Games and teams I cheer for

By DAVID EPPS
Contributing Writer

The Major League Baseball playoffs are here. Yawn! I don’t even know what teams have made it to the final six or final four or whatever.

I do know that the Atlanta Braves lost in the playoffs (again) but I didn’t watch even a single inning. Major League Baseball lost me as a fan and a viewer during the last of the multiple baseball strikes a few years ago. Maybe I’ll get interested again, but this year wasn’t the year. Instead, I have turned my attention to sports that are every bit as exciting as the games played by the young millionaires in the nation’s major cities.

A few weeks ago, for example, I watched my granddaughter, Jackie, who is a kindergartner, play in her second season of T-ball. T-ball is quite possibly the only sport where the batter can barely hit the ball off the stand, run the wrong way toward third instead of first, make the correction and go back to home then scoot around toward first and, before the play is over, score a home run! They don’t keep score in T-ball, which allows us to behave as though Jackie’s team has won every game.

My three elementary school age grandsons, Tristan, Sam, and Isaac, all play Little League baseball at some point during the year. With seasons in both the spring and the fall, there are many games to attend. Frankly, I am always surprised at how good the batting and fielding is and how competitive the games are. “Testosterone poisoning,” as my nursing professor wife calls the affliction and besets men from birth and gets worse as they get older, is in evidence even at this young age, as the players cheer their teammates on and razz the opponents.

The fans, mostly parents and grandparents, treat each game as though the fate of the world depends on the outcome, so, even though the screaming and cheering sometimes gets a bit heated, the excitement is there and the “crowd noise” is a factor at even the smallest fields. There’s something special about watching your kid make a great play, but there’s something magical about watching your grandchildren do well on the athletic field. Somehow, you convince yourself that it’s your genes flowing through their bodies that cause them to rise to greatness.

My oldest grandchild, Victoria, who is “Tori” to all who know her, plays softball and I’m pretty sure she could hold her own on a field with any boy her age. She’s always one of the better hitters on any team she’s been on and she loves the game. My son thinks she has inherited her abilities from him (a former high school and college football player), but I’m not so sure. Tori’s mom has a history of excelling in softball and basketball and she certainly has inherited her personality.

 Isaac has begun to play football this year and recently scored a 70-yard touchdown run that brought more excitement to me than when Tennessee whipped Georgia (last year; I don’t want to discuss this year). He’s learning to get knocked down and get right back up again, which I think is a good lesson to learn in life.

And, if all this family sports activity isn’t enough, there’s the church men’s softball team. I played in one game last year which resulted in my knees and hip hurting for two weeks, so I am now relegated to the role of loud and vocal observer. But, if there’s any way possible, I’ll be at the field to watch our men, who range in age from 21 to 50, take the field and play their hearts out. They are the guys in crimson red jerseys with gray numbers that say “Warriors” across the front. I asked one of the guys why the jerseys said “Warriors” instead of “Christ the King” and he explained that it just didn’t sound right to have the fans screaming, “C’mon, Christ the King — kill those Baptists!”

The common factor in all these games is the love that the participants have for the sport and for the excitement of competition. I like competition. I don’t understand those people that believe that competition is bad. Competition helps young people to socialize, to test their mettle, to learn to win graciously, to lose with dignity, and to plan for “next year” when hope springs anew. I also have two granddaughters who are too young for sports and two grandchildren the way, so I plan to be watching sports for a long time to come, God willing.

I may watch professional baseball again; I just don’t know. But for now, I am quite content with watching and cheering for those souls whose give everything they have and leave it all on the field — and whose faces light up when they see you among the few who came to watch them play.