The Elusive (2)

Baseball playoffs start today.

Do they matter? Truly?

Of course not. Right?

Impossible.

The Elusive: Meaning

Nothing I enjoy as much as I enjoy the baseball playoffs can be truly meaningless. Am I proud that, for the next month or so I will care more about baseball than the Afghan War, mid-term elections, or state of public education? No, not particularly, but I should care more than I do.

Here's a quick story. I was living in Hermosa Beach, CA, just south of LA. I would leave my apartment before the sun rose (and mutated in the oppressive smog to a pallid, straw-like shine), and return after it set to work a so-so job in Burbank (more than an hour's drive in the traffic). This was 2008, so the Phillies (my team of choice) were working their way toward a World Series championship. Before that year I would have thought myself as likely to see a unicorn grazing in Fairmont park as see the Phillies win a championship. Lo and behold the impossible happened. I suppose I threw a penny in the right fountain sometime (that or a decade long roster building plan came to fruition.) Anyway, the games started around 8pm eastern everyday, which meant I was catching most of every game on the radio in my truck. I must have looked a little crazy clapping, yelling, and stirring up the dog hair that clung to every bit of seat and dashboard after each hit or strike out. Yeah, it probably looked a little like a snow globe in the cab of that GMC, but it was the baseball playoff time.
                - at the moment the games have just started (3hours til Phillies v Reds, game 2), I've got the games on MLB.com, and in the excitement I can't keep my legs still (Tampa Bay has loaded the bases vs. Texas)-
                 I did something kind of crazy during world series game 5. The game had been delayed in the early innings due to rain so, when it started the next day, it was already half over. I had a portion of game to catch and, considering the possibility of the impossible, at least wanted to see hell freeze over on TV. Because that's just the kind of thing that's hard to catch streaming online.(update: TB fails to drive in a run)
                  As much as I could in the legendary so cal traffic I rushed home. I threw the truck into park in the middle of the street next to Barnacles, the sports bar next to my place, put my flashers on, and ran inside to catch the final two outs on TV. When it was over, and the Phillies won, I screamed like a little girl and roared like a lion (Texas scores TB-0 TX-1) and probably pissed a whole lot of people off.

Why?

Sure, I grew up loving the team, and the game. But, I only played it through 10th grade, when I couldn't see the value of another cortisone shot in my shoulder, and only on the JV team. There is a lot of Philadelphia minority complex that clandestinely influences all of my experiences, but that is no excuse. Many, many more important things will happen today than the Philles v. Reds game, or the Yankees and Twins, and certainly the Rays and Rangers (TB-0 TX-2). Here I am though, unable to work, consumed, and waiting for another moment of emotion so strong that I'll park my car in moving traffic just to see it.

Yet, I think twice before volunteering my time to charity, and every morning I step over the homeless man that sleeps on the corner of my street.