Baseball, for what it is and more

In some ways -- in many ways, perhaps -- it's downright silly to devote too much time and attention to sports, any sport, and certainly baseball is included in that list. However, what I've learned over the past fourteen years or so as my interest and investment in Mets fandom has expanded and evolved, is that dedication to a baseball team is about so much more than simply the stats and debates, wins and losses, camaraderie and divisiveness born of fandom.

My grandfather passed away last night, and among the massive tangle of emotions and responses I've experienced since I learned this news just over twelve hours ago, I have felt gratitude to baseball. Throughout my childhood, my grandfather was a constant presence: he was a steady, quiet, dedicated husband, father, and grandfather. He was the first person there when you were in need, silently and without expectation of reciprocation. He seemed larger than life to me when I was much younger, and after learning more about him, he still seems that way to me today.

Still, when we met, there wasn't always a great deal to discuss. Baseball provided a constant in our lives that we shared, namely his interest in the Boston Red Sox. It is difficult to conjure an image in my mind -- or find a photograph that was taken -- in which he is not wearing the classic "B" emblem baseball cap. I learned today that the children who would visit his residence regularly referred to him as "the man with the Red Sox hat."

He wasn't always up to date on box scores and wouldn't have known StatCast from bombast, but he was always interested in the standings and the headlines. Baseball provided a point of reference, a common ground, a means of small talk that was pleasant and comfortable. When I watched the Ken Burns baseball documentary earlier this year, learning about Ted Williams sparked memories of comments my grandfather had made years ago that suddenly made more sense in the light of my new understanding of history. In some sense, learning about certain aspects of baseball history made me feel connected to my grandfather in much the same way as learning about the history of the United States Army Air Corps or previously unearthed nuggets of family history could accomplish.

There's no great revelation here. In short, baseball's roots in American history and culture as well as the personal history of a loved one provides much more than one might imagine. Selfishly, baseball provides one way for my connection to my grandfather to live on: each day, new games are played, new box scores are released, and I have the opportunity to check in, reflect, and remember. It may only represent one minor aspect of the elements that comprised the man I loved and respected, but it's enough to help me carry on, and for that, I'm grateful.