Up until Tuesday evening, I

hadn't watched an entire major league baseball game this

season. The baseball strike pretty much ruined me for

big-time baseball. Since the strike, I haven't bought a

baseball ticket, haven't spent any money on caps,

jerseys, or any of that other stuff, and haven't really

cheered for any major league team. Not even Atlanta.

The strike soured me on

professional baseball. To me, there was about as much

excitement found in pulling for Coke against Pepsi, or

America On Line against Mindspring. It's just hard to

really get excited about being loyal to a business,

which, as the strike demonstrated, is what professional

baseball is all about.

Rich, young whiners, who

still throw spit and sling snot in public, demanding to

be even richer while rich, arrogant owners insisted on

being even richer and more arrogant - to me that was

major league baseball.

Yet, with all that, I still

believe that baseball mirrors life more accurately than

any other sport. In the other major sports, boxers can be

saved by a bell, football teams can extend the time on a

clock and play for a tie, while basketball teams can make

three seconds last for an eternity with their endless

time-outs.

But baseball... well,

baseball is a bit like life. There are standouts, of

course, but baseball is the only sport where you can be a

failure and still be successful. A batter can go to the

plate and strikeout six times out of 10, but if he is

able to hit only four out of 10 consistently, he will be

an all-star and a rich man.

Babe Ruth, the "sultan

of swat," was also the "strikeout king."

I like a sport that teaches

that one don't have to be perfect to succeed. Baseball,

like life, often consists of long, boring, dull stretches

of innings punctuated by incredible activity and

excitement. One game, in a 164-game season, is really not

all that important. One day does not usually a season

make.

Yet, a string of bad days

can sink a team for good while enough good days can put

you in the playoffs. Life is like that. You can have a

really, really bad day, but as Miss Scarlett once said,

"Tomorrow is a brand new day!"

Like life, baseball is both

a team effort and an individual accomplishment. A team

can have eight great players but, if the pitcher is

inept, the team will suffer and probably lose.

Conversely, a Cy Young Award winning hurler is useless

without the skills of infielders, outfielders, the

catcher, and strong batters.

One can be a hero today and

a pathetic loser tomorrow, as the New York Mets relief

pitcher discovered on Tuesday night. In fact, if only one

player, say the left fielder, is asleep for even one

play, he can cost the team a victory if his mind is not

on the task at hand.

And, also like life,

unknown reservists who have spent their whole

professional life on the bench can, in a glorious moment

in history, come on to the field to achieve heroic

heights and lead the team to sweet victory, before

retreating back into the shadows of obscurity.

Fat guys can be outstanding

pitchers and little runts can be power hitters. Baseball

rewards hard work and dedication and terribly punishes

the unprepared.

Yet, the thing I like most

is that "it ain't over till it's over." In

football, basketball, hockey, and the rest, a team can

get behind to the point that it is virtually pointless to

continue the battle. In high school, a football team two

touchdowns down is psychologically down for the count. It

may take three touchdowns in college and more in the

pros, but there reaches a point when, even the gamest of

the game raises the white flag.

In baseball, the Mets can

be down 5-0 in the first inning and battle back to take

the lead 8-7. No lead is insurmountable in baseball; no

victory is totally out of reach. The clock doesn't run

out, the score doesn't get too high - you play until

you win or lose. If a team doesn't quit, nothing is

impossible - just like life.

And when it all comes down

to it, a baseball player will not be judged on his

personality, his wealth, his poverty, his education, or

his color. He will, in the final analysis, be judged on

his performance. He will be judged on what he has

contributed to the game. And that's just like life, too.

Which is why I was back in

front of the television last Tuesday, watching the Braves

play the Mets. By the eleventh inning I was tense,

hoarse, and overdosing on an adrenaline surge.

There I was, the old cynic,

cheering for the Braves, mentally doing the chop, and

forgetting all about the strike, the whining

millionaires, and the fat-cat owners. All that mattered

was baseball.

As the evening progressed,

there were fantastic comebacks, heroics, impossible

plays, cheers, and groans.

In the end, the game was

won not by a grand slam, nor by a close play at the

plate. A nervous pitcher, in an impossibly difficult

situation, threw just a few bad pitches and walked in the

winning run. Stupid mistakes in baseball can have awesome

consequences - just like life.

Maybe next year, I'll buy a

ticket or two. I might even purchase a Braves baseball

cap. In the meantime, I will loosen up my "chopping

arm," practice the eerie chant heard in the Atlanta

stadium, and park myself in front of the TV set.

"C'mon guys! Stomp those Yankees!" Ah, this is

the life!

[Father David Epps is

rector of Christ the King Church, meeting at 10 a.m. each

Sunday in the Carmichael-Hemperley building on Ga.

Highway 74 in Peachtree City. He can be contacted online

at [email protected] .