Good Sport

It's been a while since I've written about baseball. My team, the Philadelphia Phillies, has been having a rough year. Same for the Boston Red Sox, leaving the local Nation somewhat despondent, and more than willing to offer me advice about how to deal with a sudden turn in the fortunes of my squad. I've been entertained and intrigued by some of the unexpected successes this year, but without a favorite horse up front as talk of playoff races lies just around the corner, I must confess that I've not been following our national pastime quite as closely as in recent years.

Appropriately, the London Olympics are dominating the sports news these days, and the athletes of Team USA have been putting on quite the show. I had forgotten how excited I can be about sports I've never played– water polo and gymnastics come to mind– as well as those that I enjoy on a far more recreational basis, such as volleyball and swimming. I'm looking forward to the track and field events next week, eager to watch marathoners, sprinters, and throwers alike competing on the world stage. Yet I've been dismayed by the few stories that cast some shadows on the Olympic flame. Murmurs of possible doping, badminton players throwing matches, even social media posts that didn't reflect the wisest judgment, and led to some expulsions from the Games. I know that the pressure of competition is fierce– I go to my "quiet space" to quell butterflies and anxieties before a road race– but I also feel fairly justified in my desire that these athletes come together as a global community, do their best for team and country, and simply (to use a hackneyed phrase) "go for the gold."

It's this personal mindset, I believe, that caused me to be so impressed by something that happened at Cincinnati's Great American Ballpark this afternoon. The Reds, leading the NL Central by three games, were hosting the Padres, who are way behind the Giants in the NL West. The home team (and their weather) is hot; Cincy has won 9 of its last 10, while San Diego was headed for a third straight loss by the end of the 2nd inning, trailing by six runs. Then, in the top of the 3rd, a guy named Eddy Fernandez stood in for his first at-bat in the majors, and hit the fourth pitch he saw into the center field seats for a solo home run. He circled the bases, collected the requisite high fives and ritual slapping from his teammates, and drew some applause from the crowd. At the same time, a fan threw the ball back to the Reds' center fielder– not in the disgust or protest sometimes signaled by tossing back a homer by the opposing team– but to relay the memento back to young Mr. Rodriguez. The next Cincinnati player tossed the ball to the Padres' third-base coach, who heaved it into the dugout. (For anyone interested, a link to the game video is here, at least for a little while.)

Moments like this are some of my favorites in baseball, and sports in general. There are plenty of walk-off home runs, furious come-from-behind sprints down a track, and clutch plays of all sorts etched into my memory, but I can't help but smile at these humble class acts between fellow athletes and their fans. That's something I'll be looking for as the Olympics continue, and something I'm eager to reconnect with as I begin to sketch out my fall training plans, and look forward to meeting, and maybe engaging in a little competition with, some fellow runners in the months ahead.