Friday, May 1, 2015

What If They Played a Game and Nobody Came?

While the beating heart of America pulsed and hissed, filling the air with havoc and pain, inside Camden Yards there was silence, punctuated only by the solitary pop of the glove or crack of the bat. It was vivid reminder that life is not a game, that sport, filled with its metaphors and hyperbole is nothing more than distraction. The energy we invest in loving and hating, living and dying with those who toil on its stage is but illusion.

These stadiums serve as our cocoon, our harbor,and haven, where we congregate to escape the often harsh realities of the day.  And when there is emptiness here, it is a stark declaration that what is transpiring beyond its borders is too volatile, too  encompassing, too critical to allow us the luxury of sport. It is in the vast expanse of empty seats that the limits of the game is defined.

In the city of Baltimore, in the aftermath of the killing, in the wake of its violence, in the depth of its despair, the game of baseball played out in eerie solitude. We all waited outside its gates, anxious for the moment when the anguish would subside, the hatred recede, the heat dissipate and the doors open once more to provide us shelter, at least for a little while, from the raging storm.,

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