Thirty years ago I was in high school and I was a huge sports fan. I was just about to turn 18. My passion was sports. Baseball, football, equestrian events, horse racing, boxing, I loved it all.
But baseball was special. My mom, my favorite aunt, and several of my teachers had taught me to love the sport. While I leaned toward horse racing and all other events equestrian back then (and still do), they taught me to love baseball for its unique qualities. It’s slower pace requiring patience, building suspense, allowing leisurely spectator participation. And baseball lacked football’s violence, horse racing's thrilling speed, equestrian eventing’s dramatic galloping and jumping. I love horse eventing. So why does baseball, with it’s sometimes snail’s pace attract anyone let alone me, a speed junky?
Perhaps because of it’s slow pace it attracts us. Baseball lends its leisurely pleasures to us and we crave the very opportunity to slow down, savor the moment, relax.
Tonight my passion is in sports once again. It's not an everyday thing anymore though I follow NFL football closer than my husband does. He'll do outdoor chores while I watch Sunday morning football on TWO televisions at once.
And for awhile I fell out of love with baseball. The people who brought it to me vividly (my Mom and my Aunt) died. Baseball fell off my radar because, for awhile, it hurt too much to watch without them.
In 2004 Boston's victory over NY thrilled us, the lovers of the underdog were overjoyed. And baseball was back on my radar along with the precious memories that came with it.
Then yesterday (Thursday) I was listening to a morning show while reading my email and heard a familiar voice. I looked up and saw an older man and listened again. I cocked my head in glimmering recognition. Then yelled out, "Reggie!"
Back in 1977, when I was a baseball fanatic and a fan of the NY Yankees via my Mom's love of them, and also a San Francisco Giants fan and an Oakland A's follower by proximity (I had lived in the San Francisco East Bay since I was 2) I became a firm fan of Reggie Jackson.
While I formed a fascination in late 2004 with Boston precisely because they were underdogs and delivered a fulfilling season and post season, oddly enough, or maybe not, my love of underdog Boston curls around on my love of the one-time underdog Reggie. Back in 1977, when I was a senior in high school, Reggie was having a rough time.
That Fall, while the NY Yankees performed well and went on to win the playoffs and World Series, Reggie suffered a hitless streak not to be forgotten. It pained his fans – me included – to watch.
I bet my favorite English teacher, Chuck Foster, that Reggie would hit a home run that night. It was completely based on my love of Reggie and my faith he had to eventually make a comeback and boy, did he ever. Reggie Jackson hit THREE home runs that night. And for me those were the shots heard round the world.
Jackson's crowning achievement came with his three-home-run performance in Game 6, each on the first pitch, off three different Dodger pitchers.
I was gleeful that night and the next day when I collected my dime bet. Yes, as in ten cents. It wasn’t about the money, it was about love of the game and belief in one of my all time favorite players. All for the love of Reggie.
In an era where sports heroes are less than heroic - OJ Simpson, Marion Jones, Barry Bonds - Reggie Jackson still looks like a hero to me.
