“The game of
(base) ball is glorious”
“…Baseball is a lot like
Its followers put their faith and
hope in uncontrollable forces in search of fulfillment and inner joy….
Baseball is about coming home.
The whole point of the game is to finish where you begin – home plate – and
once you are home you are finally safe."
James Penrice, The Spiritual Lessons of
my beginning is my end…
is where one starts from…
my end is my beginning.”
-T. S. Eliot, “East Coker”
“Your grandfather once told me it was ok to think about
what you want to do until it was time to start doing what you were meant to do.”
- The Rookie
So where does one get the authentic sense of
purpose and identity? What event during one’s younger years sparks that
flame to burn and cast a true light as to where one should be headed. Who
created that spark? What was the point of this spark in the first place? Why does
this flame make everything crystal clear and yet still muddy the waters of
one’s own desires and notions about what and where one should be? Could there
be more than one flame or more than one source? Would another flame appear if
one burned out? Is there any end to the sparks?
Was that youth recreation baseball coach some
angelic spirit in human disguise? How did he get here? What was his purpose? Why
did he busy himself with encouraging his young charges to be authentic, free to
be one’s self, joyful and be in the moment? How did time become no time?
Seizing the day, the moment never seemed to be so real did it? How did winning
and losing evaporate and get carried away by some sacred breeze?
Who would have thought that the smell of
linseed oil on leather would replace that of incense? Who would have believed
that the 108 stitches on a baseball would coincidentally be the same number as
Buddhist prayer beads or two mysteries of the Catholic Rosary?
Was this the great lesson that could not be
taught or understood in school and churches? Were the players who were selected
identified by some greater spirit as needing to learn the lesson of
unconditional love for self and others, truth, authenticity, faith and
integrity by playing this game for this coach ?
And by the way when did the last two words of
the National Anthem become “Play Ball?”
Can I hear an "Amen?"
is called - Grantland Rice
Game Called. Across the field of play
the dusk has come, the hour is late.
The fight is done and lost or won,
the player files out through the gate.
The tumult dies, the cheer is hushed,
the stands are bare, the park is still.
But through the night there shines the light,
home beyond the silent hill.
Game Called. Where in the golden light
the bugle rolled the reveille.
The shadows creep where night falls deep,
and taps has called the end of play.
he game is done, the score is in,
the final cheer and jeer have passed.
But in the night, beyond the fight,
the player finds his rest at last.
Game Called. Upon the field of life
the darkness gathers far and wide,
the dream is done, the score is spun
that stands forever in the guide.
Nor victory, nor yet defeat
is chalked against the players name.
But down the roll, the final scroll,
shows only how he played the game
- Grantland Rice
People will come – Field of Dreams
Dream- Field of Dreams
Farewell Moonlight – Fields of Dreams
Hey Dad Wanna
Catch? – Field of Dreams
the love of the game- Just Throw
Natural - Ending
( Dedicated to Coach B who taught me to let
go , be present and be myself - to live , work and play with joy and love. I still
have my youth baseball glove at hand to help me remember to remember.
I always loved having a catch with my
daughters. You ladies are the best! Get out your gloves for our next get
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