The Emotional Connection of a Baseball Life
By Jessica Quiroli
The sounds of baseball are distinct.
The pop of the bat, the hard slap of the ball in the glove, a fielder yelling, “I got it! I got it!” to his nearby teammates. Vendors making the rounds, walk-up music that becomes familiar to home team fans when each player makes their appearance. Then there’s the distinct sound of baseball silence. It’s a low key hum, the buzz of the next moment unfolding slowly: player steps out of the batters box, his name announced, he takes a moment at the plate, as does the pitcher. We are generally, usually, seated. Waiting. There’s something coming, but it doesn’t happen in an on-field huddle or echo off of a hardwood floor. It simmers. Then…the pop. Or a crack. Bat. Glove. Some sound that lifts the crowd in anticipation, groaning or cheering, willing it their way.
As quiet as the game of baseball is, it’s distinct sounds are embedded in the minds and hearts of baseball fans. To not hear those sounds, on an April afternoon scheduled to be opening week, is a silence that feels brutally relentless and entirely unfamiliar. Coronavirus, a global pandemic, has stopped human existence as we knew it, for the time being, with no timetable yet clear.
How strange this world to a baseball fan, in the spring, the season of baseball’s new life, we're sitting and staring out a window, as if it were winter in the Rogers Hornsby quote; that quote, so famous for capturing the holding pattern of winter for anyone who loves, plays or works in baseball.
There’s a deeper meaning to baseball’s presence in many fans lives. It connects them to memories of family, to their children as they grew up, and, even, to weddings.
“My husband and I fell in love bonding over baseball,” says Heather Linington-Noble, an Orioles “super fan and writer. “We had an Orioles/Dodgers wedding.” [as seen in photo]
But, as Heather also points out, the depth of the connection to baseball is far more than just romantic or fun, and it’s more complex than just being escapism. Baseball is an elixir for those suffering from depression, anxiety and difficult moments in life that feel overwhelming. I’m among them. And I’ve been open about that in the last few years.
“Baseball is my safe space,” Linington continues,” It’s what grounds me, and keeps me centered and sane, however chaotic the rest of my life is, and no matter how depressed I am, I know I can find comfort in baseball.”
In 2014, Eric Simons wrote “What science can tell sportswriters about why we love sports,” examining the emotional behaviors of sports fans, and why it all means so damn much to us. He cited a lot of solid research, some of it fun, some of it inconclusive, and a lot of it very enlightening.
“There is no single answer to why people watch sports, because the answer doesn’t lie in the game; it lies inside the individual,” he wrote. He went onto write about mirror neurons, neurons that fire when an animal acts, and when the animal then observes the same action performed by another. In other words, we connect with those who are like us, and love the same things. We see ourselves, and we feel seen.
One example that kept coming up when I asked baseball Twitter about their emotional connections to baseball was loss. When we share that love, and a person we shared it with is gone, the experience shifts to mean something beyond being a fan.
A baseball fan known as @christy_doc, answered in a few short, heavy-hearted words.
“My oldest brother took his own life two years ago in March. His birthday is October 30th. I’ve been a Nationals fan since 2012,” she wrote.
The Washington Nationals won the World Series on October 30th, 2019.
“I will always remember that night no matter what,” Christy said. “I was bawling my eyes out on the living room floor that night.”
Her experience isn’t unique, but it’s an intensely private pain that puts our love of the game in perspective. We’re tethered to teams in many ways, sharing our suffering when they lose, while also feeling the power of a loss of someone through the game. When the Nationals won the World Series, Christy’s partner in the love of the team wasn’t there. Our mourning of loved ones can be deeply tied to our baseball memories.
In answer to that, how does baseball heal us? What does it provide us spiritually? And what impact does watching, and being part of the baseball community have on depression?
Karen Soutar, a one-time contributor to All Heels on Deck, and current staff writer for Jays From the Couch, recalls a particularly challenging period of her life when baseball had meaningful impact on how she coped.
“I suffered from depression years ago, and took medication to get better,” she responded on Twitter. “The absence of baseball is threatening to send me “down that rabbit hole” again. I’m just trying to keep busy and focus on as many positives as I can.”
As April begins without a baseball game, without those sounds, we’re seeking each other out, as partners, as friends, as a community support system. We’re seeking the positives, but also a way to keep close what we love.
In Part Two of this series, we’ll share more of those loving fan memories, and explore more of the important ways baseball has been a way to manage depression.
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