Monday, September 22, 2008

Phickle Thoughts

I want to write something, but I'm not quite sure what, so I'll just put up a Phickle Thoughts.
It's been one of those nights; where I'm really feeling metaphysically weighted. It's not depressing, or somber (though that word covers a little of the meaning), it's just as if I feel the weight of being. I'm feeling somehow hyper-aware of my existence, in an almost spiritual, or at least super-natural, fashion. Does anyone know what I mean? Does anyone else ever get this?

Maybe it's why I feel like writing, to try to tap into it a little more. My descriptive powers, limited as they may be, seem to be escaping me though.
The final game was played at Old Yankee Stadium tonight. Pretty momentous really. I've never been, and I guess I never will, but I still appreciate the history of the building. I'd probably feel worse about never getting there if the new one were going to be significantly different, but since they'll be largely the same, I'm more ok with it.

To commemorate the final game, Mrs. Fickle and I watched Pride of the Yankees. For those not in-the-know, it's a based-on-a-true-story film about Lou Gehrig. The man was simply amazing. Every time I see a clip from the Luckiest Man on Earth speech I tear up. Babe Ruth was the greatest ballplayer ever, but Lou Gehrig might have been the best person ever to play ball.

I really admire the Iron Man record in baseball. Lou Gehrig is amazing, and Cal Ripken Jr. was always my favorite non-Twins player when I was growing up. I remember watching him break the consecutive games record. It was awesome. I suppose it's sort of strange that I love the Iron Man record as much as I do, given that I'm the type who has no problem knocking-off work early if things are slow (not, of course, from my current job where there is always a ton of work), or missing a day of class here or there for little-to-no reason. Maybe because it's baseball. It's a game. It's perfect. There's simply no need for a break from baseball. Rain, shine, tidal wave, whatever.
I'm reminded, of course, of Kirby Puckett's approach: you play every game like it might be your last, because you never know when it will be.

I always thought of Puckett's glaucoma and Lou Gehrig's ALS as uniquely similar. Two brilliant players, still around the prime of their career, who had their days cut short by rare medical conditions. Both players were known for their hustle, their love of the game. Both players appreciated that it was a game, and that they were lucky to be playing.
Alright. That's enough. I'm tearing up again. Wow I love baseball.

Why you think we need amazing grace
Just to tell it like it is?


Mike said...

I went to Yankee Stadium once. It's everything they say. End of an era.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Jeff said...

Sometimes I look at my feet and think, "wow, my feet are far away, but they're still part of me, and that's weird." I don't know if that's what you're referring to, but I feel that sometimes.