Rec baseball is a metaphor for (covid-crazy) life

“Baseball is nothing more than another classroom in the educational process,” opined late Texas Longhorns baseball coach Augie Garrido. “Really, baseball is a metaphor for life.”

This is a common refrain among those passionate about the intricate but simple beauty of baseball. Some see batters as a metaphor for finding your way back home, like “Odysseus, the Prodigal Son, [or] the Children of Israel,” while others see hitters who are “going to miss the ball more often than they hit it” as a metaphor for how to “psychologically handle failure.”

However, most Americans are absolutely not “adept at picking themselves up … as baseball players do” when anything fails, much less something huge like draconian reconstruction of every level of society per the “public health” cabal. They simply go along with the program because they like the path of least resistance. Compliance over nonconformity is their mantra. False prosperity over principle is their arc toward mythical enlightenment. Virtue signaling over virtue is the dogma. The last 14 months have proved that.

After bouncing back from our mental malaise brought on by the wu-flu propaganda, my husband and I have worked diligently since May 2020 to bring a sense of normality to our kids’ turned-upside-down lives, carving out “safe (as in safe from the tyranny) spaces” at both church and homeschool co-op. We’ve taken them maskless and jabless to multiple battlefields, beach outings, the outdoor gun range, heritage and nature jaunts in the mountains, family and historic cemeteries, political rallies in Raleigh, and amusements like bowling, go-karts, and water parks in the open states of South Carolina and Georgia.

We’ve hung out with family in both highly mandated Virginia and North Carolina, played wide open with friends, and even hosted for our neighbors a beyond “capacity limit” piano recital at our house, all sans mask and in defiance of social-distancing “regulation.” A good time was had by all. Shhhh, don’t tell the “Be a good neighbor, wear a mask/get the vax” bullies.

But large recreational activities, such as attending a live musical performance or a minor-league baseball game, seeing a movie, or some other typically boy-friendly adventures (like playing laser tag or paint ball) were all deemed a no-no here locally, even in many of the open states closest to us. This doesn’t seem like a big deal to the covid true-believers, but kids have needlessly suffered in dealing with the fallout of mandates surrounding a virus that kills less than 1% of the population and a very specific subset at that (typically unhealthy seniors who live in nursing homes).

Youth depression has skyrocketed, and there have been more covid suicides than covid deaths in kids because the mob has decreed that young, healthy people must act like old, sickly seniors, or really more like lepers. According to the scientism zealots, “Fun was so 2019.”

“Oh poor baby. Doesn’t have his high school football. Boo hoo,” tease the Twitter totalitarians, who fancy themselves the caring kind. “Get over it, Johnny. People are dying.” They cringe-post being triggered when driving past a field filled with maskless kids playing soccer. “I just want to freak out!” they admit, only to be enabled by heart emojis from the other meddling malcontents. “Unfun is the new normal!”

Then any “uptick” in cases (a dubious number if there ever was one) is predictably blamed on youth sports, even though many kids, like my ice-hockey-playing neighbor, has had to mask during practices and games both last year and this year. Another neighbor’s youth soccer team didn’t lose the masks, but (with a wink-wink) were not told to pull them back up from their chins till about half way through this spring season. And of course most leagues were outright canceled in last spring.

“Be thankful for what you get, Junior,” snidely chirp the members of the Church of Covid. “After all, this is about staying home and saving lives, remember? Stop being so selfish, boys and girls … or non-binary, non-geriatric clumps of cells. Whatever is your “gender preference,” you bes’ march in lockstep!”

Combine all that with the MLB’s increasing wokeness (from LGBT to BLM to outright leftist political activism) and their ridiculous cardboard-cutout fans from 2020, and my sons’ favorite Houston Astros cheating and their favorite player George Springer abandoning Texas for Canada, well, let’s just say I was losing loyalty to a sport that seems more and more to disappoint my baseball-loving family.

So, I was incensed when I received this email from my eldest son’s rec baseball league on April 8:

Effective immediately ALL players and coaches are required to wear a (COVID) mask in the dugout or any time they are within 6 feet of a non-family member.
PLAYERS WILL NOT BE PERMITTED TO PLAY IF THEY DO NOT HAVE A MASK.
Spectators should abide by the same guidelines and keep a personal distance of 6 feet from other fans and wear a mask around any non-family members.
It is imperative that we maintain these standards for the safety of everyone and health of our Spring season.
Thank you in advance for your cooperation and support.

And the head coach followed up with this on April 9:

Everyone should have received a message this evening from SRA regarding mask wearing in the dugouts and around non-family members. I implore everyone to heed this request and maintain all necessary precautions. Besides just following the prescribed guidelines for our mutual safety, let’s also be mindful of potential outside perceptions if DHHS folks were to pay us a visit. With all the time and work we have into this so far, I really want to see these boys continue to play the entire season.

Mama bear was roaring, but my husband talked me down. “Let him decide, honey,” my reasonable better half advised. “He’s 13, and if he wants to play ball that much, he’ll wear a mask. Plus, they’re only requiring it in the dugout. But hell if I’m wearing one while watching the game.”

My son decided he would take a mask, but only wear it if his coach requested it. Fair enough. But by the third inning of that first game after the dreaded email, the masks were all but gone, in the dugout and on the field. And the bleachers and surrounding fan areas were virtually maskless (as they had been up to that point of the season) from the get-go of the game, and nobody said a damn word!

The delightful season of fellowship and distraction from the elite-designed madness ended with a real nail-biter. Our team, the Red Sox, took an early lead, got behind by quite a few points, but then rallied in the 6th inning to tie it up. So, the teams went two extra innings, with the Sox losing in a dramatic final play of this two-and-a-half-hour saga. It was truly some of the best baseball I’ve ever seen. Sit and spin, MLB!

Right before the trophies were handed out, the president of the league walked unmasked onto the field and spoke directly to the crowd: parents, players, siblings, grandparents, friends, and even dogs. Heart in hand, he told us how the CDC had been constantly breathing down his neck, how he’d been in battles for months with local, state, and fed bureaucrats who were trying to squash the games, and how the season almost didn’t even happen at all. He explained how much he appreciated us all staying vigilant for the love of the game.

So, I decided to send this dogged dissident a message of my own.

Dear Eric,

I just wanted to let you know that the past two seasons of baseball have been such a bright light for our family in this sometimes very dark world, especially during the fall of 2020 when it was one of the few consistently “normal” activities we did. Our longtime homeschool co-op and our church were/are both steadfastly anti-mask and the like, but were kind of “underground,” in that they’re both pretty small and already filled with like-minded people who kept hush-hush about lacking governmental and social compliance.

But rec baseball was one of the more “mainstream” activities we did — heck, it was probably one of the ONLY large group activities that was available to us at all last fall beyond church and co-op — yet it was always so enjoyable and NOT crazy! Attending those chilly fall games became a highlight of late 2020 for my entire family, and it made us all feel so human again. I’m not one to have always been itching to get to every, single game; I mean, sometimes a mama has other stuff to tend to. But you couldn’t have dragged me away from those games! That entire season was such a hopeful and happy thing that I could kick myself for not letting you know till now.

Thus, hearing your speech at the 15U championship game last night (my son was #2 on the Red Sox) inspired me to reach out to you and say “THANK YOU!” Not only was this season as stupendous as was the fall (and honestly even better because the level of playing and amped-up skill!) but it makes it even more special knowing how much you had to fight for us: the league, the kids, the love of the game, and for families, for community, and for sanity!

My 12-year-old twins, who were on the fence about continuing to play competitive baseball (and then covid tyranny pushed them over into the we’re-done/disillusionment camp) have now decided to sign up for the 2021 fall season. And that’s because YOU made rec baseball available to their brother and our entire crew without mandate hassles and all the rest of it. In other words, you made it fun, and as we know, FUN has been in short supply for more than a year. Anyway, God bless you, good sir. Whatever you’re doing, please keep doing it. And please know that there’s a family of 5 out here who has your back — the CDC and the haters be damned!

Mask mandates are lightening up here in North Carolina, but they’re not going away forever. They’ll probably be back in full swing during flu season in the fall and winter, and they may never go away depending on the establishment, business, or corporate model (i.e., airlines and hospitals) or a government building (that would depend on the community, though, since my local suburban/rural post office and ABC store don’t require masks, or at least don’t enforce them, whereas many locations in the city still do).

And if it’s not masks, it’ll be “vaccine passports,” or another round of lockdowns, or something else stupid and dangerous to both the social fabric and the individual. And this is where baseball comes in.

Baseball is indeed an endeavor of focus, patience, and determination. It is a journey to get from home, around the bases, and back again. It is a competition against the odds and a sport best played at the local level, for the most famous are a farce and the best paid are part of the problem.

Eye on the ball, hitters. Cut it straight. Step toward the plate. Hustle to the base.

Relax, pitchers. Get it over the plate. Don’t aim it; pitch it. Focus on your form.

Call the pop flies, outfielders. Get that glove dirty, infielders.

Never give up. It’s about the individual and the team.

With baseball, anything’s possible. Yes, there are rules, and many I’m admittedly still learning, even though my kids have played rec ball for 10 years. But there’s so much freedom within those carefully guarded parameters that help the game function properly while also providing order. Rec baseball is almost ironic in its opposition to covid hysteria, which only creates chaos and fosters abnormality. Like all things woke, they make it up as they go along — the polar opposite of how baseball works. Take note, class.

That’s what it’s all about: you win some, you lose some, you work hard and play hard, but no matter what, it’s all about doing everything for God’s glory, whether that’s rec baseball or anything else. And if enough people in any one area just refuse to be coerced by the globohomers, no matter who they are, life would be more about living and less about simply existing. That’s the power of saying no to the nonsensical political theater and saying yes to putting your children’s well-being (both physical and mental) — hell, the health of society at-large — above the fashions of the day.

As it turns out, there are still a few Americans, at least in my neck of the woods, who understand the metaphor. They get the lesson and have embraced the classroom.

And like the great Yogi Berra said, “Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.” So there’s always that, too! Stay tough and stick together, y’all, ’cause it ain’t over till it’s over.