pat loughery

As is my custom, I went to the Opening Day game today between the Seattle Mariners and Texas Rangers. Every year, I get together with a few good friends and we enjoy the hope and new life that baseball brings.

I know that baseball isn’t the most exciting game for a lot of folks – some actually call it boring! And, compared to the other major US sports – football, basketball, hockey, it probably is. But to me, that’s the beauty of the game.

I used to be a huge NBA fan. My wife and I went to dozens of games a year (especially during the Shawn Kemp – Gary Payton days). I cried when Dikembe Mutombo and the Denver Nuggets upset the Seattle Sonics in ’94. But I haven’t been as much of a fan in recent years – the game turned away from teamwork to focus on the individual both in play and in marketing. There was more emphasis on the flash and less on substance. Dunks became way cooler than outside shooting; defense gave way to Sportscenter highlights. Arenas pump flashy lights and sound urging people to cheer at the proper (and other) times. Ticket prices drove the working class fan into the upper decks. And this doesn’t even begin to discuss the shameful back-room dealmaking that’s underway as the Seattle Sonics are moving to Oklahoma City because commissioner David Stern and owner Clay Bennett have a clear agenda that they’re following to bring the NBA to Oklahoma.

I also used to be a huge NFL fan. As a kid, I met an Oakland Raider player and was a fan until we moved to Seattle as adults. My wife and I had season tickets to the Seahawks back in the Kingdome days. We had cheap tickets – the cheapest, in fact – in the top level of the end zone. That place was loud and crazy. But the NFL is actually more fun to watch on TV than in person – the corporate marketing and the frequent commercial breaks kill the pace of the game when you’re actually there. True, there’s a great buzz when the team’s doing well, but those commercials – they’re brutal. And the view on TV is so much better. The game feels like it’s not so stop-and-start on TV as well.

I didn’t grow up a baseball fan, but when I moved to Seattle I got to see Ken Griffey, Jr. and Randy Johnson in their primes. I saw Alex Rodriguez begin his career here. I remember parking my car in eastern Washington on a little bluff that got decent radio reception to listen to Chris Bosio’s no-hitter. I saw The Double of ’95; I was in the Kingdome in ’95 for the single-game playoff against the Angels (taking a day off of following Phish tour the northwest that year). Even with frustrating recent moves, I still love the game.

I love the pace of the game the most.  It’s unhurried, even in its most exciting moments.  It doesn’t suffer much from commercial breaks.  A game takes as long as it takes to play – never more, never less.  It is filled with shading, nuance, hidden complexity.  It is a long, long season,  in which pretty much everybody has winning and losing streaks; pretty much everybody has to deal with veterans aging and youngsters chomping at the bit.  It evolves slowly, naturally.  Its tidal rhythms allow for conversation with your friends, even as you’re intensely watching to see whether the pitcher will throw his slider next, or noticing the left fielder move in a few steps to respond to a light hitting infielder coming to bat.  Individual games don’t really reveal all that much – everybody gets blown out; everybody will have a gigantic win.  But themes develop, a season takes shape with flavor and character, and highlight moments will come to mind for years.

I think that early on in my faith journey, I had elements of the NBA – flash, glitz, glamour – in my path.  We had great success in things we did, ministries we lead.  We were appreciated, honored.  I can’t really say that it went to our heads, but there was a sense of visibility and celebration.

I’ve also had parts of my journey that felt like an NFL game:  stops and starts, large gaps that were counterproductive and empty.

I’m hoping these days that my faith will more and more take the pace of the long baseball season:  even in ups and downs, wins and losses, that the nuances, the little things, the details, will become the important part, and that my perspective will move from the daily wins and losses to the impact of a whole season – or a bunch of seasons.