Safe at Home

William R. Colagrande, MS

Now that World Series time is upon us, it’s a good time to consider the popularity of our national pastime. Since its humble origins in Hoboken, NJ back in 1846, baseball has never been far from our national consciousness; it is, in many ways, a metaphor of life itself.

First off, it’s a very democratic sport in that people of all shapes and sizes can compete successfully: one needn’t be seven feet tall or weigh three hundred pounds in order to excel. There are no clocks involved; things unfold over the course of a few hours as they see fit. Played mostly outdoors in mild weather, it is a joy to behold in person (albeit an expensive one), on TV or listening over the radio. (On warm summer evenings, listening on my car radio, I can pick up games from Boston, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Chicago and Baltimore.)

Baseball has a definite air of civility about it. There is no need for rules that prohibit unsportsmanlike conduct, such as attempting to intentionally injure an opponent or taunt/denigrate him in some fashion. Admittedly, this is due at least in part to a certain self-policing aspect of the game, where anyone who steps out of line is likely to find himself shortly ducking out of the way of a ninety-five-mph fastball. There were more team animosities in times past, back in the pre-free agency days when teams remained more or less intact over time, but that is no longer the case.

Baseball is unique in that when the one team is on the field, most of the opposing team is sitting on the bench, off of the field of play. This accentuates the delicate balance between individual player and team player. Often an individual player is called upon to sacrifice himself for the good of the team, as when bunting, taking pitches or attempting to advance a base runner by hitting behind him. The individual player sacrifices his personal goals and achievements for the good of the team. Often, in my work with couples, I make this analogy, for it is critical to maintaining a healthy relationship. In a strong marriage, one is often called upon to give over, whether it is to forego being “right,” acquiesce in a compromise or merely to remain silent, to sacrifice his/her own personal desires or impulses for the greater good of the team. Marriages that thrive don’t do so because they argue any less than others; they do so because, among other things, they view themselves as a team and, in facing life’s challenges as a team, build a mutual sense of trust, confidence and loyalty to each other.

Baseball’s essential competitive quality also serves as a great example of how not to live your life. For example, I strive to achieve a certain equanimity, a balance in my life, where I endeavor to view and experience everything without grasping for some things while attempting to push others away. Where baseball is concerned, however, I am a miserable failure. Many people know me as a Mets fan, but the real truth is that I have loved the Giants since the day my father allowed me to stay home from school in 1954 and listen to the World Series on the radio. My problem is that I have such a strong sense of identification with the Giants that I literally don’t enjoy following their games: when they’re winning I’m on edge because they may soon falter and when they’re losing I’m grumpy because they’re not playing better. Even after they’ve won, I experience only the grim realization that tomorrow I’ll have to go through the whole process all over again.

One year I actually tried to swear off them, much as an addict would drugs, but to no avail. I did eventually come to a pseudo-solution, adopting the Mets as a stepchild about whom I am more philosophical, while my own flesh and blood child breaks my heart from three thousand miles away. At least if I have to get so completely caught up the world of dualism, of winners and losers, good and bad, darkness and light, it’s in the relatively harmless arena of baseball and serves as an ever-present learning tool in my personal development.

I mentioned my father earlier. It may come as no surprise that he was an avid Giants fan, though he gave up on them after they left for the West coast. My father was old school, and in many ways growing up around him was not the proverbial day at the beach. But he loved baseball and so did I and as an interest that we shared it became the basis of a strong bond between us. Even as I got older and was out on my own, there was always that shared interest, a bond we both experienced when the topic of baseball invariably arose. It is something I’ve always felt very grateful for.

Baseball is a great way to teach youngsters valuable life skills, such as perseverance, goal setting, sportsmanship, cooperation, and learning to handle winning and losing gracefully. Because it is a relatively slow paced game, it is easier to see what leads to success and what to failure, which helps make it a good teaching mechanism. Important life lessons can be identified and reinforced in concrete and tangible terms. That practicing the fundamentals, learning new skills and making adjustments to varying circumstances is a lifelong, engaging and rewarding process is no less evident in and important to baseball as it is to successful living. Play ball!

2006

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I’m always interested in hearing your comments and feedback on my essays. You can send them to be by e-mailing bill@i4hd.com