Sports

  I've always loved sports, baseball in particular.  Some of my favorite memories from growing up revolve around sports.  Much of my relationship with my dad revolved around baseball--he used to hit me fly balls in the driveway, and we'd go out and play catch--I'd always try and throw the ball as hard as I could to impress him, even that usually ended with him chasing the ball down afterward.  It's amazing how easy it is to miss a six foot target that's only twenty feet away from you...

  I still remember the night where Dad pulled me out of baseball practice to go watch the Reds play downtown.  Then there was the magical night in 1990 when we were at game 6 of the NLCS, watching the Reds clinch the National League Pennant.  I remember cheering as they won, yelling at the Pirates dugout, and then racing downtown to celebrate in Fountain Square.  My dad had me up on his shoulders, and I life couldn't have been better.  A few days later, we were listening to the radio in the living room when Todd Benzinger caught a foul pop up and the Reds won the World Series.  The elation may as well have occurred yesterday, so strong is its pull within my mind.


  Yet, I will freely admit that this summer has been one of the more enjoyable summers of my life.  I haven't watched a single Reds game, and I feel as though I've been more productive than ever before.  No longer do I sit and wait to see what will come next in the game--more often, I'm engrossed in a book, or playing the piano, or simply talking with Rachel.  The emotional swings that come with watching the Reds wallow in mediocrity have disappeared, replaced with the simple awareness that, at any time, I can check online to see how they're doing, then turn the game off just as easily.

  (The Bengals...well, I haven't missed watching them for some time.  Dad and I went to a lot of Bengals games, and while we had a blast at most of these, it's hard for me to take them seriously enough to get emotional about them anymore.  Call me when they win a playoff game.)

  So I wonder, now, as the opportunity arises for me to raise a son, what role sports will have in his life.  I certainly hope he'll play sports, and I hope he enjoys them and makes a lot of friends while playing them.  I certainly hope his ACLs fair better than mine did.

  But, at the end of the day, I think I hope that sports play a small role in his life, that they always are put in their proper place.  I hope that I get to enjoy sporting moments with him like I did with my dad, but, in our family, sports were never bigger than life.  They never defined life, and I hope they don't in our house.  I hope the mood of our house isn't dependent on a team of overpaid athletes performing better than another group of overpaid athletes.  I hope it is always kept in perspective, that sports matter enough to be enjoyable, but not enough to dominate and define a life.

  I just hope I can live out that balance, and set an example worthy of following!