baseball and eschatology: when the mariner's bullpin comes out, start praying "come quickly lord!"

there we sat, 30 rows from the field and half way between home plate and first base. the pitching from the other team was awe-inspiring...from our team, awful. two boys sitting next to us shouted excitedly for every batter. jeremy reed really isn't a baseball player's name - there's nothing to shout. still, one boy shouted "JER-EM-Y!" and the other tagged, "REED!" their refusal to see the game for what it was, a total disappointment - after a high-scoring season, birthed great respect for thses pre-pubescent sports enthusiasts.

at one point, we left our awesome seats to get dinner. two sandwihes and two soft drinks. and your total is: $27.50. ,i could hear the boys chanting for the triumphant tyrant who had claimed such a prize for two sad sad sandwiches and pepsi brand soft drinks: "let's go" "price gaugers!" "let's go" "price gaugers!" or "extra extra" "read all about it" "you got taken" "no doubt about it!" "gooooooooo capitolistically over-financed mariner's owners! yeah!"

in the middle of the game, i found out why my uncle had invited me: "your parents told me you've had a lot of stress in your life." i don't know why, but i was surprised by that statement. "oh, you mean the death"

a bewildered look overtook my uncle's face. death? the capitol hill thing? did you know someone there?

i explainded the connection and was too weary and too aware that we were in excellent seats at a mariner's game to be present to it or to recieve sympathy.
"it wasn't one of the really young ones was it?"
"he was 21"
"oh, good, you know - at least he was an adult. i was worried when i first herad about it that it might be my friend's daughter....blah blah blah....i'm not going to see you in this...blah blah blah....you know?"
"yeah, i totally agree....blah blah blah...that's fine - i'm tired anyway and quite used to not being seen...blah blah blah...so, yeah, it's good that your friend's daughter doesn't go to raves in seattle."

- long pause before it hits me -

"what did my parent's say i'm stressed out about?"
"well, you aren't going to be able to go to ireland this summer and your cousin's wedding is stressing you out."

my indifference turned quickly to rage - HAS MY COUSIN'S NARCISSISM INFECTED MY PARENTS TOO! DO THEY NOT SEE THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE GOING ON HERE!? DO THEY NOT UNDERSTAND THAT THE VERY REASON MY COUSIN'S NARCISSISM IS STRESSING ME OUT IS BECAUSE SHE REFUSED TO SEE HOW CHRIS' DEATH WAS AFFECTING ME!?!

i explained to my uncle WHY my cousin's wedding was stressing me out. he said, "wow," stared off into space then noted, "they're finally warming up the bullpin - hopefully things will change."

things didn'tchange. the bullpin made things worse (an utterly familiar feeling for mariner's fans). why did he flee a difficult present to a knowingly hopeless and inconsequential future? the same reason the church runs to the doctrine of soveriegnty in the face of evil. God's soveriegnty doesn't make pain like that inflicted by the massacre go away. it never, this side of eternity, seems to make sense either - unless we force it to - like a puzzle piece that just doesn't fit. can't we sit in the evil of this world and see it as that without running to something pretty - or an excuse for something pretty - ie a mariner's relief pitcher?

sometimes the only solace at a mariner's game is that this game will end. the suffering of no hits and shitty pitching will come to an end and we'll all leave this stadium, where we are so proud of our status, where we cheer for something we have no control over, as though it gave us control, where they bring a clown dressed as a moose out to cheer us up, and make us care about a game that's depressing us and is not of ultimate value. the fact we learn is that there is inexplicable suffering at safeco stadium. we don't try to say the coach is soveriegn when he leaves a dying pitcher in. we just, in our wise moments, sigh, realizing we are not in control, and turn to - rather than away from - that eschatological moment when this suffering will end, and we will trudge through traffic to our homes where warm beds, freinds/family, exquisite food, and possibly even a roaring fire (in the fire place) waits to welcome us into reality.