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Baseball comes through National pastime helps the healing process
PHILADELPHIA -- Braves pitcher Greg Maddux immediately noticed something odd Monday night as he ran sprints in the outfield at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, preparing for his start in an important pennant race game. "No obscenities," he said. This was a very different night, the night baseball returned after a six-day pause following the terrorist attacks on America. It was a night of tears, sorrow, pride and patriotism. Mostly, though, it was a night of unity. "Usually you come in here and you're the enemy," Maddux said after the game, "but I got the sense everybody realized we're on the same team. What it comes down to is players on both teams are on the same team. It was enjoyable being out there. You actually felt privileged to be out there. You felt pride in performing. You really did.'' Baseball did its small but unmistakable part in helping America work toward returning to its sense of normalcy. The television set may drone on, movies may still play and Broadway curtains may still rise, but baseball offers us a more familial, communal experience. We sit together not in the dark, but under the sun or stars, with a sense of participation and a sense of something shared. It is our modern New England village green. So it was Monday night in Philadelphia. It was baseball, stripped down to rooted simplicity, at its best. Gone was the bloated excess, the self-importance and the over-production of what modern baseball has allowed itself to become. The videoboard did not blare commercials or tell people when to clap and when to make noise. Nobody shot hot dogs into the crowd. The Philly Phanatic, the Phillies' furry, hyperactive mascot, was barred from the field throughout the game. The seventh-inning stretch belonged to a Ray Charles recording of America the Beautiful. Baseball, our great little diversion, was put in its proper place. People continued to stream into the Vet even through the early innings of the game -- the club sold nearly 8,000 walk-up tickets and had given away 5,380 tickets to people who had donated blood last month. "I Am Not a Baseball Fan,'' read one placard, "But United We Stand." Security measures were heightened. Fans could not carry in backpacks, large bags or coolers. Small bags were searched. No parking was allowed on the immediate periphery of the building. The police force on hand was tripled. But as one stadium operations executive said when asked before the game what he expected, "A well-behaved crowd, with something more in common besides a love for baseball." Two commercial airliners did fly low and directly over the Vet before the game, as people in the stands tracked their flight. A week ago few would have paid much attention. When Maddux hopped in a cab at the team's hotel to travel to the ballpark, he noticed, he said, that his driver was Islamic. The driver made an aggressive, dangerous turn at the first intersection and Maddux had a flash of anxiety, saying aloud, quietly, "We're not going to make it." Our sense of comfort jolted, we found baseball to be one vehicle to bring us together. As soon as a military honor guard marched on the field to present the colors before the game, the crowd erupted into applause, then a spontaneous chant of "USA! USA!" Both teams stood on the foul lines as a moving video montage, which underscored baseball's place in Americana dating to the Civil War, played to the song, Proud to be an American. The clip ended with a glorious shot of lower Manhattan as seen from across New York Harbor, the World Trade Center towers looming proudly and poignantly. A tear streamed down the tough, unshaven cheek of Phillies manager Larry Bowa. In the Philadelphia bullpen, Phillies starting pitcher Robert Person couldn't speak. "I was choked up," he said. "I didn't know whether to cry or smile or what. Vern [Ruhle, the pitching coach] said some things to me and I couldn't even comment. I was afraid my voice would crack." At 7:19 p.m., the rest of the baseball season began with a pitch from Person. It was hopelessly high. "Man, I tell you, I was trembling on the mound," Person said. Yes, the fans did boo Braves third baseman Chipper Jones three batters into the game, but it was an obligatory gesture, a sign of respect to the great hitter, meant without malevolence. The "USA! USA!" chants broke out periodically, especially when some of the scores of people who brought full-sized American flags would parade the stars and stripes around the stadium. "I actually felt patriotic out there," Maddux said. "It wasn't tough at all. You felt pride in performing. You really did." Said Phillies third baseman Scott Rolen, "Almost the whole game was kind of a blur. It flew by. It was the eighth inning by the time I looked up and realized there was a game to be won or lost." Rolen did happen to smash two home runs off Maddux. He drove in another with an infield grounder, giving Person a 3-2 lead. Maddux was brilliant, throwing only 20 balls out of the strike zone to the 20 batters he faced. He confirmed one common theory, that what's left of the pennant race, and probably the postseason, will be decided by elite pitchers who are rejuvenated by having a week of rest in September. "All the aches and pains went away," Maddux said. "I felt good, really good. It was like Opening Day again." The Braves, though, remain vulnerable to being caught by the Phillies or to making another quick exit from the playoffs. Their offense is far below world championship quality. The 5-2 defeat marked the 68th time in 143 games this season that the Braves scored three runs or less -- virtually half their games. Andruw Jones whiffed four times, continuing an astoundingly poor second half for someone so talented. He has hit .217 since July 3 (51-for-234) and struck out 123 times this year. In time, the nuts and bolts of the game will seem important again, though that will not be the case Friday night, either, when the Mets are scheduled to host the Braves. (The Mets are considering switching the series to Atlanta with the games between the clubs scheduled for Sept. 28-30 at Turner Field being played in New York.) As moving as the game was in Philadelphia Monday night, imagine the emotional weight of the first one in New York. Jason Marquis, a rookie from Staten Island, is scheduled to start for the Braves. One of his Little League teammates died in the collapse of the Twin Towers. His sister was nearby on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange when the buildings tumbled. "It's going to be hard before the game," he said, "but once the game starts it's time to go to work. I'm pretty good about keeping my focus." All of us have been changed by the events of Sept. 11, some very deeply. That was evident in a simple little baseball game Monday night in Philadelphia that under normal circumstances would have brought out the worst of some yahoos in the stands and sent sports journalists into their overused grab-bag of war analogies. Give commissioner Bud Selig credit for deciding to postpone games until Monday. Playing games last Friday would have been an intrusion upon our grief, mourning and confusion. Monday felt like a part of our healing. It felt right. "Right now," Rolen said in the Phillies clubhouse, with none of the usual post-victory music blaring, "I'm tired and emotionally drained. It was special. It makes you feel like this is where we belong. And it's okay." Sports Illustrated senior writer Tom Verducci covers the baseball beat for the magazine and is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com. Click here to send a question to his Baseball Mailbag.
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