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Author: Sarah Scherschligt
Last night the Minnesota Twins won a playoff game against the Detroit Tigers. For all the Minnesota fans, it was a thrilling night. The Twins had been marching soundly in the last month toward what seemed an impossible goal: catching Detroit. Last night in the twelfth inning of a one-game tie-breaker, they did it.
I’m headed to the garage after I write this to see if I can find my ’91 homer hankie packed away. For all you who think “homer hankie” is a dorky term, you’re right. But part of the ritual of being a Twins fan is that when they go into the playoffs you wave a handkerchief during the game.
Do you ever wonder what aliens would think if they landed in your life?
Certainly, they’d think something strange about last night. My housemate – also a Minnesotan with fond memories of past Twins victories – texted me during my church meeting to give updates. I raced home and we huddled around our TV to watch the final innings. Here’s the thing – neither of us has seen a Twins game for YEARS, but we are now rearranging our schedules to watch the playoffs.
There was something familiar about the hand signs, the fielders shifting with each new batter, the long waits, the nervous managers spitting their chew, the voice: “a swing and a miss,” and the field. Both of us grew up watching the Twins play in the Metrodome and though it’s hardly an ideal stadium for baseball (one commenter said: you’d like hell too if you grew up in it), it’s familiar. Last night could have been the last Twins game in the Metrodome because they have a new stadium. I didn’t want to miss it.
Baseball became part of my identity when I was very small. My dad always had the game on. My folks took us kids to baseball games waaay before we could really enjoy it (I was more fascinated with watching the mascots and ballboys than the score). Going to the Metrodome wasn’t just about what was happening on the field. It was the whole experience.
Countless commentaries have been made comparing baseball and religion. Here’s another. If you marinate in baseball as a child, there’s a familiarity that sticks even if you aren’t really a fan when you become and adult. Same goes for religion.
I’m sure aliens would wonder about church as much as they’d wonder about baseball.
The clothing, the songs, the handsigns, the choreography, the building, the communion. It’s strange to the outside. But if you grew up with this stuff, it’s so familiar that you feel comfortable with these complex rituals. If you were raised in a church, even if you haven’t been back for YEARS, you can click right in provided nothing’s changed.
And there’s the rub. Religion and baseball, they change. The basics stay the same. But some of the trappings shift. We get new church buildings and they aren’t filled with the same sacred memories. We get new songs and some of them sound downright hokey. I understand a bit more, having gloried in the Twins win last night, just why change is so hard in a church.
Ironically, change might be harder for those who’ve drifted away. We just want to tune in occasionally to find that it’s all the same. Last night I didn’t want anything to be different, including the players! I really wanted to be watching the ’91 Twins team that I loved.
But the homer hankie was new once too. Kirby Puckett was a rookie. And how often did I go inside the Metrodome on a gorgeous summer day wishing they played outside? Regardless of what happens with the rest of this season, I’m a fan again. Can’t wait for the next season and the new stadium. Go Twins!
