It’s only a game ~ October 31, 1991

David Heiller

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1991, 4:30 P.M. The importance of knowing how to lose comes home every so often, especially with children. It hit in our home on Wednesday evening, October 23, in the World Series.

My son, Noah, and I had been watching the game together for the first seven innings, just as we had watched all the other games together. Then I had to leave the living, room, as some friends came over to help move me move in a refrigerator

 A circumspect Noah.

I kept a transistor radio nearby as we struggled with the appliance. I swore as Hrbek struck out to end the eighth inning. I had to say no to Noah when he begged me to throw him the ball between innings, to bring the Twins good luck on defense. Finally, I had to hear the disappointing end on the radio, when Atlanta scored the winning run on a very close play at the plate in the bottom of the ninth.

I dashed into the living room as soon as I could, and saw the replay at the plate, saw that it was a good call. Then I saw Noah sitting very still, crying.

I said something very fatherly, like: “It was a good game. It was a good call at the plate. It’s too bad, but someone has to win and someone has to lose.” Noah trudged silently past me to bed. He didn’t believe in those words any more than I did when I was eight.

A bit later, when the fridge was in place and the house was still, I went up to Noah. He was lying quietly, half asleep. “Too bad the Twins lost, huh?” I said.

“Yeah, and it makes me sad,” he answered.

“Me too,” I said, and hugged him goodnight.

There’s no great moral to this slice of life. It didn’t change Noah’s future. He mulled it over for a short while, maybe 10 minutes, then went to sleep, and woke up groggy from another late night of baseball, and went to school, and didn’t say another word about it.

But it reminds me of at least a small moral: losing is important. It puts things in perspective.

Don’t get me wrong: It’s great fun to win. The exhilaration can be unforgettable, like with Kirby Puckett hitting that homerun in game six, last night, Saturday night. A lot of baseball fans will never forget that moment. I’ll take winning over losing any day.

But losing helps you keep an even keel. Clarence Sandberg reminded me of that on Sunday morning. Clarence is a friendly old man who lives north of Malmo. He processes wild rice for a sideline, and I stopped in to pick up some of the chaff for compost.

Clarence gave me some wheat with his chaff, in a figurative sense. I had never met him before, so I started talking about the great Twins’ game on Saturday night. Clarence admitted that it was a super game, but he quickly reminded me of how poorly the Twins had played Thursday night in Atlanta, losing 14-5.

“School boys could have played better,” I think is how he phrased it.

“That’s true,” I had to admit, feeling a bit deflated. “I wonder how they’ll do tonight.”

“It will be fun to watch,” he said. “But you know, it’s only a game.”

Clarence had never met me before. He didn’t know what a baseball nut I am. But he knew how to keep the game in perspective and keep an even keel. There was a lot of wisdom in his old eyes, and in those old words. It’s only a game.

MONDAY, OCT. 28, 1991, 12:15 p.m. Tom Kelly came up with the most memorable quote of an unforgettable night last night. He wanted to take Jack Morris out of the game in the tenth inning. Morris said he was fine. They argued back and forth, something a player and coach aren’t supposed to do. Finally Dick Such, the pitching coach, came along and backed Jack by saying, “I think he’s fine.”

Tom Kelly’s response: “Oh what the hell, it’s only a game.” Morris went out to pitch, and the. Twins went on to win.

Tom Kelly must have been reading my column again. Baseball is only a game. And win or lose, what a game it was in 1991!