The Boys of Summer

I haven't posted in a while, because, frankly, I haven't had much to kvetch about. I could complain about my crazy schedule, but it actually gives me a lot of time off. I could complain about the fact that I can't even make grass grow, but that could be less me than many years of lawn-neglect by previous owners. I could complain again about idiots blocking my driveway now that school is back in session, but that's just tired. So instead I'm pondering baseball and the lessons sport teaches.

I am working the rest of the weekend, so I'm currently watching my last Nationals game of the year. If you didn't know it by now, I'm a bit obsessed. The Nationals were expected to be not just the worst baseball team in the Major Leagues this year, but possibly the worst team of all time. Let me reiterate: OF ALL TIME.

That's a pretty significant standard to reach. The New York Mets in their first year had a record of 42-120. In baseball, no matter how bad your team is, it's almost impossible to lose more than 100 games. It happens rarely. It's just the nature of the sport that even if you suck, you'll have good days. The Nationals are winning tonight, and if they hold on, will have won 72 games, with three to go, leading to a record of 72-87. NOBODY predicted this. They have done it with a mix of unknowns, cast-offs, and never-again-will-bes. And one hell of a manager. I have been extremely pleased.

So I know that nobody else reading this cares very much about baseball. But this story is bigger than the sport. It shows the incredible positive power of drive and desire. Especially since very few of the players that have made this team what it is have much talent. You could explain their record if it was caused by rookies that exceeded expectations, or older players who magically found their old form. Neither of these things happened (with one exception of a player who had legal and substance-abuse problems who managed to turn things around). They just never gave up, and always fought to the last out. They had some really bad losses (a lot of them), but so many games that were close that they managed to win.

So this is a really long-winded analogy about something I lack: drive and desire. I have never been one to push myself as hard as I could. When I played baseball in high school, I had a modicum of talent, but I never did the things I needed to do to improve and continue to compete: lift weights to compensate for my fire-pole physique, learn how to throw a different pitch to throw off hitters, or do any number of other small things to increase my chance of continuing to play. Not that I ever would have played at a higher level than college rec-softball, because I didn't have THAT much talent, but I might have at least learned something about myself. Today I'm still a beanpole, but a beanpole with a paunch, because I still hate to work out. I don't bust my ass at work, because I have done very well for myself by putting out a normal level of effort. But where could I be now if I put in that extra effort?

So to conclude this long-winded sack of crap, what I admire in my beloved Nationals is what I lack in myself: Desire and Drive. Don't tell me sport doesn't imitate life.