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This past month I’ve taken a lot of time away from the computer and television and spent it outside, mostly at ball games trying to enjoy the real elements of baseball. Coming back to internet and technology was bound to happen and in fact got hard to avoid. But, while it was away I enjoyed the non-communication that factored in to the change. I went to a lot of ballgames by myself and reconnected with a game I felt I was starting to lose.

My decision to try this stemmed from a book I read a while ago, called The Glory of Their Times by Lawrence S. Ritter. Over a year ago when I first started this blog, it was the first book review I posted. The book encompasses purity of the game. It’s full of first person narratives from some of the legends that have passed through this game. My favorite chapters are at the beginning – Fred Snodgrass, Rube Marquard, Al Bridwell… the men who epitomize the very reason baseball is so important to me. To them, baseball was the only life they knew.

After watching a season so dismal from my hometown team, the Chicago Cubs, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I never want baseball to be something that angers me and I never want it to be something I resent. The combination of bad play and frustrated fans was slowly starting to affect me. Game after game I sat through with my friends – the commentating, heckling, analyzing… the negativity… I couldn’t stand it. I’d sit there and listen to the man behind me ramble on and on about how so-and-so needs to be fired, how this-and-that guy don’t care about baseball and just want to be paid. It made me sick. Too much talking… too many opinions. Too much complaining. What happened to watching baseball? I started losing it… the one thing in this crazy world that saves me and now I can’t even think straight and enjoy it while I was there. I had more than enough – of the media, of casual fans, know it all fans, bloggers, everything – and I decided to channel my inner 1900’s soul and do baseball the only way I knew how…

My first game solo this year was a Friday afternoon at Wrigley Field versus the Arizona Diamondbacks. It was a challenge for me because my friend had free tickets and invited me along but I had this idea and I was sticking to it. I did things the way I envisioned a game day for a fan should be. I did everything I normally take for granted. I drove down to the ballpark early for batting practice, scalped an upper deck ticket for $5, walked in Gate K on Waveland, headed for the third base line terrace seats, walked about 4 rows back, and sat down in the 4th seat from the aisle. At this point the ballpark was only about a quarter full, with most the fans in the bleachers or down near the field trying to snag an autograph or foul ball. I sat back, kicked my feet up onto the back of the chair in front of me, closed my eyes and took in a big breath of fresh Wrigley air. I kept closing my eyes- listening to the clamor of conversation ensuing around the park and sound of the ball making contact with the bat… I remembered my very first time at Wrigley Field. I remembered the first time I sat down in one of those dark green seats and watched Kerry Wood mow down hitter after hitter. I remembered seeing that number “34” and felt it, even then, being ingrained into my memory. Oh, how often that number has crossed my mind since then. It has graced every jersey I have ever played in, its on just about every one of my college notebooks, and its framed on jerseys around my house. That number symbolizes everything I believe in to this day, and there is was when I re-opened my eyes and wathced a little kid in a large faded Wood t-shirt walking past me with his father.

That was part of my goal that day- remembering the past. I wanted to relive baseball the way I did when I was a kid. It was coming close to the start of the game and the players were rumbling about in the dugouts. I got out my scorebook and wrote off the names as they were being announced. Once the game started, and I was keeping score it all just started to roll.

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S_Between_the_Lines is a Jabberhead and SJ contributing author. Read more of her works at The Baseball Life.

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