Examining identity and passion

What is passion and identity? Can these qualities be explained? Does a baseball team “define” you? Is it possible to change an identity?

My daily routine revolves around baseball. I plan my errands and social life around the Red Sox and Phillies game. Each day, I attempt to watch or listen to the games. My emotions are tied to the outcome of the games.

Now that I live out of market, I will drive to a bar and watch the games by myself. To me, this is one of the best ways to end a long day at work. I can leave all of my stress and focus on the game. Occasionally I wonder why I’m sitting there, but I’ve accepted that I will go to extremes to follow my passion. Also, watching baseball, I notice new issues and motivation to work in baseball. I am proud that baseball is a part of my identity. Baseball is an important part in my life and I enjoy that my new co-workers describe me to other employees as “the Red Sox fan.” 

Identity and passion is ingrained in a person. There is no way that the Red Sox and Phillies will be taken away from me by someone else. I will enter friendly debates with co-workers about the Yankees. For example, I joke with my boss that I’m surprised that I have touched the Yankee trash can. Also, the trash can was one of the first things that I noticed at my new job.

I’m curious about the point where baseball became one of my identities. I want to explore this theory and how it affects friendships, and other parts of society. Who is a “diehard” fan? What makes a diehard fan? Is it passion and identity or does it depend on other factors?

Quote: “Since baseball is only defined in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly; keep hitting, keep the rally alive, and you have defeated time. You remain forever young.” - Roger Angell

Empty diamonds

There is something magical about empty baseball diamonds. Over the past six months I have watched baseball at various times during the day. In March, I experienced my first spring training in Clearwater, Florida. The Philadelphia Phillies call Clearwater their spring training home. Each March, fans make the pilgrimage from the cold Northeast to the sunny Gulf Coast of Florida, not only for warm weather, but to scout the new prospects, players and veterans. 

Booking my spring break trip, all I knew was that I was going to sit at the minor league complex all day. Little did I know that this trip would change my life. One morning, I watched the sunrise over the complex. It was one of the most peaceful moments of the day. I sat on the bleachers watching the grounds crew perfect the dirt around home plate with the sun rising behind me. A few players walked out of the clubhouse to stretch and jog, but mostly, I was alone attempting to control my excitement for the day ahead. Looking out at the emptiness of the diamond, the perfectly cut grass and raked dirt, calmed me down and exemplified the simplicity of the game.

Over the summer, I attended a few Red Sox games at Fenway. Walking up the tunnel, gives me the same rush today as it did when I was young. Reaching the end of the tunnel, the field is in sight and I can’t help but smile. One amazing part of the game is that in between innings, the field is barely empty. There is always one player walking off while the next player is running out to their position. Even though it is a new inning, there is never a “clean field” to symbolize the new beginning. It’s a constant cycle of players on and off the field. I always stay until the crowd files out, and I am in a sea of empty seats. The field still looks perfect and empty. I look around, realize that the lights are almost off and then head out to the busy world outside of the old ballpark. I am in a fog walking down Landsdowne Street to Brookline Ave and into Kenmore Square. I am still looking up at the dark wall and that the perfect field is ready for another game tomorrow. 

An empty ballpark is a place where I have no worries, fears, or concerns. It takes me away from the “real world” and places me in a calmer state. I can sit at a ballpark for hours and it’s always changing. It might be subtle changes, but the sun is always hitting the walls and press box at different angles each day. All ballparks and people are unique. Staring at an empty diamond slows life down for that moment in time and resets my brain. 

Quote: “Don’t tell me about the world. Not today. It’s springtime and they’re knocking baseball around fields where grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball.” - Pete Hamill

Beginning of the adventure

Right now I’m researching and trying to figure out the topic for my documentary. I want the documentary to present all sides of the issue from the fans, employees, players and owners. My plan is to use the off season to read a few books and contact various baseball teams in North Carolina. Depending on my topic, I will contact professional teams as well. 

Currently, I am reading Shane Victorino’s book about his journey from Hawaii to roaming centerfield for the Philadelphia Phillies. 

My next book is Bill White’s autobiography. I am excited to read his story and the obstacles that he faced to become successful. 

I am passionate about baseball and viewing the game from a purist perspective. I believe that baseball is ingrained in American culture and there is something special about the game. The speed, the intensity, the fans, the issues, the strategy, playing every day and viewing the players as ordinary people following their passion. I want to investigate how social issues and history have impacted baseball and how it is connected to today. 

I’m going to end each post with a quote… it might be funny or serious and doesn’t necessarily connect to my documentary. 

“People ask me what I do in the winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”- Rogers Hornsby