From time to time, a seemingly insignificant event is caught on camera, and it galvanizes the nation. Such an event took place this past week at a Phillies/Marlin game.
A homerun was hit into the upper deck of the left field seats, which, as usual, prompted a massive scurrying of fans to collect the much-coveted souvenir. A father came away with the ball and handed it to his son.
This situation plays itself out hundreds of times throughout the course of every baseball season. A ball is hit into the stands, fans scurry for it, the victor claims his prize, and on some occasions, there is a confrontation over who the rightful owner of the ball is. Again, this happens all the time.
What happened this time, however, is that the lady confronting the man over the ball was so adamant, the man wound up taking the ball from his son and giving it to her.
Recently, I took two of my kids to a Round Rock Express game. We got free admission to the left-field upper deck with the donation of canned goods. During the game, a homerun was hit into our section. My son pursued the ball, only to break off the pursuit when he saw the father of a young child going after it.
Again, these situations happen all the time.
So, why is the entire country mad at this one woman? Here’s why, and it’s an answer that the country is not ready to discuss at this moment.
A father taking his son out to a baseball game is one of the last remaining safe-havens of childhood. Few things remain as a part of childhood that are as pure, innocent, peaceful and fun as that.
Think about it. We still sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seventh-inning stretch. That song is obviously written from a child’s viewpoint.
“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks. I don’t care if we never get back.”
If you go to a minor-league game, you will see that the entire event (except for the beer sales) is centered around creating a wholesome event for the family… for parents and children.
Everything from the team name (What is a Sodpoodle anyway?), to the games they play between innings (Tricycle races, etc) which are usually played by kids picked at random from the stands.
Baseball is still America’s pastime. It is still where people go to leave their problems at the gate and enjoy some peaceful, fun time with the kids, and to make memories.
And… on occasion, the families are able to take home a souvenir, whether it is a t-shirt shot into the crowd, or a baseball hit into the stands. The baseball is the ultimate prize. You take home a piece of the game, handled by the actual players, and catching it (or retrieving it) is the ultimate accomplishment.
To have your dad catch a homerun ball at a major league game? That’s the kind of formative memory that sticks with you. That’s a story you tell your grandkids when they come visit you in the nursing home 70 years later.
This is why, when Shannon Stone died trying to catch a ball for his son at a Texas Rangers game, it became a national tragedy. As a local reporter, I covered the funeral, stationed next to ABC News, Univision, ESPN, CNN and others.
If any other fan had died in the same way, it would have been written off as a tragic accident, and no big deal would have been made. But in this case, it was a father, looking for a souvenir for his son, who called out to Josh Hamilton for the ball. Reached out for the catch, lost his balance, and fell.
In a press conference following the tragedy, Rangers owner Nolan Ryan said, “This hits us at the core of who we are.”
As a way of helping fans grieve, recover and move on, the Rangers erected a statue of Stone and his son outside the gates of the stadium, to remind us who we are, and why we bring our kids to the game.
Which brings us back to Phillies Karen. The father catching (or retrieving) the ball for his son is an emblematic moment, in this case shattered by the selfishness of an irate individual.
The audacity not only offended fans at the game, but the TV commentators, the Phillies organization, and social media. Why?
Because without even realizing it, this moment encapsulates the ongoing war our culture has with the innocence of childhood.
Let’s be honest. Our culture is at war with childhood. The sad part is, that war was never officially declared. It just sort of happened. And those warring against childhood often don’t even realize that they are.
Like the situation with the baseball at the Phillies game was driven by the selfishness of adults, the war on childhood is driven by the selfishness of adults.
Kids can no longer just enjoy playing summer baseball. Now, every level of youth sports is seen as a preparation for the major leagues. Sure, the leagues now hand out participation trophies, but I believe that is even driven by the selfishness of adults.
Does a 5-year old joining his first T-ball team really hope the league prepares him for the next level? No. He just wants to play and have fun. It’s the parents who are looking for validation from the child’s on-field performance. And the problem is not limited to youth sports either.
Recently, Snoop Dogg drew criticism for saying he was afraid to take his grandkids to the movies for fear of having to explain same-sex relationships (and other adult themes) when they are depicted in children’s movies. Now, Snoop is shrugging off the controversy and stands by his statements, but that controversy raises another question…
When was the last time Hollywood truly produced a movie for kids?
When was the last time they produced something as benign as “Bambi,” as adventurous as “The Jungle Book,” as fantastical as “Mary Poppins,” or as sentimental as “The Land Before Time?”
When was the last time a movie was produced for kids for the sole purpose of taking them on a big adventure?
Today, even the children’s movies have an agenda to advance the cause of certain adult groups.
So, we’ve ruined youth sports. We’ve ruined movies. The kids cannot open a lemonade stand without getting a tax-use permit and a permit from the health department (because cities now lack the capability to distinguish between legit businesses and kids trying to pass the time and make a quarter.)
I could go on citing different examples from different areas of life, but that would be exhausting for both you and me. The war on childhood and the innocence thereof is a complex issue that requires much discussion.
And it’s hard to encapsulate that issue and how it truly makes us feel. That is, until a random stranger at a ballgame we aren’t watching takes a ball from a child whose father just gave it to him. Then it all comes to a head.
To a large degree, I believe some correction is needed on our part. We need to allow youth sports to return to the simplicity of a season played, with scores kept, wins and losses, and a champion crowned. But when the season is over, let the kids do something else for a while.
We need to let kids be in the moment, and enjoy the simplicity and the joy of the moment. Not every activity needs to be a preparation for a competitive career.
And finally, we need to quit making the minds of our children the latest battleground in the culture war.
We need to restore childhood to what it ought to be, an innocent period of discovery and imagination. A time of learning and of play.
If we accomplish that, angry adults may still take homerun balls away from kids during the game. But, if they do, it’ll be far less triggering.
Leland Acker 