Week 44 – Spirits

 

The word “spirits” can mean several things. I could write pages of stories on my ancestors who owned “houses of entertainment,” others who made bootleg whiskey, some that drank to excess. I could also write about the pioneering spirit enjoyed by others.  Or since we’re nearing Halloween, I could tell tales of my possessed Salem witch ancestors (alas, if I had any). Instead, I’m going to tell you about “team spirit” which is quite fitting since many of us are currently exhibiting signs of World Series fever. Just a few weeks ago, two Texas teams battled it out for the American League Conference title. Living in Texas, my social media was full of friends cheering on one side or the other. Mostly all in fun, there was still a lot of trash talking going on.  But as one Texas team had to come out the victor, I can mostly guarantee that now ALL my Texas friends are rooting for Rangers to bring home the Commissioner’s Trophy.

Baseball has been around since the middle of the 1800s when Abner Doubleday of Cooperstown, New York introduced what would become America’s past time. During the Civil War, it became a national sport being taught by Union soldiers to prisoners in the south who weren’t as familiar with the game.  It’s been played overseas since World War I by our service men.  Although attendance fell drastically at professional baseball games during the depression, it rebounded after World War II. Baseball in America is historic. Thirty Major League baseball fields dot the United States, the oldest being Fenway Park which opened in Boston in 1912.  In the words of Jimmy Buffett, “These old ballparks are like cathedrals in America. We don’t have big old Gothic cathedrals like they do in Europe. But we got baseball parks.” (RIP JB)

Between 1912-1918, the Hydro Baseball team played all around Caddo, Blaine and Custer counties in Oklahoma.  The team was not part of the school district, as they are today, but they were a group of young men who just liked to play the game.  As a source of fun and camaraderie, these boys played lights out. Many newspaper accounts of their games tell of them almost always emerging as the victor, against teams such as Lookeba, Binger, Fost and Pleasant Valley.  The articles also tell us they had quite a following, and people drove for miles just to watch them play.  On the team for at least some of those years was my grandfather, Glen Ditmore (right), his brother, Carl (seated) and their sister’s husband, Fred Pennington (left). The photo of them in their uniforms is one of my favorite old photos of all time.

When I was a little girl and visited Moberly, Missouri with my grandmother in the summer, I spent a lot of time hanging out with my great-uncle Bill.  He taught me how to play the card games “Gin Rummy” and “Casino”, how to whistle, and that the Saint Louis Cardinals were the best baseball team in the history of the world. Uncle Bill camped out most days at his “entertainment center” – an old card table where, of course, we played cards, but also where his AM/FM radio was kept.  If the Cards were playing, we were listening to the game.  He explained all there was to know about baseball, and it didn’t take long before I was caught up in “Red Bird Fever.”  My dad’s cousin and his family lived in Moberly and his son played baseball, so I was included in many game days at the local field, but every few weeks, they would take me to Saint Louis to see the Cardinals play in person in the recently completed Busch Memorial Stadium (even if it was from the nosebleed section). Living in Texas, I am surrounded by Ranger and Astros fans but much to the chagrin of my Texas family and friends, I am, and will always be, a Saint Louis Cardinals fan.  “Go Cards!”

My grandson, Jackson, picked up a baseball before he could walk. By his second birthday, his wind-up was exceptional.  Before he turned three, he could throw a baseball in the air and hit it with his bat.  Wherever he was, there was a baseball.  Tossing it down the hall for the dog to retrieve; or just tossing it in the air to catch with his mitt.  The boy loves the game and there is no doubt in my mind it’s because it’s in his blood, passed down to him from grandfathers, uncles, and cousins who cherished the game as he does.  He has played on a team since he was four.  Every weekend you will find his family cheering on the Community Braves or the North Texas Elite (he plays on two teams). Often, I get to watch via the internet (I wish I lived closer). Whichever team he is playing for is my favorite team.

“And they’ll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They’ll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steam rollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Oh…people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.”  Terrence Mann, Field of Dreams

Every single one of us knows about baseball, whether we’ve never attended a game, or are avid (or rabid, as the case may be) fans.  It is as American as apple pie, or the National Anthem. Regardless of politics, religion, or any cultural difference, baseball brings us all together to root for the home team; to cheer for our favorite players; and to display our team spirit.  Perhaps we all need a little more baseball in our lives.