Baseball and Yizkor

I want to talk about baseball and Yizkor because baseball is a great metaphor for Yizkor, in its simplicity and in the memories of our past and our present that it can evoke.

Like religion, among family, baseball can be a unifying force for good. It’s something that can be shared with the whole family and whose memories can be passed down from generation to generation.

Did you ever see Babe Ruth play? Or maybe it was Joe DiMaggio or Willie Mays. Can you tell those stories to your children and grandchildren? Can you take your grandchild to a game and watch today’s stars while telling him or her about yesterday’s? The ones you idolized as a kid.

And can you develop a bond, a closeness, that your grandchild will remember and then tell his or her children? Can you envision a time where your child or grandchild, after you’re gone, can turn to his child or grandchild and say, your great-grandfather took me to see Derek Jeter. Let me tell you about him.

These are memories. This is how we make memories. Simple yet effective. That is Yizkor.

Forty years ago the New York Mets won the World Series. Do you remember that? Certainly if you were from New York and rooted for the Mets you do. It seems like ages ago and yet it seems like it was only yesterday.

This summer, forty years after they won the World Series, most of the surviving members of the team got together for a reunion. Yes, they celebrated their remarkable achievement. But in the process they also reflected on their losses as well.

In getting together with old teammates and friends, Tom Seaver, the Hall of Fame pitcher, said "It is no doubt the highlight of my baseball life. Winning the World Series changes your life. There's a closeness that comes from it, you're kind of like brothers to your teammates. You have a much different relationship with them when you have that in common."

And then Seaver went on, in words that are eerily reminiscent of what we do at Yizkor, "There will be a lot of laughs. Some tears, too," as he listed the names of players and coaches who have passed away since 1969, like Tommie Agee, Don Cardwell, Donn Clendenon, pitching coach Rube Walker, Tug McGraw, and of course the manager of that team, Gil Hodges.

"Most importantly, at the back of everybody's mind will be Gil," Seaver added. "He won't be there, but he will be there, you know?"

Isn't that what Yizkor is about? Highlights of your life, closeness to family and friends, shared memories? And by getting together for a reunion, whether it's a baseball team or a family, we share these memories, we reminisce, we remember these events.

We laugh. And yes, we cry.

And there's more to the Mets story. You see, this year the Mets moved to a new ballpark, called Citifield. For a number of these former players, it was the first time they were at this new ballpark. And they noticed something, as did many of the fans.

The new park payed homage to a lot of memories. But memories of the old Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants. Where were the memories of the old Mets, they asked? They were not to be found.

And so the old players and the new fans complained to Mets management. And management listened and included more memories of the old Mets in the new ballpark.

Why? Because to us, that too, is important. It's a Yizkor.

We need a Yizkor when we come to the ballpark. We want our experience to not only be about the current team, about the present. We want it, we need it, to also be about our past. We need it so that we can share it with others who we bring to that game. Where we can sit and talk, and bond and reminisce, and share memories.

Here's such a memory.

Steve Monforto has been coming to Philadelphia Phillies games since he was three years old. On September 15 he was at a game with his wife and two daughters. And at that game he finally caught his first foul ball.

After trading fist bumps with nearby fans, Monforto high-fived his 3-year-old daughter Emily, and handed the ball to her. It was the natural thing for any father to do, right? Then Emily threw the ball back.

After a lifetime of coming to baseball games, Monforto finally catches a foul ball. And his daughter throws it away.

So what did Monforto do? In an image now captured on the internet, his immediate reaction was to hug his little girl. (http://florida.marlins.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20090916&content_id=7000336&vkey=news_mlb&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlb)

That was the real story of the game right there, a father hugging his little girl to assure her that she did nothing wrong, a public rite of passage to which so many parents can relate.

"I think she was a little startled by the reaction," he explained. "I just wanted her to know it was OK."

That's baseball. And that's Yizkor.

Even baseball can serve to remind us that Yizkor, that life, is a shared experience which does not have to be limited to a particular place and a particular time.