The Kingdom of God is like baseball

… and a lot like the Blue Jays season

t-shirt design by artist Kit Weyman

In the movie Bull Durham, Susan Sarandon’s character professes her unorthodox faith: “I believe in the Church of Baseball.” While I might not worship in that church, I do confess there’s a transcendent vibe to the game, something bigger than what gets played out on the field.

Make no mistake, baseball is play but many people have named an ineffable experience in it (just Google baseball and spirituality). The mystic dimensions of the diamond: ninety feet between bases, the sixty-and-a-half feet between the pitching rubber and the plate, the right and left field foul lines stretching the eye and imagination beyond the yard.

There’s the timelessness in baseball. The game isn’t measured by time; two seasons ago the pitch clock was introduced (for which I’m grateful) but there’s no time limit to each game. Every time the plate umpire yells “play,” you enter a space beyond time in the ballpark. Who knows how long each game will go, as witnessed in Game 3 of this World Series — an 18 inning, six hour and 39 minute marathon of bonus baseball. The game is over when it’s over.

Baseball is different from other sports in that there’s no field of conquest over which the two teams battle. Baseball isn’t a conflict sport (other than a batter getting hit by a pitch) with either side lining up in direct confrontation. The closest is a pitcher-batter duel but they’re separated by 60 feet and six inches. There’s no territory to conquer in the game where it’s all about advancing the runner — bringing someone home.

There’s almost a liturgical quality to baseball: the pre-game ceremonies, the first pitch, the many rituals and repeated behaviours of players, the seventh inning stretch and singing of the baseball hymn. I get why someone might believe in the Church of Baseball.

Of course there’s the athletic marvel in baseball that can seem other-worldly: the head-first dive of Vladimir Guerrero Jr. into home plate, the behind-the-back catch by Daulton Varsho, the sweet stroke of Addison Barger’s grand slam home run, the wizardry of a Trey Yesavage split-ball.

I know I’m only mentioning Toronto Blue Jays here. We could talk about Ohtani, Judge, Raleigh, Freeman, Yamamoto but the Jays are my team. Going into this season, most predictions were the Toronto Blue Jays would finish last in their division … again. And why not? That’s where they ended last season as well. But now they are one win away from becoming World Series champions, a potential worst-to-first season.

Being a long time Blue Jay fan, this has been a very special season to watch. There’s something bigger about this team and this season’s story. Call it magic, call it transcendence, but it’s a season for the ages.

No one gave the Jays a chance all year. It was a rag-tag crew of some stars — Vladimir Guerrero Jr. and Bo Bichette, both who looked like they might leave after the season — along with a crew of B-list players: some who once shone bright (George Springer, Max Scherzer) but had a best-before date on them, a pudgy catcher, Alejandro Kirk, who looks like the most unathletic guy on the field, their closer Jeff Hoffman who failed two physicals before he signed with the Jays, and the rest of the boys who spent much of their careers grinding it out in the minor-leagues.

Part of the glory of this team is the absence of prima donnas. One of the heroes of game 1, Addison Barger, who hit the first pinch-hit home run in World Series history, sleeps on the pull-out couch in the hotel room of another player Davis Schneider. Why? Because his family is in town and they needed the room. One of my favourite unsung heroes is Ernie Clement. Manager John Schneider says he’s like a puppy; he has a smile on his face all the time, this childlike love of playing the game. Ernie has been a clutch hitter throughout the playoffs, getting the ball in play in almost every game. And that game glove he’s using - he bought it on eBay but it’s looking like a gold glove.

And then there’s the story everyone is talking about, pitcher Trey Yesavage. The 22 year old started the season pitching in A-league ball. In a few months he moved all the way to triple A and then called up to the bigs in September — that just doesn’t happen. With only three major league starts under his belt, he has struck out baseball’s best sluggers in the playoffs: Aaron Judge, Cal Raleigh and Shohei Ohtani. He shrugs and keeps saying how blessed he is to be here.

Born ready for this. That’s the kind of team the Jays are this season. Watching them they could very well be a good sandlot team, players of every shape and size, playing for the sheer joy of the game and loving every minute of it. And these guys seem to genuinely love each other, they are for each other, willing to do whatever it takes for the team.

It makes them a team you can’t help but root for, and many are doing it. The Jays bandwagon has become nationwide; it’s Canada’s team. But it’s bigger yet, gathering fans beyond Canada (check out this video of UK schoolchildren cheering on the Jays). Even Yankee fans are cheering for the Jays. Is there not something of God at work in that?

In this moment where all that divides is pushed in our faces, where polarization tears at the seams, it’s a healing balm to find something greater to bring us together. This is the glory of God at play, silencing our sectarian grievances, elevating us above our political divides, uniting people across differences. We’re born for this.

We’re desperate for a hope like that. After the series is done people will likely retreat back to opposing bunkers and ideological positions. But for a moment we get a window into what God’s Kingdom is like, a taste of what life can be like. And maybe that’s enough to give pause to our antagonisms, to chasten our enemy-making habits.

Here is baseball’s sweet gift — it’s about touching home. In the end, baseball is about coming home again, and often helping someone else make it home. Those home plate celebrations — high fives, hugs, and dances — picture God’s heart for us and bear witness to the place for each of us in God’s story.

Bring it home Blue Jays.