleria Mall. Check out that snazzy grey purse. And the feathered hair of the guy in the background. |
We went to Mets games and to baseball card shows. I clipped out stories from the newspapers and made scrapbooks. I went to signings, collecting autographs from Keith Hernandez and Tim Teufel and my hero, Mookie Wilson. My parents and I tuned into games on Channel 9 daily. I got to see Dwight Gooden pitch in his rookie season. And when the Mets won the World Series in 1986 I remember the sheer excitement of *my* team winning. It was a dream season. And somewhere in there, when the Mets came back in an almost unbelievable fashion in that World Series, it seemed like anything was possible. It was the perfect piece of hope every kid should have and I still get excited when I watch clips from that series.
Many years later, after many years in Boston (and a period of rooting for the home team and for Johnny Damon and witnessing the epic 2004 World Series win and an amazing parade), I was back in New York and (gasp!) found myself becoming a Yankee fan. Now if you’re not a baseball fan the significance of all this may be lost on you. Long story short the Yankees and Red Sox have been archenemies since pretty much the beginning of baseball time. Curse of the Bambino and on and on. But being a Sox fan and then a Yankee fan is very controversial (pop in Fever Pitch for a glimpse).
Boston certainly reignited all my old passions (going to games, following the players and getting completely emotionally involved in wins and losses). But being back in New York was in so many ways like being a kid all over again. I lived with my parents for a bit, while I got settled and looked for a place, and my mom and I once again found ourselves bonding over baseball.
After Damon joined the Yankees in 2005 (at which point I knew it was okay that I crossed over too) it was nearly impossible for me to not get totally engrossed in the game. Going to games at Yankee Stadium is a whole different animal. I’ve had the good fortune to go to games at the old and the new stadium (including opening day in 2008….unreal!). My old job had the perk of scoring me free seats and one of my best friends, a life-long Yankee fan, had the same perk. I once again found myself obsessively watching games and reading articles in the paper, gobbling up info and educating myself on Yankee history. I brought my camera to every game, committed to marking all the moments. I even managed to get my mom to a game, which wound up being a ridiculously long game on a 100-degree day. Luckily we had passes to the air-conditioned clubhouse where we could cool off and had premium seats that were in the shade.
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| Dusk over the new stadium. |
And as anyone who has ever seen a live version of something they love knows (be it sports or concerts or an author reading) I find there’s a certain energy at these events that I desperately wish I could bottle. There’s nothing like being in *that* moment of a game - walk-off wins, homeruns, amazing plays. It’s a crazy rush. And I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve truly had one.
But then just this morning I was reading an article and the author was saying that you could find inspiration in anything, whether it’s a conversation you’re having with a friend, or a movie or something you see just walking down the street.
For me, that feeling was off the charts today.
Watching Jeter’s 3000th hit was epic. After the excitement simmered down they interviewed Jeter’s dad who, beaming with pride, said that Derek gets to go out every day and have fun doing what he loves. This totally hit home because, let’s be honest, that’s all I want to do. (Isn’t that all anyone wants to do?) To spend my days having fun at a job I love. Because I do truly believe that when you’re doing what you love, there is an element of fun in the hard work. And even though the work will have daunting days, the passion for doing what you love will help to keep pushing you forward.
Watching the game made me want to start writing, right then and there. The idea of seeing my dreams be a reality (my name in print again, my book on a shelf, the money in the bank a result of my writing) is starting to consume me. It’s no secret I’ve been derailed a bit lately and have been trying to figure out how to merge my dream with my reality. How to make my dream my reality. How to find the courage to take the risk because as my dad said, there are no guarantees, but that I won’t know until I try. But he also knows that I’ll be happier doing something I love. (It’s like my dad is Jeter’s dad…see…I’m connecting the dots!)
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