Lazy Afternoon
Going to a ball game on a weekday afternoon is generally regarded as a lazy and mindless activity. But for me on this particular sunny day, baseball (paradoxically) constituted a mindful engagement.
I left work and went to the A's-Detroit game by myself. I sat in a section that was fairly empty, although on three sides I was surrounded by what was reportedly some 20,000 schoolchildren. They were not, shall we say, quiet. In my ears I had the radio commentary of Ray Fosse, Ken Korach, and Vince Cotroneo.
The A's were not at their best. I even texted my favorite nephew that "the A's suck." And yet--and yet, as I sat there I got more and more interested in what Ray and Ken and Vince were saying. I realized their broadcast constituted a narrative about the A's in particular and baseball in general; they were dipping into a story that is ongoing and rich, calling on their past experiences to illuminate the present happenings and to speculate about the future. Their voices rose and fell with enthusiasm informed by deep knowledge about their subject.
They were weaving the contest unfolding in front of us into the larger fabric of the fascinating game of baseball in a way that was more mesmerizing than soporific--although I did find myself very relaxed. Sitting in the sunshine and munching on a couple of veggie dogs with all the fixin's completed my pleasure.
It strikes me that the activities I enjoy are not necessarily those that empty my mind. They are more those that focus my thoughts in a way that for a time shuts out the chaos that is modern life definitively yet gently. Baseball. Reading. And yes, running.
I left work and went to the A's-Detroit game by myself. I sat in a section that was fairly empty, although on three sides I was surrounded by what was reportedly some 20,000 schoolchildren. They were not, shall we say, quiet. In my ears I had the radio commentary of Ray Fosse, Ken Korach, and Vince Cotroneo.
The A's were not at their best. I even texted my favorite nephew that "the A's suck." And yet--and yet, as I sat there I got more and more interested in what Ray and Ken and Vince were saying. I realized their broadcast constituted a narrative about the A's in particular and baseball in general; they were dipping into a story that is ongoing and rich, calling on their past experiences to illuminate the present happenings and to speculate about the future. Their voices rose and fell with enthusiasm informed by deep knowledge about their subject.
They were weaving the contest unfolding in front of us into the larger fabric of the fascinating game of baseball in a way that was more mesmerizing than soporific--although I did find myself very relaxed. Sitting in the sunshine and munching on a couple of veggie dogs with all the fixin's completed my pleasure.
It strikes me that the activities I enjoy are not necessarily those that empty my mind. They are more those that focus my thoughts in a way that for a time shuts out the chaos that is modern life definitively yet gently. Baseball. Reading. And yes, running.
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