I am sad. The Indians’ season is officially over, barring one remaining tradition — the annual team picnic. Every year, I’m surprised by the swell of emotion I feel, though short lived, as the Indians exit the field after their final game at Cooperstown.
At the beginning of the season, this moment seems too distant to even think about. Then suddenly, “boom,” it’s here, and I feel almost caught off-guard by something I knew all along was coming. And I wonder, “Did I squeeze every ounce of goodness out of this time?”
Did I appreciate people, behave like a respectful fan, get to know the team families well enough, pay attention at the games, praise the players and support the coaches? What opportunities did I miss? I wonder if I ever will learn to be so totally present in each moment that I will never have to ask these questions.
Since my cancer diagnosis last year, I’ve tried to live more intentionally; drinking it all in, soaking it all up — every minute, every day — as best I can. Some days I am better at this than others.
When I mess up, as I am prone to do, I find hope and grace in something Cleveland Indians pitcher, Bob Feller, who passed away in 2010, once said. “Every day is a new opportunity. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is.”