Eternal Life - Joy, A Baseball Story

I was standing on first base, 180 ft of Little League basepaths was the path that would take my team to victory against the toughest opponent in our division. I don’t remember who was on third but I know we were down by one run, runners on the corners and CJ was at bat. He was one of our best hitters. I loved nothing more than to run the bases in little league. I was fleet of foot as a kid and rounding the bases was unlike anything else I got to do on the field. I don’t remember how many outs there were, but I do remember the ball leaving CJ’s bat. It was a line drive to the outfield, I was off! I didn’t look for the ball, I was going to third base no matter what, I remember Coach yelling my name before I was halfway to second, getting to third base safely was a sure thing.

My left foot hits the inside corner of the bag at second and I look up for Coach, would I see a waving arm telling me to go home or would I stop at third and have the game be tied with the next batter having a chance at little league immortality? The answer came in the form of a jumping coach wildly waving his left arm anti-clockwise. I’m going home and I get to run from first to home as fast as I can. But where is the ball?

This is the actual field where my baserunning story took place

I know the ball is in the outfield but I don’t know if it’s been picked up or if it’s already traveling back to the infield. Maybe Coach just wants to send me home and hope the throw is offline or maybe I beat the throw with my speed.

I know where I am going, I no longer need to pay attention to Coach, I need to hit third base next. Left foot to the inside corner, the ball doesn’t matter anymore. The catcher’s glove is what matters now and only if the ball is inside that glove. Third base is behind me and I need to find the catcher. He stands in front of home plate, knees NOT bent, he is not getting ready to accept the ball! I don’t have to slide, I just need to get to home plate.

My team’s dugout was along the third baseline. This means, from the perspective of my team and the parents of the players, I was running from left to right. The other team’s fans were sitting on the first base side, under the big oak tree and I was running directly at them. I heard no one after touching third. I wonder what it was like in the dugout watching all this happen. I didn’t hear our team’s fans I was focused on what the catcher was doing those first few strides after touching third. Will I have to go wide to avoid a tag? Do I dare slide head first or try to go under any tag since he was standing so tall? It didn’t matter, the ball was nowhere near me.

This would have been the view from where my parents were sitting

As soon as I was satisfied the catcher was not making a move into my path with the ball or moving the catch the ball, I scampered for home. I remember starting to throw my arms up midway through my final stride. My foot hits the plate and I look up to see the collective faces of the other team’s fans in that moment of loss all sports fans have experienced. I don’t recall any specific faces, but I remember the general look. I remember taking the time to scan the crowd before turning to run back to my team. I was 10 but I thought to take in the moment. I’m retroactively proud of myself.

I make the turn, the game is over, we’ve won and my whole team is running toward home plate. I may have jumped, but for sure Coach picked me up. We celebrated as a group near home plate and this is where my memory of the moment ends. I don’t recall packing up my bag or greeting my parents or even talking to them after the game. I don’t remember talking to anyone else inside the dugout or outside the field gates.

This moment of pure sporting joy runs through my internal monologue quite often. So how does this give me eternal life?

Stories like this teach us to recognize the moments that will stay with us for our entire lives. I don’t remember talking about this with my parents or friends who were there after that day but this has clearly stuck with me. Being mindful of the events taking place in the lives of those close to us is an early step to eternal life. Facilitating the continued memory of an event or setting up the circumstances for that event to be retold in the future. This takes recognition, consideration, and planning on behalf of another person. Eternal Life comes from sustaining the joy of future generations.

We must learn how to sustain our own joyous moments and translate that into the joy of others over the course of time. Tell the stories that give us joy. When we demonstrate our own happiness, we fill our own cups and allow others to fill their own with the shared experience. The gift of joyous recognition will have your name attached to such a lesson for years beyond your natural life. Even when your name fades like the ink of history, the lesson lives on.

I will wrap up this essay with a practical example I witnessed while getting food for a Shakespeare Festival we’re going to tonight. I got home and there was a mom with two boys playing with water guns. I’m getting out of the car and what I hear is the unmistakable sound of two kids laughing and having a great time on a summer Saturday afternoon. This moment has the potential to be a core memory. This core memory may not be this singular moment but part of a collection of “when we played water guns”. Not only for the boys but for Mom as well.

Awareness is the first step to immortality. Using this as the tool to notice joy and maintain the feelings that joy brings to our lives is one of the steps toward Eternal Life.

CHR;)