With Joy and Verve and Poetry
“And frankly, Bulls fans, he used a word that’s a no-no with umpires….”
April 4, 2021
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“Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is.”
- Bob Feller, Baseball Hall of Famer
On the night before Opening Day of every new Major League Baseball season, I conduct my sacred annual ritual - I watch Bull Durham, perhaps the greatest baseball film of all time.
[Editor’s Note: To stave off the inevitable caterwauling of dissent at that statement, JDK asked me to list his other candidates for GBFOAT - Field of Dreams (except there are no Black players in the “heaven” of Iowa - no Satchel Paige, no Josh Gibson, no Cool Papa Bell, and no Jackie Robinson. That’s a problem, folks. A big one), The Sandlot (“You’re killing me, Smalls.”), Major League (“Are you saying Jesus Christ can’t hit a curveball?”), A League of Their Own (“There’s no crying in baseball!”), The Natural (the exploding lights are iconic), and Moneyball (“There are rich teams and there are poor teams. Then there’s fifty feet of crap. Then there’s us.”). Argue with JDK at your leisure, but don’t expect to change his mind.]
If you haven’t seen it, you should. It’s not just for Dudes Who Like Baseball. It’s equal parts Smart and (Rather) Spicy, the perfect balance of Zen and Budweiser. I’ll give you the basics without spoilers, just to get you in the mood.
For me, the movie perfectly blends everything that makes baseball baseball, and life life - in the fashion that Bob Feller articulated decades ago. Its two main characters, the wise journeyman minor league catcher Lawrence “Crash” Davis (Kevin Costner) and the master metaphysical baseball and relationship priestess Annie Savoy (Susan Sarandon), have entirely different approaches to understanding and playing the game, yet both come to incorporate the best of the other as they contemplate making major changes in their lives. At the center of the emotional-and-sexual-tension-filled tug-of-war that eventually brings them closer together is Ebby Calvin “Nuke” LaLoosh (Tim Robbins), a young phenom pitcher “with a million dollar arm, but a five-cent head.” As Crash and Annie each teach Nuke their own unique lessons on how to grow up as a pitcher and as a man, the Durham Bulls baseball team goes from not-so-loveable losers in the first part of the season to a team of destiny playing their brand of baseball “with Joy and Verve and Poetry,” as Annie describes it with her usual eloquence.
“How come in past lives, everyone is somebody famous?”
Along the way, we witness the trials and tribulations of what it takes to be an aspiring pro baseball player, and the even harder trials for each character to grow and become better versions of themselves. There is no easy resolution or tired cliché ending, which again makes it as much a parable about life as about baseball. For all of these reasons, and because of the litany of classic lines throughout the film, I watch it every year as my own “spring training” in preparation for enjoying another baseball season.
This year, though, the emotional power of my annual viewing caught me by surprise - though it really shouldn’t have. Last year, the pandemic erased the annual beginning of the baseball season. The monthlong Prep Party that is Spring Training in Arizona and Florida was wiped out just as it got started, and eventually all that could be mustered was a truncated sixty-game season (instead of the standard 162), all played in empty stadiums. It was better than nothing, but not by much.
So last Wednesday night, with a full 162-game slate for thirty teams starting the next day, I found myself even more invested in the Parable of the Bulls than usual. And, in light of the past year’s traumas and dramas, I was struck even more by the timeliness of the film’s themes:
Starting over (a new season). Hope springs eternal. Old, favorite things done in new ways. Growth and change. Gratitude for what we have, and who we have. Leaning into new challenges. Pushing ourselves forward. While these are common every year, I noticed that this year — coming out of an unprecedented pandemic, a wrenching year politically and socially, and a collective yearning to reconnect in person with family and friends — the arrival of baseball encapsulates them all even more than usual.
“Well, Nuke’s scared because his eyelid’s jammed and his old man is here. We need a live…is it a live rooster? We need a live rooster to take the hex off Jose’s glove and nobody seems to know what to get Millie or Jimmy for their wedding present. Is that about right? We’re dealing with a lot of shit.”
It’s quite the convergence, if you think about it. Baseball begins the same weekend as Passover and Easter this year, coming just after the official arrival of spring and the one-year anniversary of the first, frightening COVID lockdowns. Each has us considering not only the challenges of the past year, but all the changes we hope to see in the present and future. A new start means new possibilities for a different journey, and a different finish. At this moment — at this beginning — it’s hope and possibility that move us forward, “walking to the plate” time after time to swing at the pitches life throws us.
And just like in baseball, sometimes we get a hit and other times we don’t. Sometimes, we just plain strike out. On days where we feel we have our best fastball and off-speed stuff, sometimes it just doesn’t work and life pounds us to the point where we have to call out to the bullpen for relief. We hit the showers early.
Our “road trips” exhaust us over time, keeping us away from home and constantly on the edge of uncomfortable or worse. We go from hot streaks to protracted slumps, sometimes adopting superstitious or otherwise odd behaviors to sustain the Hot and break the Not. We strive for individual success amidst the “team” assembled around us, all of whom are looking to reach the same goals using their unique gifts. Injuries sideline us; we recuperate and get ourselves back into playing shape. As other teams adjust to us, we adjust to them. Each pitcher or hitter we face is unique, has their own way of doing things, and we work with what they give us or deny us.
Sometimes, the game / life gets boring and moves slowly, punctuated by moments of excitement and amazing plays that dazzle the eyes and are talked about for days after. Other times, it moves at breakneck speed. Individual games can take a while, but seemingly in another blink of an eye dozens of games go by. The urgency steadily builds to play better, to make up ground, to reach the goal of “winning” before we run out of chances.
The analogies go on and on. It’s why many say baseball is life, and life is baseball. It’s why Bob Feller was right.
Of course, it can be easy to get cynical after spring passes and the baseball season is well underway. Some teams will fall out of contention within a month, while some teams expected to be bad will surprise with their success. Other teams will race neck and neck down the stretch, building the hope of their faithful fans; some will celebrate victory, while others will be heartbroken when their teams fall short. In the end, twenty-nine fan bases will be disappointed every season. Only one team Wins It All.
Life can feel that way, too.
Fortunately there’s a new season every year. Every team and group of fans gets to try again, if they so choose. And almost all of them choose to do so every year, no matter how the previous year turned out. We’re resilient that way, us humans.
“Just throw it at the bull, okay? Trust me.”
As Annie Savoy makes clear in Bull Durham, baseball and life are equally paradoxical, yet both still provide beauty and meaning and growth, even if we don’t always see them in the moment. Both are also equally cyclical yet surprising, lived by logic and reason on one side, and by “feel” and emotions and spiritual concentration on the other. Both have their linear and nonlinear elements, and to remove either would destroy what makes the game beautiful.
Baseball is a game of both tradition and innovation, a case study in the artful science that is Paradox in Action. Like life, it is composed of diverse players, from all over the world, each with different skills and foibles and growth potential that are revealed and honed with each game. It’s a paradox that requires us to stay in the present to play well, leaving past games behind and letting the future ones take care of themselves. We practice and take guidance, engage in trial and error, get advice and tips from those who came before us, and give the same back to those behind us.
While we each play or root for our own teams, it is best when all appreciate the game — of baseball, or life — played well by any side. This took me a long time to learn and live out. I always smile widely when home fans at a baseball game stand and applaud a great defensive play by the visiting team. You will never see that at an NFL or NBA or NHL game - ever. And don’t even get me started on how global soccer fans handle things like that.
A deep abiding love of the game itself is what distinguishes baseball in that sense. And to me, this is what makes baseball the most beautiful of games. It encompasses all we love about life in all its facets, and challenges us on the parts of it we don’t. It teaches us endurance and focus, to learn to zero in on each moment while also keeping in mind the big picture. It teaches us to improve ourselves first then help others to do the same.
It encourages us to appreciate life on its own terms, and to come back year after year to try again.
Even when we don’t win — whatever that really means — we can still find joy in the game itself, because playing the game and playing it well is really the point. It’s what we each remember of ourselves and those we watch play.
Every once in a while, we reach a point where we have to change how we play or what we do in the game. Crash had to give up on reaching the majors as a player, but decided to shoot for it as a manager. Annie, meanwhile, decided to stop playing her yearly lottery game with the Durham players and find new paths to fulfillment and peace for herself. And both of them wanted the other to come along for the ride.
That’s where the movie ends, just as a new chapter in their story begins. I, for one, like viewing life that way. I’m trying to live it that way these days, too.
I’m trying to publish a book, much as Crash was trying to make the majors. He found a lot of Good he didn’t expect along the way, even though things didn’t turn out quite as he’d hoped.
At least not yet.
For him, Hope Springs Eternal. So, I’ll keep swinging like he did and see what happens.
[Editor’s Note: Seriously, check out Costner’s swing in the movie - it’s fantastic. Unlike Tim Robbins’ pitching, which looks more like a giraffe roller skating than it does a Randy Johnson Wind Up of Death.]
It’s pretty much the best any of us can do.
Along the way, I hope I get to deliver some fantastic lines like Crash’s, “the Rose goes in the front, big guy,” and “isn’t this [outfit] a bit excessive for the Carolina League?”
Nuke’s worst nightmare - pitching (almost) naked. But at least the Rose is in the front where it belongs.
A new season of baseball, and in life, is upon us. Stepping up to the plate to take our swings as we start a new year is in order.
And to do that, we all have to start with one thing.
Chins Up, Everyone - it’s the only way to see what’s coming and where to go / throw / run / hit.
(And, go Mariners. Because hope really DOES spring eternal)
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Thanks for reading My Sunday Post. Here are some important updates from my past week:
Soul Book of the Week: The Furious Longing of God by Brennan Manning
Book On My Nightstand: Empire of Lies by Raymond Khoury
Best Show / Movie I Watched: Sound of Metal (Riz Ahmed is brilliant in it)
Strongest Earworm Song: “Lili Marlene” by Marlene Dietrich (English version is here)
Longest Walk / Run of the Week: 4.38 mile run / 22 mile ride (Saturday)
Favorite Hangout T-Shirt of the Week: This one (Should be obvious why after reading this post)
Coolest Thing of the Week: Opening Day (of a real, full-length baseball season!)
Thing I Know Now That I Didn’t Last Week: “There is no cow on the ice” means “there’s no reason to panic” in Sweden
Most Helpful Perspective / Advice of the Week: “You can pick up the phone, too, you know.”
Current Wanderlust List: 1) T-Mobile Park in Seattle; 2) California - any and all of it; 3) A campfire
