Religion and Baseball

Hank Aaron at bat for the Milwaukee Braves during the 1957 World Series against the New York Yankees. The Braves defeated the Yankees for the only World Series victory ever in Milwaukee, behind timely hitting of Aaron and Eddie Mathews, and the stellar pitching of Lew Burdette, who was named MVP. The rangy  31-year-old right-hander from West Virginia won three games in the series, two of them shut-outs. "I exploit the greed of all hitters," he said, according to the Baseball Almanac.

"Due to the World Series, we will adjourn class at 1 pm today and listen to the baseball game. Eddie Giddins was kind enough to bring his transistor radio to class."

The words of Sister Mary Gualberta shot through me like a fastball on its way to home plate.

Eddie looked around at our class of fifth graders, his face stretched into a toothsome grin, like he had eaten too much pre-Halloween candy that stuck his teeth together.

Covered in her long black habit, loosely cinched in the middle with a brown beaded belt that had a wooden crucifix dangling from its end, Sister G took Eddie's orange transistor and placed it on her desk in the front of the classroom. 

The only parts of Sister G still visible were her hands and the main parts of her face, but not her ears or hair. A starched white wimple appeared to hold what could be seen in place.

Even so, Sister G projected charisma. You could tell without seeing her body that her feet rested firmly on the floor. Her hawk-eyes beamed you in, her nose was slightly pointed and her lips might, at any minute, strike a devilish smile, like an exclamation point for something she had said.

"I like baseball!" she proclaimed. "This will be fun."

Acknowledged as the national pastime, baseball had by 1957 worked itself into the center of American culture, a field game of peculiar skills, beyond raw athletic ability and seemingly non-instinctual, although strength and agility are certainly at its core. The pace is slow, with sudden outbursts that require quick thinking and acting, driven by a number of options that need to be considered ahead of time. Some as simple as, who do I throw the ball to?

A popular comedy twosome named Abbott and Costello created an entire routine based on this premise, with Who on first base, What on second and I Don't Know on third.

A pitcher. A batter. And a ball. Backed up by two teams, played on a field of grass and dirt: an outfield and a diamond. What other game is played on a diamond? Outfields vary in size and configuration but the diamond is precise -- a 90-foot square tilted on its corner.

The annual matching of the two top professional teams in the best of seven games, is called the World Series, a proclamation of American exceptionalism and boastfulness. Only U.S. teams are eligible.

It would be 10 years before professional football reached the popularity and success of baseball. The first Super Bowl was held in 1967. Football is much more blood-sport than baseball. It is suited for television and has far surpassed baseball by all measure of material success.

Our class listened attentively, or at least silently, to the World Series game between the New York Yankees and the Milwaukee Braves. They were evenly matched with star players including Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Warren Spahn, Whitey Ford, Hank Aaron and Eddie Mathews. 

We felt a pleasant October breeze blow in through windows that had been opened on the west side of the room to cool us from the midday desert heat that generally had my arms dripping with perspiration from an active after-lunch recess. The timing was perfect. 

Baseball gave us an excuse to be idle (the bane of a Catholic mind; the Devil’s workshop), to listen and wonder about what we were hearing. Pitches and strikes. The crack of a ball and bat. The roar of the crowd. The voices of the broadcasters telling stories and describing the action.

Sister G seized the occasion for a lesson.

"We have a man on first base with one out," she said. "Three outs and the other team gets to bat. What are the best choices for the batter?"

"Get a hit," said Eddie.

"Yes," Sister replied, "but there are other strategies. One would be for the runner on first to steal second base and eliminate the chance for a double play if the batter were to hit a ground ball. Or the batter could sacrifice bunt to move the runner to second base and scoring position.The batter would likely be thrown out at first.

"Baseball, you see, involves stealing and sacrifice."

"It's a sin to steal," said Jackie at the front of the class.

"The rules of baseball allow stealing," said Sister G.

The room went silent for a second before Stephen yelled from the back, "I like that rule!"

Laughter erupted.

On that day for the couple of idle hours while baseball broadcast from the tiny transistor radio, baseball had trotted in to relieve our commanding Hero. His name was Jesus. At the top of every paper or test we turned in, we signed the letters, JMJ, which stood for the Holy Family: Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Our work was dedicated in their honor.

Our salutation when a sister or priest entered the classroom was, “Praise be Jesus Christ, good morning Sister (or Father)! Delivered in unison, the sweet voices of prepubescent children must have ascended like a choir of cherubs.

Regardless of what we accomplished or how we played, Sister G reminded us, Jesus made the greatest sacrifice: He suffered and died for our sins.

The Milwaukee Braves won the 1957 World Series, the first and only time in their history. I now knew where Milwaukee was located. 

Still today, I am drawn to the drama of the annual rite of the World Series. I enjoy watching the players, their actions and inactions -- the focus and concentration on their faces -- up close on a TV screen. 

I have learned that in games and in life sacrifice, the transcendence of self for a higher purpose, is sometimes the best choice.