This blog began as a way to record my musings about preparations and travels to the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, Canada February 16-27, 2010. From that amazing experience came this ongoing story of becoming a sports fan. You can follow my tales of awe, agony, and all the emotions in between as well as view pics from seasons of Phillies baseball. Along the way is a little Eagles football thrown in for fun, and even some astronomy and weather related tales. I feel lucky to have witnessed some historic games, some heartbreaking losses, but all wonderful when told from this new fan's point of view.

Blog Archives postings:
Dec 2009-Feb 2010
Olympics
March 2010-Dec 2011
Baseball and more
2011 The Phillies do again, winning the Eastern Championship for the 5th straight year.
April 2012-Sept 27 2012 Not the best season for the Phillies
2013-We wait and see!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

How Baseball saved my life

The final game of the 2010 National League Series was a disappointment for Phillies fans, and certainly there is an endless variety of ways to ask many questions. Why couldn't the Phillies connect to the ball? Why did Ryan Howard stop being the powerhouse that all expected him to be? What happened to the home runs?  These are the questions I will leave to the sports experts and commentators who get paid to make up answers. For me, the question  was this:, What about being in a ballpark with 46,000 people was an essential part of healing from a traumatic injury that had kept me out of work for 6 weeks, and in pain for much longer than that?

On March 21,  2010 an accident at home sent me to the trauma unit at Einstein hospital. Although I didn't know it at the time, the top joint of my finger had been crushed and the nerves severed so badly that the damage was irreparable. As you read this, you may shutter thinking about the pain-so then, multiply that and you will get a tinge of how painful it was in reality. My world became bandages and medications, neighbors and friends helping me clean and cook, family staying with me, and much much love. I created visualizations of light and warmth and gratitude to use as meditations, which when recorded became my lullabies to sooth me to sleep. Bathed in this gratitude  I went into surgery on March 31, thanking everyone in my path from receptionists, to the nurses to the excellent surgeon.

From the time of the injury through this surgery and for weeks to come, I did not know the extent of the damage, never knew that my life had changed permanently.

I only knew  that on  April 14, I had precious tickets in the 11th row of the 3rd base line in Citizen's Bank Park to see the  Phillies Opening night game with my friends. I only knew that whatever the pain, and no matter how difficult, that game was going to stay on my schedule.

My hand bandaged, my bag packed with vicodin and aciteminophen, I took my seat cradled between two of my favorite Phillies phans.  I couldn't clap because the impact on my hand was like an electric shock. But I could stand up and wave, shout and scream.

Oh,  how I learned to let go  and scream.

Not for myself, though. No, I shouted for a team, and for a city and for the start of spring and expectations for summer; for hope and for excitement; for the open air, and balls sailing high into the sky; for running and stealing bases, for sliding into home, for grace and green; for the sun setting over the Philadelphia skyline; for silly antics on the field; for the ceremonial first pitch and the actual first pitch.

For all that and more I stood up, hands waving, becoming part of the community of fans.

Surrounded by  45,000 others screaming and and yelling, too, I  realized that it was safe expected even to make noise,  a lot of noise.  That night and the rest of the thrilling season of cheering, yelping, stomping  saved my life .

And I needed that.

The 95% of my body that wasn't hurt needed that. For the summer and well into fall, the places in me that had become small  filled the vast ballpark space with the joy of winning, the excruciating pain of losing,  the excitement at seeing a no hitter,  the awe at witnessing the ballet of an elegant catch in right field, the naughty delight of cheering on a runner as he stole a base, the tickle at being part of a 'wave' that spread throughout the stands, the silliness of singing at the 7th inning stretch.

And it helped to bring me into wholeness again.

That is why I am a Phillies phan.