swing batta, batta! swing!

It’s a hungry time in St. Louis. For whatever reason, playoff games always make me think about time. For instance, when Adam Vinatieri kicked that last-second field goal to win Super Bowl 35. I remember staring at the TV … “Surely there’s more time? That can’t be how it ends!” But time had run out on the Rams and the moment was gone. More than the other situations in the average day of an average American, I think playoff games offer us a true appreciation for “That one moment in time.”

You might be wondering what a mom who usually writes about food is doing writing about sports. Well, first I’ll remind you that every mom is full of surprises. Second I’ll share this: Before I was a mom I spent most nights as the person between the reader and the writer of the game story in the morning paper. I was the copyeditor, whose job is to make sure the facts are right and the headline is catchy. Looking back I realize all those nights at work played a big part in our family eating most meals together … but that’s another post. So, back to playoff games.

The actual contact point of bat on ball is a fraction of a fraction of the entirety of either surface. The time that the two spend in contact with each other is infinitely small in the scope of a two-and-a-half hour game. The consequences are irreversible. There’s an absolutism about those tiny playoff moments that offers new understanding to life in a larger scope.

Like it or not, moments often are what we make them. Sometimes, though, they are made for us, as when the opposing player puts that fraction of bat onto that fraction of ball and launches it 400-plus feet in the ninth inning of Game 7. Then we are left wishing we could stop time and change a few things … put more spin on that pitch … boost that outfielder another half inch into the air … take back those hurtful words blurted in anger … stop that bullet … fasten that seatbelt … say “I love you,” or “I’m sorry,” or “Stop!”

Life turns on immeasurably small moments. But is it possible we might stretch them out a bit? Put down the phone? Turn off the computer? Close the entertainment center and block the TV from view? (Not during a playoff game, of course!) Is it possible to make the technology stop flowing and rejuvenate the flow of life’s energy?

Of course it is. I have a friend who, after needing time with her three boys says: “We had to shut the house down last night.” She stops time … stretches out those tiny moments that make a big difference. No one goes to any sports or meetings. All technology goes off for homework and then they eat dinner together. She is great about keeping it simple, too. She wants to be with her boys, not doing dishes. A package of tortillas, some grated cheese, Tyson’s teriyaki chicken. I think she throws some microwave rice or a bag of salad in for good measure. It’s a home run.

A fraction of bat on a fraction of ball for a fraction of a second can change everything. Take a swing. Oh ya … and GO CARDS!