“In every generation, each person must feel as if he personally had come out of Mitzrayim (Egypt), as the Torah says: “You should tell your child on that day, ‘When I left Mitzrayim, Hashem did miracles for me …’”—Passover Haggadah
With Passover just around the corner, if you’ve read this far, you are probably expecting an exegesis on Passover. Those who know me well know I am not an exegesis type of guy. On the other hand, I am a baseball type of guy, and baseball season is also right around the corner. So, alas, this column covers baseball, which actually shares some common themes with Passover (happens in springtime, four cups of wine—four balls to a walk, anyone?).
Like the commandment for one generation to teach the next about Passover, it is incumbent on one generation of baseball fans to teach the next about the sport. Please, no letters to the editor about how I could possibly compare a Biblical obligation to a sport. I know they are not the same, but baseball is a serious matter to its fans. However, if you are easily offended by such things, I suggest you stop reading.
Biblical Connections to Our Nation’s Pastime
After years of study, I have concluded that, at least based on the English translation of the Torah, the Almighty is a baseball fan. To begin with, Genesis literally starts with “In the beginning” which to baseball fans sounds a lot like “In the big inning.” Later, it says “There was day and there was night,” which evidently describes the first day-night doubleheader. Genesis discusses how the fowl fly, which is the first mention anywhere of a foul ball. We hear about the creation of birds, which I suppose describes the Cardinals, Blue Jays, and Orioles. We learn of the sea creatures, which must portend the creation of the Marlins and Rays. We read of Eve and the serpent, or “The Diamondbacks.” There’s a reference to celestial beings, or “the Angels.” We hear a description of a race of huge people, or “the Giants.” Genesis describes folks pitching in this place and that, which I think describes the first road trip. And, toward the end, the Bible describes how Cain struck Abel, which of course describes the formation of the Major League Baseball Players Association and the first strike. And we later read of Noah and the flood…the first recorded rainout!
My First Baseball Game
I attended my first baseball game when I was 5 or 6. I went to a game at Yankee Stadium one nice Sunday afternoon with my Dad and my Uncle Frank. The Mets hadn’t yet been born, so I don’t count this as a desertion of my beloved Mets. Also, it didn’t stick; I haven’t been to Yankee Stadium—either one—since, except for the 1977 All-Star Game, which in my mind doesn’t count as a Yankees game. Anyway, I really didn’t comprehend what was going on, but I do remember holding my Dad’s hand and walking up the entryway to our seats and seeing the dazzling orange of the grass and the incredible purple of the sky. Oh, right. It was around then that we discovered that I had red-green color deficiency, after my kindergarten teacher became very alarmed when I drew a picture of my baseball game trip with those colors. The only other thing I remember was that my Uncle Frank caught a foul ball, which I thought was just a normal game-day experience. Turns out catching foul balls runs in the family (more on that later). But a lifelong baseball fan was born that day.
My Son’s First Baseball Game
Fast-forward a generation to 1992. My son Mikki was about seven, and it was time for him to go to his first baseball game. I had already planted the subliminal baseball fan seed when, as a 1-year-old, I woke him up to see the last out recorded when the Mets won the World Series in 1986. When asked by Ellen why I was waking up our sleeping baby to see the Mets win the World Series, I replied, “Because this may not happen again for a long, long time.” Truer words were never spoken. Ellen thought I was nuts, but she understood; more proof that she’s a true Aishes Chayil. By the way, she attended her first game when we were dating. It was the infamous Mets-Reds NLCS playoff game in 1973, when Pete Rose and Bud Harrelson had a fight and there was a near-riot. I told her this happened every sixth inning.
So, in September of 1992, Mikki and I went to see the Mets play the Phillies at Shea Stadium. Neither team was very good and both were playing out the string. I managed to get really good field level seats right next to the Mets dugout. It was a great day. Mikki’s favorite player, first baseman Rico Brogna, hit a grand slam, and the Mets crushed the Phillies. But that’s not what was special. Before the game, we chatted with Mets coach Frank Howard. That was very nice.
Then, in the middle of the game, a foul ball went screaming over our heads, hit the wall between field level and the loge, bounced back off a railing, and…landed pretty much in Mikki’s lap. A foul ball at his first game…how cool! But wait…there’s more. In the bottom of the ninth inning, the game ended when Mickey Morandini (more karma, no?) hit a foul pop right near the Mets dugout, caught by none other than Rico Brogna. That would have been a great ending, but it got better when Rico saw Mikki, and said “Here you go, kid” and gave him the ball. Two foul balls at his first game!” But wait, there’s more. Mikki insisted on going to the players’ parking lot to get autographs.
Who do we meet on the way but the aforementioned Frank Howard, who engaged Mikki in a discussion about his first baseball game. Mikki excitedly explained how he got two foul balls. Then Frank told us to wait there. Two minutes later, he emerged from the clubhouse with a baseball bat he gave to Mikki. I know this story is unbelievable, but I have photographic proof. Even though I suggested to Mikki that he never go to a baseball game again because he could never hope to repeat this experience, another baseball fan (and foul ball magnet) was born.
My Grandson’s First Professional Baseball Game
Fast forward another generation to 2009. While on vacation in the Poconos, we took my then 3-year-old grandson Alex to his first professional baseball game. Unfortunately, it was the Yankees’ AAA affiliate, the Scranton Yankees, we saw. I say “unfortunately” because I am a lifelong Mets fan and can’t stand the Yankees, but you take what you get. I don’t remember much, but I had the presence of mind to take a photo of him when he saw the field for the first time. The look of wonderment is priceless, and I imagine I looked the same way that day at Yankee Stadium over 50 years ago. And so, another baseball fan was born. One generation to the next, indeed.
George Friedman and his wife Ellen are members of Congregation Beth Aaron, and have lived in Teaneck for 37 years. He is one of the co-owners of Lose-Win Situation. As Mets fans, he, his son, and grandson have tremendous emunah, which Chabad.org describes this as faith that is “not based on reason.” Despite his strenuous efforts, his other two offspring have no interest whatsoever in the sport.
By George Friedman
