The Rites of Autumn

September 24, 2008


One of the great rituals that takes place each fall in the United States is the winding down of the regular baseball season and the start of playoffs, culminating in the World Series in October.


Rituals are important things to have in a society. They allow us to maintain a sense of continuity with the past. They comfort us with the familiar. They give us a sense of fellowship. We know what to do and when to do it.

All baseball fans know that every fall, after many games played with other teams, men in uniforms of various colors, most of which are white, perform this ritual wherein they go out to a grassy field for a few hours of standing around, throwing, catching, and occasionally running, to see which team does these things the best. People sit in the stands, and watch them, and chat, and eat, and drink.

Perhaps because of its origins in an earlier, less frenetic time, baseball is the most pastoral, and has the most qualities of moderation, of all of the sports played at a professional level in America. The players, for example, are mostly average-sized, although exceptionally talented. The game is played during the spring, summer and early fall, when the temperatures are pretty mild, with the occasional heat wave or thunderstorm thrown in to make things interesting.

Players are asked to use their bodies fully, but not to excess. The number of pitches thrown by a pitcher are carefully monitored, and when the magic number of 100 is reached, frequently a pitcher is removed, so that he might be well to pitch another day. Baseball is just about the only professional team sport which is played by men in mid-life.

There is some activity, but it is far from non-stop; there are stretches of time when nothing much is happening. And then, a brief burst of excitement - a ball is thrown, and then hit, and the tension of seeing how far it goes. The batter runs, but not too far, hoping to make it to a base in time. Sometimes he makes it, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he runs all the way around, and the fans cheer wildly. Fielders stand around out in the grass, watching the action, sometimes running to make the catch but perhaps also having some time to think.

In the stands, we enjoy the feeling of being in the open air, with other people who are having fun. Hopefully, we do not lose the perspective that this is, after all, a game, and behave in immoderate ways, such as drinking too much and fighting with our neighbors who happen to be rooting for the other team. I live in suburban Philadelphia, and Phillies fans can take the game a little too seriously sometimes.

But much of the time, as the season winds down, we are just enjoying ourselves, fluttering our small white rally towels as once young ladies waved their scarves at jousting tournaments. For a few hours, we are united in a common purpose. We look toward the World Series, but even if our team does not make it this year, there is always next year. And the rites of autumn continue.