Take Me Out to the Ballgame

There are always peripheral activities at General Assembly. Often they are things that relate to stuff going on in the host presbyteries that highlight local ministries and mission initiatives. Some connect with particular local histories. Occasionally a few might even be really best termed “tourism.”   

Last night in Pittsburgh was baseball.

Pittsburgh is clearly best known today a black and gold Steelers football town. But its longer heritage stems from the black and gold Pirates. At the turn of the century, (the twentieth not the twenty-first) the Pittsburgh Pirates were THE team in baseball. The Bucs won three consecutive National League pennants beginning in 1901 (although they also had ignominy of having lost the very first World Series to the upstart Boston Americans in 1903). They finally did win a championship in 1925 and then again in 1960 on a series winning homerun by Bill Mazerowski (an event that longtime Yankee fans will never forget – of forgive). After two title runs in 1971 and 1979, the Pirates have been one of baseball perennial losers.

The turn of this century however, brought a new ballpark to Pittsburgh – a wonderful fan-friendly place called PNC Ballpark which has perhaps the most spectacular city view from any stadium anywhere – and along with it, a glimpse of promise of potential glory days ahead.

The Presbytery of Pittsburgh sponsored a “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” night as part of their hosting of the assembly. It there is anything that might have the power to remove one from the doldrums and drudges of debate and “documentarianism,” not to mention the pit and prison from a plethora of parliamentarianism, it is baseball.

The Pirates best player is a young man named Andrew McCutchen, who at twenty-five years old, seems on his way to becoming the best player in the National League. McCutchen seems to have some of the same “I-know-it-when-I-see-it” intangible talent of Willie Mays, who, fifty years ago not only did everything on a baseball field well, but seemed to do all of it with abounding joy. McCutchen seems to play with this kind of talent, and this kind of joy. 

It reminds me of the wonderful line in Chariots of Fire, when the Scottish runner, Eric Liddle, in describing how he reconciles athletics with his evangelical Christian faith, says, “I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel his pleasure.

Baseball was for decades, clearly this country’s “game” if not its National Pastime. But equally true is the evidence that as we have become more and more technological and more and more impatient and even more and more self-important, baseball has been far-eclipsed by football in popularity. Football, with its technical jargon and industrial precision is much more reflective of those attributes. Of course, in trying to “justify” baseball and pronounce its continuing relevancy, many have been exploring the inner-complexity of the sport. Trying to dispel the idea that it is really much more than the bucolic, pastoral game it really is – where the unfolding of the drama is languid and luxurious. Where, even amid the occasional breathtaking moment, it is at its core still a diversion with a bat and a ball that can be played by children with great success and joy.

Willie Mays was once asked near the end of his career to comment on the intricacies of baseball. While not disparaging any of baseball’s many subtleties, Willie said that at its heart, baseball was a pretty simply game:

“You pitch the ball; I hit it.

I hit it; I run.

You hit it; I catch it.

I catch it; I throw it.”

According to lore, when Karl Barth visited Chicago in 1962, he was asked to summarize the meaning of his theological tome Church Dogmatics. Barth reflected for a brief moment and replied: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

Simple.

Joyful.

Run and feel His pleasure.