SaturdayOct 17, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
I was always matching wits with authority. Pondering over my past and present hassles, I began to wonder why my life had taken the direction it had. What cosmic forces had led me to this precise moment that saw me, once again, dancing on the rim of the volcano? The answers started to come to me as my life flashed before my eyes. I think it all started when I was arrested as a pyromaniac.
During those moments on the pitching rubber, when you have every pitch at your command working to its highest potential, you are your own universe. For hours after the game, this sense of completeness lingers. Then you sink back to what we humorously refer to as reality. Your body aches and your muscles cry out. You feel your mortality. That can be a difficult thing to handle. I believe pitchers come in touch with death a lot sooner than other players. We are more aware of the subtle changes taking place in our body and are unable to overlook the tell-tale hints that we are not going to last on this planet forever. Every pitcher has to be a little bit in love with death. There's a subconscious fatalism there.
I stopped watching the game and sat back to watch the fans. It was like watching a Fassbinder film, depicting mankind at its most berserk. The experience made me wonder if we're not breeding a society that lacks self-esteem. I don't think we pat people on the back enough, letting them know that being able to fix a sink is just as much skill as being able to get Rod Carew out with the bases loaded. And more worthwhile, if you were to ask me. People must be made to feel their value. Otherwise, when they discover they can't find any thrills in religion or in cults, they head out to the ballpark, seeking a vicarious sense of fulfilment. They're tired of long-term reality; they don't recognize what it has to offer them. All they want is one good fantasy. Realizing that really shook me up.
It's no wonder that our priorities got screwed up. Just because a person can throw a ball harder or hit it further than most ordinary human beings, he is placed on a pedestal at an early age. I don't think there is anything wrong with admiring an exceptionally skilled person, but the hero-worship we shower on athletes goes beyond that. This is a part of the tribal influence handed down by our ancestors. Man has always been lionized for his physical prowess. An Indian brave did not have to pass a math quiz in order to become a chief, he just had to tear the ass off some bear. And the twelve labours of Hercules did not include a Regents' exam. Society has tended to find its heroes in the most obvious arenas, and I don't regard that as a healthy thing. We should find our heroes in the bathroom mirror each and every morning.
Alcohol is like anything else. It's only as bad as the person it's being poured into. If it's used to heighten an occasion, or to take an edge off stress, I don't see a problem. Trouble starts when you either lose control and let the bottle run you, or when you believe its promises of immortality. You realize that no matter how much you punish yourself, you always seem to wake up the next day. Pretty soon you're convinced that you will never die. When that happens I guess it is time to look for help before your life becomes one long, lost weekend.
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