I try to
keep my nerdiness at bay on this blog—not because I’m embarrassed of my
nerdiness, but for your own protection. My nerdiness is a spectacular permeation
that can infiltrate those around me like a zombie apocalypse virus. Case in
point:
I am a nerd
at work: I get excited about survey results and students with revise and
resubmits and making PowerPoints for conference panels (I can hear you yawning
as I type). I am a nerd at home: with my crafting and my penchant for graphic
novels and love of zombies and what they say about our culture (the working man’s
horror monster, am I right?).
Tangent—have
you seen the Missouri Department of Conservation Zombie/Invasive Species
warning? You should check it out. They reminded me of the fact that we need to
avoid cauliflower fields near harvest time. Cauliflower—looks like brains—zombie attractant.
Thank you, Dept. of Conservation!
I am a nerd
on the internet. I am a nerd in public. I love my nerdiness, but I limit it. To
protect you. Someone has to be the cool kids.
Baseball,
however, is my one saving grace. The cool kids watch baseball, and MLB is the
only professional sport I enjoy. They may make millions, but they are playing a
gentleman’s sport. There is a level of intelligence, skill, and perseverance
that I just don’t see in other sports. I love college football, and many other
non-professional level sports, but when it comes to the professionals, baseball
has my heart. And the St. Louis Cardinals, oh! I love watching Pulhols (who,
despite his free agent status, refuses, even today, to discuss his plans for
the future because he will dedicate himself fully to the team he’s with right
now) and Molina (who may run the bases slower than most, but always seem to be
quick enough to be right smack in the middle of big plays and celebrations) and
Freese (the hometown boy who went to high school—and it is very important where
you went to high school in St. Louis—in the district next to where we used to
live, and then became the Series MVP for the team he rooted for as a child).
Okay, maybe
baseball is not the one thing that saves me from my nerdiness. Perhaps I
approach my love of baseball in the same way as I approach my obsession with
excel spreadsheets.
All of this to
say we watch a lot of baseball in our house. This is the scenic way of saying
that my children watch a lot of baseball during the season. Staying up to
11:00pm on a Friday night to watch Game 7 of the World Series was a given in
our household. They didn’t even have to ask. They were decked out in red, with
Ant squeezing into his Molina jersey that he outgrew last summer (catchers have
to stick together). I know my children are not the only children watching, which
is why I am so upset by the way Elvis Andrus of the Texas Rangers acted last
night, in game seven, when he struck out.
He threw a
fit that would make any overtired, raging toddler proud. He hit the ground with
his bat. He yelled. He took off his batting helmet and threw it. It was
ridiculous.
Yes, stakes
are high in the World Series. Yes, it sucks when you know you are a good
hitter, and you strike out at a crucial time. I get it; Andrus was upset. But is
this any way to act when millions of people are watching you? You are paid to
be a professional, and I, at least, expect you to act like a professional. None
of us could get away with acting like that act work.
And what about
sportsmanship? What does his fit teach our little leaguers and softball
players?
Baseball is
America’s pastime for a reason. Teamwork, sportsmanship, sticking to it, trying
your best, celebrating with one’s team when you win and comforting one another
in defeat—these are the things that we want to teach our children; these are
values that we want to uphold as Americans. These are good qualities to possess
as human beings, and this is part of the reason why we hold professional
athletes to such high standards.
As a
Cardinal’s fan, I know that I’m biased against Andrus, and I will openly admit
that. Yet, I can easily concede that Texas is a fantastic team—they played well
all year long, and the year before that. It was almost a given that the Rangers
would be in the World Series. Their success this year has been somewhat
eclipsed by the underdog, come-back-against-all-odds story of the Cardinals,
and that stinks.
Yet…when you
are in the position of role model, when you are national TV, when you are paid
a huge salary to play a professional sport, I expect you to act like an adult. Andrus
set a bad example in his reaction last night, and I wonder what impact it could
have on younger viewers who watched the game. Should he apologize? Should
something be said? And do YOU think that professional sports teams influence
children in a manner that demands we hold them to higher standards in conduct?
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