There's something uniquely Midwestern to me about
baseball. I know the same game is played all over the country, and I'm
sure there are plenty of people who feel that there's something uniquely
"New York" or "Boston" about the game to them... but none of the games
I've gone to in the Bronx or Queens have, for me, quite captured that
same innocent joy, bonding of families, warmth, and sense of camaraderie
(along with that wonderful energy buzz, of course) that I remember the
Triple-A Indianapolis Indians games always encapsulated throughout my
childhood. (In fact, my experience of Yankees games has always involved
listening to a lot of field-aimed cursing from angry fans and people
purposely stepping on my feet and pushing me when they realized I was
(quietly) rooting for the visiting Detroit Tigers -- and plenty of other
people
accidentally stepping on my feet and pushing me.... I
would like to think these were isolated occurrences, but the young woman
we once encountered on our way in who told me she's physically scared
to go to Yankees games wearing her logo shirt for another team because
she thinks she'd be beat up for it makes me doubt that....)
One
particular little boy at the game I went to the other day -- only the
second Indianapolis Indians game I've made it to in the last few years
-- brought back all the warm feelings of how baseball has the ability to
bring out the joy of childhood wonder, fun, and kindness in all of us,
regardless of age....
As my parents and I found our way
down to our seats on the third base line on the chilly, overcast day with
a largely empty ballpark, we saw a little boy around six there with his
mom, both decked out in Indians jerseys and caps. The boy was gloved
and clearly in the middle of pitching an amazing imaginary game in the
row in front of ours. He hid the imaginary ball behind his back,
checked the imaginary runner at first, looked back to the imaginary
batter, narrowed his eyes in determined focus... and then made a
fantastic play picking off the imaginary runner at first. His mom
cheered him and said, "Great pick-off, Xavier!" as my parents and I
laughed and took our seats behind them.
Xavier, clearly
excited for the game to start, continued to talk and bounce around and
play imaginary baseball. Once the game started, there was no fan in the ballpark more
devoted and involved than this tiny boy, who cheered
every play and never sat down for more than a few seconds at a time.
Not long into the game, his young mom turned around to us and said, "I
apologize in advance if he's making too much noise. He's really
excited. He loves baseball. We give him the option of this or Chuck E.
Cheese's and he chooses a baseball game every time."
We assured
her that her son was delightful, not obnoxious, and based on the smiles
Xavier's joy and excitement elicited from complete strangers throughout
the game, it was clear everyone around agreed, too.... At the end of the
first half-inning, Xavier stood up and waved his tiny glove to get a
ball as the Indians walked to the dugout. Of course, he could barely be
seen over the wall, so his mom stood up and waved her glove, too, next
to him, and as soon as the catcher saw Xavier, he smiled and tossed the
ball to his mom. As she handed it to her son, a large section of men to
our left erupted into cheers for him. "Way to go!" "You got a ball!"
they shouted. My dad high-fived him and the boy had the biggest smile
on his face as strangers congratulated him.
A real
ball, of course, also meant that his imaginary game, which he was
intermittently pitching alongside the real game in front of him, could
now have a non-imaginary prop, but his mom quickly nixed that.
"Nuh-uh. You're going to lose control of the ball and hit someone."
"I can only throw a real ball at home, right Mom?" he asked.
"Right."
"Okay," he replied contentedly, quickly ducking and turning from imaginary pitcher to catcher.
"Hey are you pitching or catching?" the security guard at the door to the field asked laughingly.
The boy turned to him and quickly tossed him the imaginary ball.
"Oof! Got it" the man said, tossing it back.
And
so the two engaged in a game of imaginary toss, the security guard with
a huge grin on his face, Xavier with a look of deep concentration on
his, making sure his ball hit its mark every time.
Eventually
the security guard grabbed his shoulder. "Aww, my shoulder's getting
sore from all this throwing!" he said with a smile.
"That's okay!" Xavier replied, returning his attention to the on-field action with gusto.
A
few innings into the game, Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" started
playing, and the big screen on the scoreboard showed kids in the stands
who were dancing. And of course Xavier stood up and started "shaking it
off" better than all of them. And sure enough, a cameraman rushed over
and stayed on him longer than anyone else. A man across the aisle shook
his head and smiled.
"A ball and on the TV! It's your day!"
"Wanna
see the ball?" Xavier asked, picking it up and walking over to the man
to show it to him (definitely not something I would encourage a child at
Yankee Stadium to do), while his mom called her husband to tell him
about the TV moment, handing the phone to Xavier when he returned with
the ball. "I got to be on the TV shaking it off!" he declared proudly.
"And I got a ball!" (It was the only time the mom's phone came out --
and in fact one of only two times I saw a phone in the crowd during the
entire game, both of which were phone calls rather than texting or
internet browsing.)
In fact, Xavier didn't get just
one ball. A couple innings later, a player tossed him another. He
looked at his mom, his brow furrowed in consternation. "But I already
have one."
"So why don't you share it?"
"Okay!"
he declared, his problem solved. He looked around, and seeing no kids
nearby, ran up the steps to a man in his 30s and handed him the ball,
saying, "Here. I caught this. I already have one," and quickly returned
to his seat, leaving the shocked man holding the ball. After a few
beats, the man walked down and bent next to Xavier and said with a
smile, "Thank you for this. That was very kind of you. I want you to
know I'm going to give this to my son as soon as I get home."
"You know why I did it -- I did it 'cause I already got one, and I don't need two," Xavier explained.
"Well, thank you. I really appreciate your sharing," the man said, and he returned to his seat.
There's
this great thing called karma, and just because Xavier wasn't taking
any more balls didn't mean there weren't any more souvenirs for him to
collect. He soon added an Indians T-shirt to his collection (tossed
from the field) and an autograph on his baseball cap from Rowdie the
mascot (who is supposedly a bear, but I think it's more likely that
he's either a rat or a racoon or there was a massive mix-up at the
costume shop and they just said, "Hey, let's go with it -- he's already
bright red and that doesn't make any sense anyway"... but I digress).
Unfortunately, he didn't catch a third ball, which he wanted so he could
give it to a little boy he spotted sitting by himself. When his big,
expressive eyes landed on the boy, they filled with sadness and
curiosity and he told his mom, "I should have given the ball to that
boy."
"If we catch another, you can give it to him," she said.
He nodded, his eyes lingering on the boy for a few moments.
Things
have a way of taking care of themselves sometimes, and before the game
was over, that solitary boy caught a ball of his own. Xavier burst out
in applause, a big smile on his face as he tapped his mom and pointed
to the boy happily.
A bit later, Xavier asked, "Hey, Mom, what would happen if I went on the field?"
"I think they would throw you out."
"But why? They're on the field," he said, pointing to the players.
"Yeah, but they've won a lot of games. You have to win a lot of games to play on this field."
"But I have won a lot! I've won FIVE!" he said, his eyes big as he thought about what a huge number five is.
"Yeah... but that's T-ball, bud."
"Oh,"
he replied, pondering the explanation and apparently deciding to accept
it for the time being. He was aided in this by the light mist picking
up and turning into a sprinkle.
"Do you want to leave?" his mom asked.
"Why?" he replied, dumbfounded at the question.
"Because it's raining, and the Indians are winning."
And just like that, the Indians weren't winning any more.
"Now
it's tied," he said. "And people don't like it when it's tied. They
get worried when it's tied. But it seems perfect. Because now everyone
can win."
"Everyone can win?"
"Yeah, both teams win. Both teams are happy."
"Makes sense," his mom said, smiling and nodding.
They
stayed through the light rain, and Xavier continued to be a one-boy
cheering section in the seriously thinned-out crowd (in between
occasionally showing his caught ball to strangers). When a concessions vendor came over as the boy cheered a great play, the man stopped and
grinned and said, "Are you gonna be a player too one day?"
"I am one! I play T-ball!" Xavier declared proudly.
"Yeah?
You know what? I don't think you're just gonna be a player. I think
you're gonna be an owner. I think we got ourselves a future baseball
team owner right here. That's right, you're gonna be the man in
charge. This here's a team owner. And I'm gonna be able to say I knew
you when!"
Xavier tossed him the imaginary ball in
response. The concessions vendor tossed it back a few times, and as he
moved on, said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a future team owner.
Yes, sir."
I agree. And I hope that
somewhere in all of us, even if it's buried deep down, we all retain the
infectious joy in life, eagerness to share and connect, empathy with
others, and love of imagination and play that Xavier has.
