Baseball & God

By Bill Ribas

We’ve all seen it – the player connects with the bat, trots down to first, makes the turn, and on the way back, a few quick hand gestures like he’s talking to a deaf person, then the kiss to the hands, the look to the heavens, the slight head tilt, all saying thank you God, thank you for this single. I can’t remember when this change occurred, but it is here to stay. Perhaps it’s more prominent in the Latin players, but it’s something that is visible across the board. Personally, it drives me nuts. My own religious beliefs aside, imagine if God were upstairs, running through his to do list for the day – he’s got an earthquake in Japan, a typhoon in China, there are myriad murders going on, and now, some guy named Hernandez is on line 3 thanking Him for a single in the second of a meaningless game. This is not a playoff game, just some throwaway between a couple basement dwellers, but allow me to just cut in for a second God, put that suicidal kid on hold, I have to say thanks for letting that 6 and 13 pitcher toss me a curve that didn’t break so I could line it to left. Does this not bother anyone else?
 
If we pull back just a bit, and examine the player’s life – that he’s been playing ball since he was a little kid, say, oh, 6 years old, and working tirelessly every day to become more proficient at his craft, than such a gesture can be seen as mocking the heavens. Imagine the hours, for example, spent in the cage, swinging the bat, the time put in developing a swing, the games, through little league, the minors, winter ball, and through the majors – do you think a Texas Leaguer, a bloop single, really merits a nod upstairs? I think not. Imagine instead some sort of Pro-Am game, a promotion before some minor league game, where a fat, middle aged slob like myself does not embarrass his family in the stands, but instead clocks a ball 490 feet the opposite way into the cheap seats, and has the crowd gasping. That incident, which of course, would never happen, would merit some sort of gesture, and probably a bit of speaking in tongues as well.
 
Like all antics, whether it be a celebration in the end zone, a high five, whatever, there will come a time when the theatrics of the gesture will need to be kicked up a notch. Given the religious bent of the current baseball blessing, one can only imagine where it will go. Will the first base coach have an incense burner at his side, so that he can swing it back and forth in anticipation of the single? Will a baby need to be held aloft after a line drive, like the Lion King, showing the crowd where the player stands? Will there be some sort of ritual sacrifice, like cutting the head off a chicken? And will the gestations change with the results? Will netting a double or getting an RBI call for some sort of spiritual dancing? Will a third base coach be counting rosary beads in hopes of a successful steal of second?
 
It’s not my intention to mock religion – if you believe fine, if you don’t, fine. I think the larger question though is, should you be thanking the Almighty for something you’ve been doing most of your life? If that’s the case, then what happens after you down your eggs and toast in the morning? Point to the sky? When you drive to work, and get there without incident, should you be gesturing with your hands to the heavens? Where do you draw the line? Taking a dump? Certainly, there are times when I’ve dropped some friends off at the pool that I’ve been grateful, but should I have thanked someone in particular?
 
I’ve gotten into arguments with more devout people than myself, and they say I’m making too much of an issue out of it, that it’s a nice thing to do, but I disagree. If you start pandering to higher powers over something you should be doing as a matter of course, you’re lowering the bar. Imagine, for a second, thanking your boss after you successfully punch in at work in the morning, a kind of, thanks boss, I couldn’t have done it without you. You think he’s going to put the Henderson account in your hands, or give it to that other junior account exec, the one that wears the bad ties but is always laughing? I don’t doubt the singles hitters are grateful they got on base, don’t get me wrong. It just bothers me that they’re deferring their abilities some other place, as if they didn’t have a hand in their success. You don’t get to the majors just sitting on the couch drinking beer and watching tee vee, and I’m certainly proof of that. But it does bother this couch potato when he sees some player looking up at the sky as if for a second, there was no way that single would have happened without some sort of divine intervention. That’s all I’m saying.