I’ve watched or listened to almost every, awful inning of Giants’ baseball this season. The blurry streams from my ipad, the delayed radio broadcast on my phone’s mlb app, my mom’s 60 inch tv intermittently flashing to cable news, have all delivered mostly heart break and disappointment.
A few weeks ago the Giants signed a pitcher from the Texas Rangers who was let go from that organization after an arguably more disastrous start to the season than San Francisco. He had something like a 13 ERA. If you don’t follow or understand baseball, that’s a really important statistic for a pitcher, and that number is pretty much as bad as it can be. The guy had been dominant the previous year but appeared to have completely, irreparably lost his way.
Fans on twitter and sports radio universally rolled their eyes as the move seemed like another symptom of total meltdown in the Giants organization.
His first appearance in San Francisco looked to be confirmation of such.
Then, inexplicably, he started throwing well. A few pitches at a time and then quickly entire innings. He now appears to be an effective closer on a team whose won six straight games.
I’m baffled, but also mega inspired.
This weekend I’m feeling confused about how to appropriately celebrate the fourth of July on Tuesday. I’ve always been a bit queasy about the unequivocal affirmations of American freedom and liberty on “Independence Day”, but in the current political climate it feels downright absurd. It seems more appropriate to be silent, and meditative, to declare the occasion one of mournful self-examination about the nation we’ve become.
Then, as silly as it sounds, I think about Sam Dyson. About how even, and especially, when we lose our way, commitment, effort, courage and resilience can still light the path to restoration.
We are only as far gone as our last, worst act.
We are only as good as our next best one.