America's Pastime

So I feel like I have several things to blog on, and even would love to post some pictures of events from this last week, but, alas, I left my camera at one such event, and therefore, at least for now, I will have to try to make do with words...

I got a call from my mother on Monday afternoon. "Krista, you know the Diamondbacks made the playoffs." They did? What kind of a fan have I become that I didn't even realize this young team of no-names has made it to the playoffs? The kind of fan who doesn't even realize we have a young team of no-names. To demonstrate how sad this state of affairs is, let me explain a bit of my history with the Diamondbacks.

To start, I must go back to before the Diamondbacks were even a twinkle in Jerry Colangelo's eye. It starts with my mother. I grew up with a sports fanatic of a mother. Football is her first love, and to try to get her three daughters interested in the game, she would give us a piece of candy when her favorite team, the Denver Broncos, would score a touchdown. So, I learned to root for the Broncos, and I understand the basics of the game, but for some reason I never really grew a love for football.

Fast forward to high school. The Diamondbacks bring Major League Baseball to Arizona. Not exactly being a sports fan, this wasn't a life-changing thing for me...yet. After a few outings to Bank One Ballpark with my high school's Fellowship of Christian Athletes (no, I am not an athlete; yes, I was a part of this club), I began to grow a slight interest in the team. Lo and behold, my mom suddenly had a fellow sports fan in her daughter. We started to go to the games together, and soon enough the Diamondbacks players were household names. A friend taught us how to score the games, and my love for the strategy and anticipation of what some might call a "slow" sport continued to grow. We had season tickets for the 2001 season, and together my mom and I had a sweet bond each time we stepped into the ballpark on game day. Well, with that fateful season we watched Curt Shilling and Randy Johnson pitch their way into history and cheered as Luis Gonzalez homered his way into the record books. I moved down to Tucson for my first year at the U of A, and had to watch my beloved team make their way to the playoffs on TV. When they continued to advance and finally made it into the World Series against the Yankees, nothing could keep me away. I went with my mom to games 1 and 2, and watched in horror on TV as Byung-Hyun Kim killed our chances for a sweep as we lost games 3, 4, and 5. The teams returned to Phoenix for game 6, and I had to relinquish my ticket to my brother (of course, this was only fair, but it was hard for me at the time). Not to be left out of the atmosphere, I joined several hundred other fans in the streets outside of the ballpark to watch the game projected on a big screen. We won, and now the series would be decided by game 7. I'm not sure if it's possible to describe what it was like to be in that stadium with close to 50,000 other screaming fans during that game. I hardly remember the game leading up to the ninth inning. I do distinctly remember going into the bottom of the ninth, my team losing to the Yankees, with all hope everything but extinguished. I've never heard 50,000 people so quiet. It was eerie as the air took on the hush of the crowd and a dust storm swept through the ballpark, casting a sepia-toned hue on the scene. As the D-Backs began to hit and get on base and then even score, it was like a spell lifted from the crowd, and suddenly my mom and I joined our fellow fans in a cacophonous roar like nothing I've heard before or since. Luis Gonazalez hit the most beautiful blooper I've ever seen to score Jay Bell for the win, and I screamed and hugged my mom and hugged the strangers next to me and hugged my mom and screamed, and enjoyed the most exciting entertainment moment of my life. It was incredible.

I have to admit, after such a season, it was hard for me to watch my team begin to falter in subsequent seasons. With the increasing busy-ness of school and a life outside of Phoenix, I no longer had time to watch the games. Now, being on staff with The Navigators, it seems I have even less time to watch baseball. And so, it comes that this season I only watched one complete game, I don't know the names of the players on my team, and my mother has to inform me over the phone that they've made it to the playoffs. What kind of a fan have I become?

Well, mom didn't call just to inform me of the team's success, she called to invite me to the first playoff game last Wednesday against the Cubs. As I watched this new team in new colors play in a ballpark with a new name, I was grateful not to have lost my old love for watching a ballgame with my mother. It was a sweet thing to share with her once again. And let me not fail to mention that the Diamondbacks won that game as well as the next two to sweep the Cubbies and head to the NLCS.

When I get my camera back, I'll be sure to post some pictures...